Mumbai sleeps tonight!

I woke up late last night to see what was outside my window. A darkness that had engulfed the slum next to my apartment. And the irony of Mumbai being called where night never falls, fell upon me.

Life moves before the living do,
Among the skyscrapers
Behind the high walls,
Safe and dry.
Moving with speed
All day and all night.
Bombay never sleeps.

Getting drenched in the rain,
Smiling in the train.
On the pavement.
Under the sheet covered roofs.
Only rushing past,
To come back and lay at last.
Mumbai sleeps tonight.

An invitation from the sea

Lying on the sand,
Listening to the roars.
Moving streaks of paint
Visible from the shore.

The wind whispers.
Holding my hands,
And lifting me up.
Mesmerized; I walk towards.

Blinded, I lose my feet,
Ankles, Knees and then the heart.
I am carried further
till there's nothing to see.

Pulled vigorously now,
I decide to let go.
Slowly consumed
In the loving embrace.

I close my eyes,
And see her smile.
"You're tired...
...Sleep a while"

A scream and a jerk.
I see arms, not mine.
Something is said,
Nothing heard.

Carried ashore,
I open my eyes.
It's not the time yet,
As inviting as it maybe.

But someday, she will be mine
And I shall let her take me
Day, when i will accept
The invitation from the sea!!!

Nothing makes sense

Ever felt like you want to break something,

with your bare hands?

Tear into raw flesh?

Makes a good sound. Doesn't it?

Or just get lost in a world where

no one knows you.

Run away and never stop,

Wear the sneakers she gave and run...

Run like there's no tomorrow

Till all you see is red,

Red and Yellow and Green

and stars and moon and the sun

Lines and circles and pedals

that make you laugh and shout.

3:30 am, will the streets be safe?

For you to run.

Green grass might be the answer

But thats not.

You need something stronger.

Sleep maybe?

Sleep doesn't come easy.

What do you do?

Shut up!!!

Shut up now!!!

I think I could paint.

Yes I could paint now.

Will definitely paint now

Paint is the word

Create, paint, paint.

Paint till you faint - Rhymes, eh!!

Hahahahaha!!!

Clot or clutter

No direction, no goal

In a black hole

STOP signs all around

Speeding tickets abound

All colors are prettier

But then, green appears

Eyes blind, hands tied

Clogs to stop the ride

Is it a clot or clutter

Death or just a passing matter

A Witness to change

Impatience, Heat, Anger
Restlessness
The need to do
To live
Stories abound
of accomplishments
knowing not...
"The more the world changes
the more it remains the same"

Fighting to change
To make it better or worse
Our eyes are shut
We stand, arms crossed
Staring into nothingness
trying hard to find
Answers
knowing not...
"the more the world changes
the more it remains the same"

Smiling over the hurt
Laughing over tears
Crying with joy
For a lonely togetherness
To love
or to hate
we try to differentiate
knowing not...
"the more the world changes
the more it remains the same"


And then,
I See a face on the street
The wisdom of years
was etched on the face
the lines spoke,
of what the eyes had seen.
And yet they were calm,
knowing...
"the more the world changes
the more it remains the same"

(Inspired by the french saying: "plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose",
meaning the more things change, the more they remain the same)

Set free!!

How do you wander
and set sail,
to a land where
there is no need to succeed
or mourn the fail?


How do you kill,
the man inside
and be something more,
a river that flows,
lives, gives and roars?


How do you set free,
the heart,
thats owned by
the mind trained
not to hear, feel or see?


How do you set FREE???
How do you BE free?

Art ??

What is art? And who can be called an artist? What is the job of an artist? A few questions that have racked my brains quite a number of times. Who will have the final say in the given questions? A piece of art may appeal to someone and may totally repel another. 


So, should we and more importantly can we leave the question to the witnesses of art, especially when the witnesses are such varied and have such amazingly contadictory perception for anything art. Who was a better artist, vinci, michelangelo or rembrandt. They all existed in the same era, but still had such different styles. And yet there were people who appreciated them. Moving to a more recent era, Picasso, Van gogh or Goya. Also, with such fast changing definition of art, with the contemporary art (the post modern era) coming in picture, no one can really know or give an exact definition of art. And still we think of all these people to be great artists.


So, if we cannot leave the decision to the witnesses of art. I believe there's just one person who remains, and he is the artist himself. A couple of days back, a phrase got stuck in my mind... 

 "Egotism is the rightful right of every artist". 

 And I think its as true as you and me. An artist should have full freedom to decide on what he wants to create. What he wants to show through what he sees. I as an artist, see something, I perceive it, visualise a story, a tale to say through it, and then I show this story to the people. This should be my and only my right to decide on what I want to show. I feel a piece of art is an expression that has been recreated by the artist.


But why am i suddenly talking about art?Well, its not so much related to the artists I talked about above. It is because I wanted to answer to a question that I have faced myself and have seen a lot of people face. How much editing is accepted in photography? I feel whether a photograph should be photoshopped, edited, cut or pasted is all a photographer's decision. A photographer is an artist and its his decision what he wants to show the people. And when and to what extent he wants to use this right is also his decision. Its about time that the differential treatment meted out to photographers and artists (people who paint, write, act, direct or are associated with any creative field) be erased. I see something and then I visualise something, and its this visualisation that I want to show to people, otherwise I am sure people must have crossed a similar event/place/artefact quite a number of times.


The same photograph may be able to show different moods of mine or the event, by different composition styles, different color patterns or for that matter by keeping different things in focus or out of focus. Each photograph talks as much about the photographer if not more than the story behind it. A photograph is my signature on that event, and I want to keep that unique.


"Egotism is a rightful right of all photographers".