Skip to main content

Cling on

       As the droplets of heavy rain descended from the window of the bus, I missed my camera more than ever. The yellow bright streetlight from the many minuscule lenses of small droplets of rainwater, which try hard to stick to a dirty glass, but are forced by the blows from above (the flow of rain) and the pull from below (of gravity) to not let stay; would've made a beautiful shot.
       But it seems this scene is the one that can never be shot perfectly or never be shot at all. However hard you try to focus, however firm you try and hold your hands, however close, however far you keep your lens, this shot is next to impossible.
       Haven't we all been on that glass once in our life, or twice or even more. However hard we tried to stick to the thing we loved the most, to the interest which was most beloved to our hearts, we had to in the end, let it go. Be it the butt of the last cigarette or be it the history lesson of medieval period; be it the home in old chowk of Lucknow, or be it hitting sixes on daddy's spins in that house; or be it riding bicycle to school and making a regular stoppage at batashe-wale-surinder-bhaiyya; we had to let everything descend from the dirty glass at the end of the day.
       And we did try to click those moments and label them with asterisks and hashes so that we could spot them easily, but those memories have faded. Perhaps, like this shot, those shots we taken by amateur hands. 

Comments

  1. Unknown1 April 2014 at 02:49

    the rain has become even more beautiful....!!! :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. anu2 April 2014 at 06:03

    Larger things give way to the most loved and revered things in life....

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ode on an evanescent flower

In shades of pink and shades of white, As an armor of a plucky knight; At a certain point of day in time, Thou beauty of the summer, thou shine. Three days for the life you wait, Three days to come off your adolescent age; Three days until that green bud sprouts, Three days until your Beauty you flout. Awaiting a time long you once shine, At a morning that all, but you, whine; No sorrow no sign of meloncholy you show, Even though this life you live is miniscule of a blow. Thine head held high with pride, Thine salute to the sun, big smile; Thine beauty above all at prime, Thou Beauty of summer, thou shine. This is the pride that envies me above all, The pride in spite of a life so small; A day thou have, a day that's all, Then too you live life so gay, so tall. With the cheer thou spread across horizons wide, With colours which as the sun, or even bright; The lesson you teach across generations wide, A life lived large is a
18 comments
Read more

The Midway

This is my entry to  https://housing.com/lookup I've always wondered what could be that one thing that one could do towards well being of others without letting go off one's own interests. That may sound a bit anti-noble but that is what is true. There is a certain mentality which does not let a person go an extra mile against one's own direction. That is a kind of optimism ice always been searching, ironically on my own track. But that search of the midway ended in the summer of 2009 while I was in high school. That day was just like any other day. I dressed up for school on my regular morning routine and left the house for the taxistand. I luckily found a taxi even before reaching the stand. When the taxi reached the stand, the driver got down to gather more passengers. A usual action done in the morning hours by the kind. I sat near the window, looking out and breathing the morning freshness. At that time, I saw something. Something that sent a chill down my spine a
13 comments
Read more

NO woman, NO cry.

       I being a Marley fan always thought this to be a song made by a cool singer for a cool topic. Well, it's not cool to be offensive though to a certain womankind. But then today I read about what it really means. It says, "no woman? don't cry." in a certain Jamaican vocab of which Bob Marley was a container of, and this was written for his wife Rita Marley who underwent great austerities with him until he was not successful.       As the world celebrates the respect and love towards a a certain sect of Homo Sapiens usually characterized by long hair and a warm heart, I recall my life, pressing on the rewind button and counting those kind on my fingers. well, I certainly have very few a fingers to count that.       I remember her doing my hair, washing me, cooking for me, being my support, wiping my tears. She even fought a teacher for me. She who made a hell lot of sacrifices for me. She who even before my birth fought with her husband to send me to the best
11 comments
Read more