Delhi Photo Diary In Race for the 2008 Indibloggies Award

PLEASE

Vote for Delhi Photo Diary in the 15th category by clicking this link http://multivote.sparklit.com/web_poll.spark/21900

My mother calls me every afternoon at around 2:30 pm. It is a daily ritual, which even my colleagues have come to let go unnoticed. The conversation is standard.

Mom: Hello!
Me Hi!
Mom: Hows the day been so far?
Me: Ok!
Mom: Had your lunch?
Me: Yup It was very tasty.
Mom: Anything else?
Me: Nope. See you in the evening.

Today, however, she called and without the customary hello, went on to say, you have been nominated for an award. I always dreamed of winning the Noble Peace Prize but with US President Barack Obama winning this year's honours I had given up hope. My mom's excited tone brought me back to reality and I made a serious attempt to comprehend what she was saying.
Mom: I am sending you the link. Delhi Photo Diary has been nominated to win the Best Indi Photo blog at the 2008 Indibloggies. Go and see.


Me: Ok! Are you sure?
Mom: GO!
Me: YIPEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Colleagues: WHAT???!!!

To cut the long story short: Delhi Photo Diary has been nominated and the final phase is public poll. This means that all of you, who have over the past year and a half visited the blog, returned and passed it on to others, have the option of voting for it.

Delhi Photo Diary is my attempt to capture my city through my mobile phone camera. :-)

Face To Face

Deepak, a friend and colleague, and a gifted photographer decided to click a few of my snaps and ask a few questions for his blog.

Deepak,

Thank you so much for choosing me as a subject of your interview post. I enjoyed every bit of the photoshoot and the interview. Thanks for making me feel like a Diva. God Bless you. :-)

Click the link of Exposemaximum for the interview:

Exposemaximum

Why SRK is my God!

Words fall short when someone asks me why I revere Shahrukh Khan. I have on many occasions tried to explain but in vain. Most of the times the words have failed to translate the emotions to ‘T’. On other occasions I was sure that the person I was rambling in front of just would not be able to comprehend from where I was coming from. So, in true filmy fashion I will try to pen down my reverence for the man, who I have on many occasions gone as far as comparing to the God almighty.

SRK is God by the definition that God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. This said, I believe that everyone has the right to choose their Gods. In form of human, stone, energy, Is, One. Circumstances in my life were such that only SRK came close to fitting the description of God, as I understood the Supreme.

To begin with, a self-confessed ‘maa ki pooch’, I liked SRK just because my mom liked him. Then some 11 years ago, in November of 1998, my father was admitted to the hospital for 19 days and he succumbed to Hepatitis B and passed away on December 7. Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, was released on October 16, 1998. Piracy was rampant and the cable wala had dutifully showed the film within two days of the release. I had seen the film on TV several times before seeing it in theatre.



The atmosphere in the house was something I don’t want to even remember. With death looming in the corner and the air thick with depression, it was dark and tense. Smiling was not an option that was even considered. There were days when as a 15 and a half year old I would cry my eyes red. Then there were days when tears would not come but grey tear marks on my cheeks could be spotted by friends and family from miles away.

The only time, I smiled was when SRK would tell Kajol, “ladkiyon jaise mat chilaoo” or “Excusez-moi”. I would feel “everything would be alright” when Rahul, played by SRK, would assure his eight-year-old daughter that "everything will be alright". I saw the sadness I was feeling in SRK’s eyes and by the end of the three hours he would give the scared teenager sobbing soundlessly late into the night, assurance of hope that something better would come.

I am no more a teenager but that positivity, which he still exudes through the screen, has the power to make me smile in the darkest hour. And thus as far as I am concerned SRK is God

As God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Art Of Conversation: Women vs Men

Most of the women I am meeting these days are verbosity personified. A colleague, who never leaves a single opportunity to remind me that I am elder to her, will use at least four sentences just to say that she will remain quiet for the next five minutes. She recently said that she not only talks a lot herself, but can also boost talking capacity of others manifolds. “I am a communicable disease,” she had proudly declared. Others, mostly school time friends, are eager to share the details of their love life, or rather the lack of it.
Now, this might not seem like something that should occupy blog-space, but for someone like me, who has been TALKITIVE since before comprehending the nuances of words and languages, the situation takes precedence over the Iran issue. Unfortunately, I cannot hate these women who talk incessantly . Not just because I am a really nice person and just can’t bring myself to hating anyone. It has more to do with the fun I have with the gal pals. They are funny and have the best of stories to last me a lifetime, if I ever fall short of material for the blog.
A recent conversation with a male colleague, however, made me profusely thank the powers above for making the women in my life as they are. The said colleague, who calls me a female Hitler, and my world, feminist Hitler’s Third Reich, had a one-word answer or response for N number of questions or statements. “Nice,” that is all he said. Amazed at the expanse of his vocabulary I could not but think that if not for women, languages would die.

Nods, burps and farts , is all that men need to have a meaningful conversation.

Prove me wrong! :-)



*Dedicated to Aditi and Biswarup.

अश्क

जब तुम थे अपनी हथेली से पोछने के लिए
यूँ बहते थे ये, की इन्हें थमना याद ना रहा,
जो गए तुम, थमी ज़िन्दगी इस तरह
की इन अश्कों को आना भी याद ना रहा!


Sketch courtesy Google Image Search. I cannot draw a straight line, if my life depended on it. :-)

Nostalgia

Old photos
Songs we sang in school.
Films from our times
Books we turned yellow.
With a tear for company
And smile as a mate
I have hit nostalgia lane.

This is all the heart wants

A second helping of the dessert,
After a seven course meal
Five minutes more of sleep
After an eight-hour lay-in
Two licks of his ice cream
After devouring my own cassata

One more rainy day
After a monsoon spell

This is all the heart wants.