Whispering Shadow

...where recipes were sacrosanct - an onion could not replace a cucumber in a sandwich ...where dessert was served as starters and soup after the main course ...where a veg cheese sandwich was served in place of a veg cheese toast sandwich because that is what the order said and the customer may have forgotten what he ordered ...where drinking water took just 2 hours to reach the room after having called room service ...where the bathroom was so advanced that even the drainage water was filtered by hair accumulated in the mesh and sachets of shampoo and soap were kept torn open for the guest's convenience ...where the full tariff was charged for an AC room with no electricity for half the day ...where for a bill of Rs.107 and a payment of Rs.120, the change given is Rs.3 ...where the evenings entertainment was a great show by mosquitoes ...where there was no running warm water in any tap ...which happened to be the most expensive and renowned hotel in the town ...from where I check...

The sun had nearly reached the horizon. The weather had turned a notch cooler than it had been at mid-day due to the drizzle that prevailed over the past few hours. A brook was meandering through a lush grassland. It could not be seen but the sound of flowing water could be heard at a distance. In addition to the invisible stream of water was a dying stream of colours, flowing from the skies to the earth as a rainbow. In contrast to the multiple shades of the rainbow, the grass was of a monotonous but fresh green tinge. Parts of each standing blade were magnified at points where the drops of rain had settled, glowing under the light of the sun. Some of the blades were trampled along paths used by walkers, but today, they lay deserted except for his presence. One of the paths falling directly in line with the sun was lit by its now soothing light. Her silhouette emerged at a distance, rising along the slope of that path. She was running to him, just like the many sparrows rushing to the...

The sound of the cuckoo reaches my ears. My skin feels the temperature drop a notch. The sun doesn't seem to be gazing at me any more. Dark clouds fill the skyline. The breeze carries the message - it is time! It cannot be seen, but it has arrived. The scent of the earth cannot be mistaken. A flash is seen in the sky, like that coming from God's own camera. Clouds begin to thunder. In a matter of minutes, all doubts are put to rest as the thin drizzle matures into a visible heavy shower. Some animals take shelter, birds ground their flight. Greens appear greener. Children start screaming, possibly with fear or joy. When I see them run out of their homes and dance right under the rain, I know it is the latter. Instinctively, I pull out my camera and capture the moment. The photographs are about average. Something in me makes me not want to care about technical perfection. After the light dims to unacceptable levels for pictures, I head to the terrace. The shower is now heavier....

I have had inspiration in plenty. Inspiration has translated to ideas. Ideas have formed a story in the head, some beautiful ones. And yet, every time I start writing, I leave the posts (five already) unfinished. I have hit a writer's block. Is there a known cure?

You are big but your might is relative. You are important today and will be replaced tomorrow. You are stable as much as you are fallible. You have your head held high yet you are trapped. You have different perspectives with every varying degree but you always come a full circle. You make a good picture, but it not as much because of you but the elements that you are viewed among. Your beauty lies not in what you reveal but what you hide. You have your highs and you have your lows. You are powerful but your power is only derived. You can bring joy or you can gift fear. Your purpose is defined by your maker; the only problem is you may not find out till your time has passed.

I do not believe in the cliché a picture is worth a thousand words. Nonetheless, I strongly feel a good picture is worth a million. And you have to be ruthless with yourself to ensure what you have is high quality material. I do not think I am a photography pro. I am just an ordinary shutterbug striving to improve my skills. I often delete a photo which is not up to the mark. Many feel I am being fussy about a casual affair. How right they are! How else am I supposed to push myself for that one shot that makes you want to go back from a place with a smile? A photograph must evoke the same emotional response in you, as did the subject when you captured the moment. That is when you know you have met your own standards. I am not a big fan of the phrase 'Say Cheese' when it comes to clicking people. Why would a photographer want to corrupt a frame with their influence? A photograph must be an untouched interpretation of the state of the subject. The lesser the subjects know they ...

I am not an atheist or an agnostic For I know God exists I am not a man of religion But I believe in the power of prayer I do not participate in holy rituals The only prayer is through honesty in action I do not follow men of God Because there is one in each of us I am not a Hindu, Muslim or Christian However I respect another′s beliefs I am not regular with visits to the temple My place of worship is in my heart I am not aware of what holy books say But they can′t preach hatred or violence I do not ask God for favours I always thank him when things go right P.S.: I do not doubt your beliefs I just want to reaffirm my own I was not brought up this way Just uncovered my beliefs along the way