Anarchy

I cannot drive, Even my brother can't
He learnt twice, I never did.
Now come on, admit it.
Women can't drive.

From Sanskrit
To Hindi
We've travelled miles
From neutrality
To the living attributes of inanimate

Aeroplanes, the remarkable agents of commutation
Computers, the geniuses
And homes were men.
Trains, books and huts remained female.

Oh how men painted women
As powerful and the future of
The free country they dreamt of
Oh how women painted themselves
As caged in walls of the past

The intellect speaks in silence
About democracy and its ways
But the floating heads give it away
The rule of none, is what they want
Men and women, all alike.

Ah, they're mushrooming.
Symptoms of anarchy.
Treatment, none.

Animated

This was my first attempt at making a .gif file. The frames are inconsistent but I still love it. :)


Credits-Rajat(for discovering the talent in these images)

Thenks, Benks

When I went to Paharganj on a hot Sunday morning, I discovered a lot of the walls, shutters and random objects of scribble value autographed by the name of 'Benks'.
Who is Benks? I wondered. "Some guy who has nothing to do and hence wrote his name everywhere" said my cousin who was accompanying me.
After a considerable amount of research and googling, I found out that Benks who is famously known as Banksy or Benksy is a British graffiti Artist known for the irony and political bend in his work. He is apparently the highest paid graffiti artist in the world and his identity remains hidden even after several attempts of unmasking him. His real name is probably Robert or Robin Benks.

What brings him to India? I speculated. But then I concluded that probably a fan of his made an attempt to familiarise us Indians with him in support of graffiti art.
You can see his work on his website here-http://www.banksy.co.uk/in​dex.html


**Graffiti art is often seen as an unlawful activity defacing public property. However, another trail of thoughts reflects upon it as a marvellous method of opining silently.**

Try photocopying a coloured dream in your mind. You'll get blots of black ink.

Mausam Adyatan (Weather Update)-A one minute Radio script

When I say I love my course, I say it for a reason.
The first assignment given to us in the second year was to write a one minute radio script for any channel, on any topic, with no limitations of space and time(The geo-astro space and time, of course. It costs a lot otheriwse :P). It was an assignment for the paper in Broadcast Journalism.
It has taught us that one of the features of Radio is that the programming is done in a manner which is apt for its audience. It is regionalised and concentrated in that regard. Deriving from that, I was sure it had to be entertaining and funny. I chose to write a programme that delivers weather updates in a witty, conversational way since I thought that it was one of the few things which could have been justified in a minute's time. Hindi, as difficult as it could get, was obviously chosen to beat the wireless transmission of monotony.
Credits-
1.Purnima Malhotra for listening to my blah blah, since it is impossible for me to work without constantly chattering on gtalk.
2.Google Translator ;)

Here goes the script-

सुप्रभात!
आज के मौसम अद्यतन में आपका स्वागत है.
प्रसिद्ध संगीत निर्देशक अनु मलिक के प्रसिद्ध गीत "देखो बारिश हो रही है" के इंटरनेट डाउनलोड लगभग पचास प्रतिशत बढ़ गए हैं. भारत के आसूचना ब्यूरो की माने तो इसका कारन है दिल्ली में हुई भारी बरसात. जहाँ गाज़ियाबाद पर इंद्र देवता ने अपनी कृपा नहीं बरसाई, वहीँ नॉएडा में हिमपात के खंड भी पाए गए. कुल मिलाकर इस दिन को ताज़गी प्राप्त हुई. मुख्यमंत्री शीला दिक्षित ने इंडिया गेट पर "शीला की जवानी" पर अद्भुत नृत्य करते हुए अपनी ख़ुशी ज़ाहिर करी.
आज के लिए केवल इतना ही. यदि जिंदा रहे तो कल की संभव बरसात में फिर मिलेंगे.

The Eternal Timelag

She closed her eyes to take that jump into the pool of meditation. It was her addiction that not only comforted her, but also took her to the valley of strangers where she had no expectations. That was always pleasant. But on the other hand, her thoughts caged her with the fear of loss. Certainty could come and jolt her anytime. The wing of ideation always took her to the flight of dreams. If you build a castle out of sand, would you rather let the waves destroy it or do that on your own? She did ponder upon. Yet the waves became a friend that she entrusted, not herself.

She did want to capture those waves in her words, but their lucidity always escaped her ink.

If only one picture could define you for a day, which one would it be?