Same place... 3 days... 3 views ! Ode to the 'unknown' artist...

Take a look at these 3 photos... its the same frame in view (notice the TV Tower in the foreground, I took these pics from my home on top-o-the hill).

Its like there's some unknown Artist with an everchanging paintbrush out there... letting creativity flow as diverse as can be... every day is a new day, a different day. These views still keep changing everyday, and it keeps telling you that nature is far bigger than any imagination !

Being part of this 'Nature' I admire the views this unknown artist presents to us. But you need to stop your busy lives for a while. If you want to be part of it, make a visit at around 6pm to the corridor behind the ACIS pantry (non-smokers beware !) and take a view to the west... catch a glimpse of the red spot setting into the Arabian Sea and feast your eyes to the colors in the sky.

"The advantage of being an amatuer photographer is the freedom of not being professional"-EAG

Taking pictures has become my hobby since the Digital Camera became affordable... it gave me space to experiment in different light settings, outdoors, indoors..... and thats when I made the connection with nature around me. I enjoy clicking nature more than anything else. More of that in my next blog.

The Lover dreams to be a maggot

When the Maggot lost his soul,
He felt something very awesome in all.

His foot walked a bloodless Antarctica,
then an absconding mind got captured in Sahara;
His hands curled along the Amazon’s deadly imagica,
Whilst a pair of eyes stuck deep in the Marina.


When the Maggot lost his love,
He found his face hung on a multiplying web.

An army of drizzle might rescue him,
And through the unending pain of his wound,
He'd sense nature beckoning by his window,
Close, vivid and achingly fragile than ever.


When the Maggot lost his mind,
He saw things, original and animated.

His skin evenly peeled off to reveal,
A Foliage that had replaced the dead mattress.
A bare breasted skimming blue stoops down,
Low and he find his mamma and her kiss.


When the Maggot lost his heart,
He borrowed one from the Flintstone.

Stabbing it amidst a scorching vacuum,
He’d watch the scarlet drops bloom,
With his new bosom struggling to get set,
But the dark descended and his drive got lost.

********************************************

The Maggot fell into a deep haze,
after closing all exits and the rest,
From a world that’s never existed,
To a land where lived Peter pan and Alice.

Then he found his absconding soul,
Floating or dancing above his skull.

The Maggot turned for the first time,
And saw his siblings and the parents,
Working at the fields, and their home,
Alive and rusty, happy and peaceful.

Then the Maggot caught his mind,
That was busy with its unreal find.

The Maggot quit the chase,
For he’d woke up into a giant butterfly,
Waving its elegant blazing symmetry,
to find himself no more a maggot.

Hence the Maggot discovered the love,
Who looked awfully dissimilar but alike his heart.

5 years & 6 strings

Other than aimless twanging, I don't really get around to doing much with my guitar(s) nowadays. It's more like look-drool-foreplay-quit. Yes, I've been quite frigid with my guitar since the last couple of years.

The funny part is that... I never stopped buying new ones... or drooling at the sleek, deadly ones in shop windows... or watching legends squealing theirs on video.

I'm drawing too much of a parallel between guitars n chicks :P

I'm just plain lazy... I guess. There were times when I picked up my guitar and out flowed a nice sounding riff or two. Better still when the band was around. People of similar talent and taste, I played shit, they played shit, all of us were happy! But yea, the band was a pillar of motivation. When we were at our practice pad, we had no reason to show off, nothing to live up to. Just play. And yea, the pressure of having to put up a good show at the gig next week made sure that we learned all the songs down to the last note!

Bygone times. There's no gig next week. No motivation :(

For me, playing the guitar is all about performing... about fitting into a band and letting loose a medley of beautiful sounds and watching the audience enjoy it.

I guess that applies to a lot of things, to a lot of people. Man is not meant to live solo. He needs to show-off (loud or subtle, how he does it is his own business). He NEEDS to caress his ego.

Aren't we all show-offs, one way or the other?

This whole thing ended up just like it does when I take up my guitar... start at one thing, end at another.

What's the whole point of this? Lemme go think... meanwhile... you can surf to another web page.

Klick!

Coffee at the Park..

Absolute Trust

He is very restless, scampering here and there, watching TV for a minute, then chasing the soft ball and kicking it under the sofa, running into legs and squealing his appreciation as he is picked up and hoisted high above so he can touch the wind chimes.

Very keen and observant, he picks up the faintest rumble of his father’s bike as it enters the narrow lane. He bounds down the length of the living room, all excited at the prospect of playing rough and tumble with his Appa-whom-he-loves-the-most. He hurtles down with the energy of a small meteor; Appa-whom-he-loves-the-most balances the bike with his right foot on the steps that lead into the house.

It’s an old house. The steps are rather high and steep. The little one cannot climb down without assistance, and sometimes when we sit down together on the steps to watch The Mynah, The Crow and The Jackfruit, his tiny feet dangles half-way between the first concrete plane and the next.

As he reaches the very edge, this confident young man, all of two years, takes an unhesitating leap into his father’s outstretched arms. He jumps, without a shadow of doubt in his mind, supremely confident that Appa-whom-he-loves-the-most will catch him and he will come to no harm.

Now, that is what I call absolute trust.