Showing posts with label colour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label colour. Show all posts
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
A Traveller's Train of Thoughts
"If I am not for myself,who will be for me?And if I am not for others,
With each sip I think of people who have made my travels worthwhile... Would my trip to Lonavala be the same if there was no Lalita to bring me corn pakoras and 'cutting chai'?
Would Kerala be as exotic, if there was no "Baby" to drive us through the land of spices? Wouldn't Varanasi's ghats seem morose, if "Mishraji's" Hindi poetry didn't enchant me while sailing through the Ganges?
Would my trip to Goa be as musical, if I hadn't met "Prashant Malhotra" - a talented singer from Dehradun? Would Badrinath's majestic Himalayas seem so beautiful, if I hadn't met "Mamta Kulkarni", the little girl who sold beads to travellers? Would Kota-Delhi Jan Shatabdi seem the same if a newly wed couple (Ashu and Sangeeta) didn't narrate to me their romantic love-story?Every traveller I have come across shared something with me... something that connected me to him/her... And that something was - love for life.
A little three-year old peeps from the adjacent berth. He smiles at me and happiness spreads over my lips. A charming, cherubic face - beautiful smile juxtaposed against small dewy eyes. I play with him from a distance. The baby claps his hands and chuckles with glee. All I want is to make friends with him - talk to him, and let this interaction last forever... But a black coat comes in between and my train of thoughts comes to a standstill. He asks for ticket...I show him mine. It reads - Date - 26 February, 2012
Time of departure- 16:40
Train - Mumbai - Delhi Rajdhani Express
Class - 3AC
Passenger Details - Anukriti Sharma, 25F
Coach/Seat no. - B3, 32 (Side Upper)
I take my bag and climb over to my seat. Lying down on the spotless white pillow,I close my eyes and plug in the earphones."Anand" - Kahin door jab din dhal jaaye (Somewhere faraway when the day ends...) plays on my phone. The last few lines go deep within my heart -
"Kahin To Yeh Dil Kabhi Mil Nahin Paate,
Kahin Pe Nikal Aaye Janmon Ke Naate"
(In some cases, hearts in love never meet,
and in others,old relations awaken to life..)
Like a movie, thoughts flicker in the depths of my mind - Meandering down memory lane, I see an archive of fragments...forgotten tales, lost memories, beautiful people and enriching experiences...
....
....
.... .... ....
July, 2010
I am back in Malabar Hills... At home
Mumbai...the city is drenched...swept by a ceaseless cloudburst...its drizzling since morning...the roads are jammed...high tide has anchored the sea...the temperature has ebbed... raindrops slip between my fingers...
the earth is wet... its smell is intoxicating, invigorating, inspiring...a cup of soup revives a few forgotten tales, poetry that was consigned to oblivion comes to life... I wish to compose them again...!
December 5, 2011
I am in a scenic village near Nashik...
Sharing chocolates with four tiny tots, who live in an unknown, sleepy village of Maharashtra... Omkar, Gayatri, Pappu and Amu... Having awesome dinner - home-made chicken curry garnished with love... cooked by a boatman's mother and served in a countryside hut... Pure bliss! What better way to celebrate my 25th birthday! Amidst innocent children, my country's tomorrow... In rustic villages... The essence of India. For most birthday means 5-star hotels and late night parties... But there are somethings money can't buy... the memories, smiles and happiness I take back with me to Mumbai - priceless!
25 February, 2012
I travel through the fascinating streets of Mumbai's Colaba Causeway - a colourful place, dotted with shops of artificial jewellery, handicrafts, scarves and whatnot. I stop at Leopold Cafe, a well-known joint for foodies in Mumbai. I'm with Beth - who has come to India for the first time... she is from my sister's University. I discuss a lot of things with her over huge glasses of Mango Lassi.
Her kaleidoscopic description reminds me of a short story by Anton Chekhov. I feel like the young lawyer of "The Bet" who discovers the world's beauty through words written in books - "I have climbed to the peaks of Elburz and Mont Blanc, and from there I have seen the sun rise and have watched it at evening flood the sky, the ocean, and the mountain-tops with gold and crimson."
December 4, 2011
Bhandardhara, Maharashtra
I am with my parents at a tea-stall... An old woman clad in tattered clothes walks by... Her saree is tied tightly across her waist... thighs are bare. She carries a huge vessel on top of her head... she seems older than history... wrinkles obscure her indistinct facial features... people fondly call her "mad". They say she waters the plants in the area - from early morning till late at night... incessantly... Climatic changes can't weather her spirit... Nobody pays her a paisa for what she does... Nobody pays any attention to what she does.
She is insane for the world. But for me, she is a role model... A woman who serves the humanity... If I ever go to Bhandardhara again and find green plants blossoming in the area...I will think about this old woman... her perseverance has germinated the seed of life in the area...
The train halts at Surat. I put a neatly folded fawn-coloured blanket on my lap. The satin edges seem like my experiences - beautiful against a rough life.
I take out a pen and paper from my bag and write down:
But then I realize...
Isn't it strange-all our lives we strive for permanence - a permanent residence, permanent career, permanent happiness, permanent love... Not realizing that we are mere travellers traversing this world. Why do we seek permanence when life itself is temporary?The cries of the cherubic boy jerks me to reality. He is crying with affliction... I look at him trying to do my best to lessen his pain... His parents seem distraught. The family sitting opposite me, nudge one another and mutter in hushed tones, "Don't you see, that child is mentally challenged... "
Ruskin Bond's lines resound in my ears again as a tear trickles down my cheeks -
"If I am not for myself,
who will be for me?
And if I am not for others,
what am I?
And if not now, when?"
This post has been written for Indiblogger's Around the World with Expedia Contest - Tell us about the interesting people you've met when you've travelled.
To participate click on the picture below:
You can see my post and vote for it here... Click on the picture below:
To explore the world of Expedia and travel with the World's largest online travel company, click on the picture below:
 |
| "What I am:", Jaipur |
what am I?
And if not now, when?" ~ Ganga Descends
Trees blur into the inky, violet-blue sky as I pour over the pages of Ruskin Bond's picturesque writing. I travel with him through the alleys of Landour Bazaar visualizing in my mindscape the 'livid purple' clocktower. Walking hand in hand we reach the market's dark, windy corner, where an old man sits 'hunched up over his charcoal fire, roasting peanuts'. Faint landscapes greet my eyes as I quietly sip piping hot ginger-tea.
 |
| Faint landscapes - Mumbai-Delhi Rajdhani - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
My life has been a montage of experiences. Having lived in seven different cities, I have met a variety of people and travelling has always been a fascinating experience for me...
 |
| Ginger-Tea - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
 |
| Rail experiences - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
 |
| Lalita in Lonavala - Picture Credit - Aakriti Sharma |
 |
| Sailing through Varanasi - Amarnath Sharma Photography |
 |
| Me travelling in Train; Goa - Picture Credit - Rushali Khandelwal |
Time of departure- 16:40
Train - Mumbai - Delhi Rajdhani Express
Class - 3AC
Passenger Details - Anukriti Sharma, 25F
Coach/Seat no. - B3, 32 (Side Upper)
 |
| The spotless white pillows - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
 |
| Sunset at Aksa Beach - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
Kahin Pe Nikal Aaye Janmon Ke Naate"
(In some cases, hearts in love never meet,
and in others,old relations awaken to life..)
 |
| Wave-like memories - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
....
....
.... .... ....
 |
| In conversation with myself - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
I am back in Malabar Hills... At home
Mumbai...the city is drenched...swept by a ceaseless cloudburst...its drizzling since morning...the roads are jammed...high tide has anchored the sea...the temperature has ebbed... raindrops slip between my fingers...
the earth is wet... its smell is intoxicating, invigorating, inspiring...a cup of soup revives a few forgotten tales, poetry that was consigned to oblivion comes to life... I wish to compose them again...!
 |
| With Radha in Maharashtra - Picture Credit - Abha Sharma |
I am in a scenic village near Nashik...
 |
| Tiny Tots - Gayatri, Omkar, Pappu and Amu - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
 |
| Beth at home - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
I travel through the fascinating streets of Mumbai's Colaba Causeway - a colourful place, dotted with shops of artificial jewellery, handicrafts, scarves and whatnot. I stop at Leopold Cafe, a well-known joint for foodies in Mumbai. I'm with Beth - who has come to India for the first time... she is from my sister's University. I discuss a lot of things with her over huge glasses of Mango Lassi.
 |
| Cloudy land, Lonavala - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
She has been a traveller... She takes me places through her narration... From the clear blue waters of Fiji I travel to the magnificient monuments of Rome... The cold snow of Rapid City brush under my feet as Japan's volcanoes come to life...
 |
| Golden Crimson Sunset - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
December 4, 2011
Bhandardhara, Maharashtra
 |
| Green Maharashtra, Clean Maharashtra - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
 |
| Having Tea in Bhandardhara - Picture Credit - Abha Sharma |
 |
| Even Gods reside here, Maharashtra - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
 |
| Nurturing the seed of life - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
I take out a pen and paper from my bag and write down:
 |
| Tales of the open Road |
Har reh-guzar pe chalne wale...
Mahv-e-safar hain hum.
(The one who walks on every path...
Such a traveller am I.)
Ahl-e-duniyaa hai badi khoobsoorat...
Gar waqt-e-karam hai kam.
(The people of this world are extremely beautiful...
But time for benevolence is less.)
~ Anukriti
Soon dinner is served... Chicken curry mixed with dal and rice reminds me of the delicious tales of Satyajit Ray. I think about all the people I have met so far... They have been such wonderful companions... I wish I could talk to them forever... Learn new things from them... ~ Anukriti
But then I realize...
 |
| Seeking permanence in a temporary life - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
 |
| A cherubic boy at India Gate - Anukriti Sharma Photography |
"If I am not for myself,
who will be for me?
And if I am not for others,
what am I?
And if not now, when?"
 |
| A tear trickles down my cheek; Picture Credit - Sambuddha Jash |
To participate click on the picture below:
Saturday, 25 June 2011
Imbuing India - Painting our Historical Homeland
This post won The first runner-up Prize - HP Laserjet Printer worth 15000/- INR in the HP contest
 |
| Miranda House, Delhi University; Picture Clicked by: Anukriti Sharma |
 |
| Noida-GIP Mall; Picture Clicked by: Anukriti Sharma |
 |
| Malabar Hills, Mumbai; Picture Clicked by:Anukriti Sharma |
 |
| Faculty of Arts, Delhi University; Picture Clicked by: Anukriti Sharma |
 |
| Lucknow, 1863; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
When photography was introduced in India in 1840s, it wasn't that life was bland and colourless. Life was as picturesque as it is now but since technological development was less advanced, images were usually 'black and white'. With the advent of cinematics, an era of looking at reality in motion came into prominence. But, sadly that too remained monochromatic.When we look at old relics of India's beautiful culture and tradition: A woman dressed up in a gorgeous red sari appears clothed in dull grey; a lush green field in Kolkata in the 1870s appears to be dabbed in a morose background. Life then may seem insipid to us though it was as lively as it is now.
Bombay - The gateway to India - Source: Youtube
If I had an opportunity to see anything in colour, it would definitely be India of the past painted in the colours of present. |
| 1920s-Indian Upper Class Couple; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
 | |||||||
| Darjeeling Hill Train 1930s; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
Imagine ancient Maharajas and Rajahs clad in jewels and finery; Rabindranath Tagore reclining on his Diwan; Indian revolutionaries and leaders like Shaheed Bhagat Singh, B.R.Ambedkar, Subhash Chandra Bose, Lal Bahadur Shastri, Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru; the old newspapers, magazines and novels; men and women in traditional attires in 1900s; means of transport used during 1800s; people celebrating various festivals; monumnets and cities basking in the glory of past; or a rare video taken during India's Independence. Now imagine these images in colour. Doesn't it produce a spectacular effect in your mind?
 | ||||
| Temple architecture -Trichy 1880s; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
India is a country which exhibits a distinctive past. As Mark Twain described, “This is indeed India; the land of dreams and romance, of fabulous wealth and fabulous poverty--the country of a thousand nations and a hundred tongues, of a thousand religions and two million gods, cradle of the human race, birthplace of human speech, mother of history, grandmother of legend, great-grandmother of tradition, whose yesterdays bear date with the mouldering antiquities of the rest of the nations—the one sole country under the sun that is endowed with an imperishable interest for alien prince and alien peasant, for lettered and ignorant, wise and fool, rich and poor, bond and free, the one land that all men desire to see, and having seen once, by even a glimpse, would not give that glimpse for the shows of all the rest of the globe combined.”— Following the Equator, 1897
 |
| Shimla - 1868; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
 | |||
| Rabindranath Tagore; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
 | ||
| Portrait of Dancing Girl; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
 | ||||||||
| Mughals of Delhi ; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
Indian Independence - Rare Video; Source - Youtube
Woh kaale-safed rangon mein chipe chehre...
Maano koi daastaan sunaate hain.
Beete lamhon ki sej se utar kar humein,
Apni yaadein yaad dilaate hain...
Rang-heen chehron mein qaid,
Kayi puraane khwaab chupe hain...
Inhe Zindagi ke rangon se bhar kar,
Aao chand lamhe aaj phir se jee lete hain...
Woh kaale-safed rangon mein chipe chehre...
Maano koi daastaan sunaate hain.
Beete lamhon ki sej se utar kar humein,
Apni yaadein yaad dilaate hain...
 |
| India - Durga Puja celebrations in 1900s; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
Kayi puraane khwaab chupe hain...
Inhe Zindagi ke rangon se bhar kar,
Aao chand lamhe aaj phir se jee lete hain...
 |
| Mahatma Gandhi and his followers; Source- www.oldindianphotos.in |
This post has been written for HP Laserjet Take Flight With Colour Contest in association with http://www.Indiblogger.in Please click below to find out more :)
To enter the contest and promote this blogpost, Click on:
http://www.indiblogger.in/indipost.php?post=64104Sunday, 26 December 2010
Like Rust Soaked in the 'Iron'ies of Life...
Geography changes...History doesn't
History remains buried like a corpse in the graveyard of time...
Waiting for reawakening...
Waiting for rejuvenation...
History breathes through recollections...
The Past is an old friend...
Decomposing like rust...
Soaked in the 'iron'ies of life...
Talking about the past...
An old woman used to sit along the sidewalk selling red roses...
now only withered flowers is what one finds there...
Abandoned hospitals, abandoned asylums, abandoned cities, abandoned people, abandoned memories...A place which once existed as reality now lies on the fringes of decay...
A celebrated actress fettered in the shackles of her own image and consciousness gives in to abnormality and finally invites her death...
A hospital which once served as the birthplace of some... now celebrates its doomsday
An asylum where mentally unstable people found stability in one another... no longer exists...
Decaying floor, the ceiling falls apart...
just like the minds of those that once inhabited the place...
A whore-house once celebrated for its revelries... now stinks of rotten semen slithering through its polychromatic chambers
A city once flourishing with music and dance... now lies in the ruins of memories and the dearth of unfulfilled desire...
Hostels, hotel rooms, restaurants, movie theaters, trains...
every bit of this earth we dwell upon...
has been traversed sometime or another by another person...
every place you might stay in might have been infested with the soul of another...
a part of us remains in the depths of places...in the depths of time...
Cities have mushroomed over the debris of the dead
Monuments have been erected on time's ashes...
History remains unfettered...
People die...
Past lives on...
Camouflaged in the history of time...
Time...
That can never be relived...
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Blue,Red and Black-A Dream of Despair, Desire and Death
Blue, Red and Black...Melancholy spreads itself upon my back.
Travelling to hell, I've lost my track.
Hopeless hope isn't the only setback.
Sinister sins are now ready for attack.
I see two slabs of walls inclined perpendicular to each other, suspended in space. No ceiling, no floor; no light no darkness; nothing below, nothing beyond - just this piece of existence in the depths of my vision. The wall is monochromatic - an evenly painted - dark as well as luminous, stark as well as gloomy - shimmering as the ultramarine sea, secluded as the azure sky, pure as sapphire - The brightest, deepest, most prominent shade of Cobalt Blue. At the centre where the two walls meet to form the corner I see your tall form...you are seated hugging your knees. Your face is buried in the shadows of abysmal desolateness. Your eyes are resplendent with tears... the lovely brown decaffeinated into a translucent hazel... You are wearing a pair of blue jeans and a plain, white un-tucked shirt. Your frizzy hair is tousled and your glasses lie off-centre... I emerge from the depths of nothingness... My eyes meet yours and you smile faintly...I feel pained and anguished to see you in loneliness... Feeling the desire to hold and comfort you, I move towards you...
Red, Black and Blue...
Sex and desire of every hue.
Buried lovers emerge anew.
Dark passions blur my view.
Where should I hide?I've no clue!
You and I are together...The walls are slowly stained with blood... like paint, the red blood of my body covers the walls...As we come closer to each other the colour deepens...from its rosy hue to flaming ruby! I slip my fingers into yours and hold you close to me. You run your fingers on my back and embrace me tightly...We feel each other's warmth for what seems like eternity! I caress your hair and you hold my face in your hands... I look deep into your eyes and we come so close that all we can feel is each other's breath. You feel the desire to kiss me,so you slightly brush your lips against mine...Exactly at that moment, even before we are fully aware of what we are doing, a flash of liquid light, white and blinding, interrupts us and we are detatched eternally!
Black, Blue and Red...
I hear desperate wails in my head.
Distorted dreams blot my bed.
Frozen tears I incessantly shed.
Woe! I'm perpetually dead...
I see myself... I am sitting huddled in the corner... exactly at the place where you were seated. The walls are now charred Black...it appears like burnt wood-dilapidated and ruined to the core! I see absurd, frenzied shadows of unidentifiable forms on the walls... these shadows are desperately trying to run away...from what?I am unaware of! They all are lamenting, wailing in agony and pain... they all seem restless, frantic and absorbed in a stupor of frenzy. Their cacphony is tormenting! Agitated, I try looking down and see mutilated hands of different men pointing their fingers at me. I hear sounds of laughter, ridicule and insults; people mocking fun at me! I cover my ears with the palm of my hands but as I do so, the noise grows louder! I look at the hands and try recognizing them...Among these hands I am horrified to find yours! I can even hear your voice along with the others! Harrassed and in utter disbelief, I tear off my clothes. A glass coffin emerges from oblivion and encloses me within itself... In complete brutality and heartlessness, I rip open my breast... I take out my bleeding heart and hold it in my hands. My heart is nothing but a grotesque, malformed amalgation of blood and flesh... shapeless and broken like a mirror into a thousand shards! The noises and shadows fade from the walls and is replaced by my own shadow... The bizarre semblance of hands disappear as well... All that is visible now, is my shadow on the wall, content and happy...I can also see my bloodied dead body, with its heart ripped apart. I hear a calm voice from afar...it sounds like a hymn, a chant, a prayer, a blessing! It says, ''I'll always be there for you, Don't worry Anukriti''...I recognize it...it seems like a lullaby soothing me into an endless sleep... At last I am happy and satisfied...for I am dead!A smile lingers over my face, and my body remains entombed in the glass coffin forever!
