The Idea-smithy

My blog’s god-father tags me to post a photograph taken this year with the instructions that it be,

One photo that you have clicked this year that is special to you. Could be anything…aesthetic, technical or personal. Also, put in a short note why it is special.

So here is the memorable photograph of this year. Quite interestingly, it was probably being short at the same time that I was being tagged. Yes, this was shot yesterday on the beach.

It has been an eventful, difficult year and I’m not sorry to bid it goodbye. On the other hand, among the much betrayal and viciousness I’ve encountered, there have been moments of solace, of rest, of peace. I’ve had things and people I’ve loved ripped away from me and at the end of it, I realise I’m left with the only thing that matters…which no one can steal away from me. I’m at peace with myself.

This is a photograph of a good friend, someone who makes me re-think my XXFactor-attitude of ‘men are such a-holes’. Yesterday while talking about a common friend and her ex-, I asked him,

What is it with men anyway? Why can’t they be more like you? You are so sorted out.

He just smiled in response.

We had a late, leisurely lunch and then strolled down to the beach. There we walked around, talking about nothing in particular. I was thinking of the first time I was at this beach, with my former best friend/love of my life. It is his birthday today and I won’t call him to wish him. In fact I thought of him yesterday at the beach but not remembering his birthday until I saw the reminder on my calendar. I’m at peace with my ghostly memories finally.

I took out the camera I bought earlier this year, dreaming of the wonderful photography that would follow. I didn’t use it, not enough. But it is never too late to start, I guess (and that’s duly noticed I suppose as per Arzan’s comment!). It is a good camera and I’m very proud of it. My first real ‘big buy’ for myself that I bought on my own without anyone else looking over my shoulder.

My companion was walking along slowly near the water, calm and peaceful as always. Even while, being a good friend, I know the inner turmoil that churns inside him. My dear sensitive, serene friend. He was deeply patient as I fussed about with the zoom and the settings until I got an angle I liked. The photographs never turned out the way I wanted. Finally I sighed and just shot without thinking too much. And this is what turned out. The only real memory that I want to carry forward.

I’m very proud of the way this photograph turned out…proud of my camera, proud of my friend and proud of myself for finally capturing what I’ve been seeing inside my head for a long time. This picture stands for the elusive quality that has become most valuable of all..serenity. There is an unposed simplicity in his stance as well as the infinite, boundless promise of hope and potential that the open sea always holds. I can almost feel the sea breeze that is ruffling his hair and hear the subtle wash of waves on sand, rising above the din of voices around me. I particularly like the play of colours in the sky. That perfect twilight moment before the night turns black when the rest of the world looks dark in comparison and the sky holds center-stage. It seems to be asking us to slow down and not get so wrapped up in our little dramas that we lose on the most wonderful experience of all - just being ourselves. Every person is an island…an island of paradise. Why try and conquer another’s piece of land when Paradise itself belongs to you?

It was a memorable evening. And a memorable conversation. A memorable lesson in patience and serenity. A great friend. All worth carrying forward into 2008. Happy new year to all of you!

I tag the following people to pick out their favorite photograph of 2007 and tell me why it is special to them:

Neha Vishwanathan because I’m awestruck by her ability to tell a story from a fragment or a picture.

Akshay Mahajan because his pictures are not just snapshots but entire sagas of their own.

La Deb asks me to write about writing. Hell’s bells! Since I claim I’ll go to the ends of the earth to do what my friends ask of me, I’m bound. But what…would…I…know…about…writing? Moreover, whatever will I say that hasn’t been said by her, talent par excellence herself?

Here goes nevertheless….

Writing is a conversation. So talk. Then again, most people don’t know how to talk. Let’s start again. Writing, like talking should be as simple as thinking. You don’t try to think. You just do. The ideas just appear in your head in pictures, in images, in sounds, in smells, in words. As you instinctively understand them without needing to string them together into coherent sentences, assume that your listeners and readers will do the same. You’ll be amazed at how easily people understand each other.

Writing is not a performance art. It is a technique, a medium of expression at best. And don’t look for ways to use a certain word. Maybe you really love that word. Rest assured that if your love is true, it will find a way into your expression without your having to engineer a sentence for it. Contrived ideas and sentences are painful. The effort shows and real class is in being, not in trying.

Writing is an art but a disciplined one. This is pretty basic but still true. Use correct grammar (but don’t agonize over it). Check your spellings (that’s what Spell Check and the dotted red lines are for). Try to use short sentences. This isn’t a definitive rule but try not to exceed more than 2 lines for a single sentence. And please, please, use paragraphs. It really makes reading easier and your writing more coherent.

Writing is the art of revealing and concealing thought. There is real power in saying something in fewer words. Short stories, advertisement taglines, joke punchlines all rely on this. Bloggers, do try fifty-five word stories. These are an excellent way to practise concise writing.

And finally, don’t ever forget that writing is expression. There are no rules about writing styles. Think of what makes you laugh: sarcasm, spoofs, mimicry, slapstick, nonsense, fantasy, irony. There are as many kinds of writing as there are people in the world. I think it is a grave mistake, at least in the beginning, to follow anybody else’s work. Find your own style and develop it.

I’d really like to hear these people’s thoughts on writing:

Neha Vishwanathan, because her writing is simple, straightforward and unaffected, celebrity-blogger status notwithstanding. Poetry, narratives, fiction-fragments, each post on Neha’s blog is a delight to read.

Alphabet Soup, because I’ve watched her writing grow practically at super-speed from basic potential to bestseller material. Her output never ceases to amaze me. How do you do it, girl?

N, because I have the good fortune to know her offline as well and I know that her expression is always top-quality. Neat, slick and impactful…these apply to her speech, emails and posts. Let’s hear it from the pro!

Manuscrypts, because no one can write a short story like he can!

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She was the kind that stopped to pet stray puppies. But food was only ever surreptitiously slipped to bit-bound horses ferrying kids on beaches and abandoned cows. Dogs and cats had their fans world-over but who thought of these forgotten ones? She did. Impartial with love but she tried to distribute equally what she could and ended up caring for the underdogs (or horses). Fair share for everyone.

Saturday afternoon found her clutching an envelope, mixed excitement and resignation. She didn’t even really like shopping. But one did what one must. She thought of last week’s phone call, begging, pleading with her to do her part to make one life easier. She sighed and thought, no human being should have to beg that way. So she squared her shoulders and walked in. A new credit card gleamed in the darkness of her wallet. It wouldn’t be lonely for long. Not as long as she was around to see it got its fair share.

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For Ammani’s 24-hour challenge-4

Julie’s story made me laugh. And want to write about my falling story (ies) too. So here goes…

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I sauntered into the college canteen. It was evening and every table was packed, with students, juniors, seniors, peers bitching about classes, laughing, eating, being teenagers. It was the rare appearance of a salwar-kameez on me. Pink and white with high white sandals. Yessir, who says I can’t be a lady?

I sashayed past the hellos and the friendly catcalls and stopped at the table of my nemesis - the wise-cracking Alec Smart from the next class. Familiar cheeky grin replaced by a faintly admiring smile and a reluctant,

Ah…nice.

Gleeful, I perched on the edge of the table, all coy and ladylike, preparing to be the picture of flirtatious loveliness. When suddenly *creak*…the table legs folded under me and I was splayed all over the floor. Hmph….so much for ladylike.

Everyone in the canteen had a good laugh. Except Alec Smart who bent over in concern and said,

Are you okay?

I laughed right into his face. Yes it was funny and a start to a good friendship.

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Once I rushed into the physics lab, a few minutes behind schedule, heaving a sigh of relief that the lab assistant didn’t spot me. Plonking books on table, I aimed for the stool but missed (can you believe how terrible my aim is???). Yes, once more I sat down straight on the floor. Plenty of hahaha that time round too. All my disastrous performances happen to packed audiences.

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Once I was walking down the road showing off my new black leather high heeled boots, thinking to myself just how wonderful I must look. Indeed I must have since a guy on a bike slowed, then continued staring at me as he whizzed by, head turning full 180 degrees (well almost). I scowled at him and muttered a curse on ‘bird-watchers‘. And then my toe caught on a broken stone (these Mumbai roads!!!) and I keeled over. Net damage: Bruised knees. Injured ego. Total loss of ladylike pride. But it still makes me laugh when I think of it.

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Fell down the stairs…once, twice…oh I think at least once down every staircase I’ve had to use more than twice. Count - school, college, work, three apartments….you do the math. Mostly when I was alone. Once in a crowd….right in the middle of lunch break in college. Like I said…my performances bring the house down - a full house.

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Right then, sitting on your butt, looking and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot, you can choose to agree with life’s observation or not. I run with what’s before my eyes. So I laughed every time. And now too. Falling sure is hard on the knees (and the butt unless you’re really well-padded) but is a not-so-gentle reminder to lighten up and not take yourself so seriously.

Hence I conclude, pride may come before a fall, but what comes after? Laughter of course!