The Rebelle blog

आज रविवार. सकाळी गच्चीवर फिरताना सभोवताली नजर फिरवली आणि गेल्या कित्येक वर्षात ह्या परिसरात रहात असताना झालेल्या बदलांचा मी मागोवा घेतला. पूर्वी सगळीकडे इथे घनदाट झाडांच्या रांगा होत्या, रस्त्याच्या दुतर्फा आणि पार डोंगरापर्यंत. मग हळूहळू मानवी वस्ती वाढायला सुरुवात झाली. आधी छोटी तुरळक घरं दिसायला लागलीत मग तीन मजली इमारती आणि आता तर टोलेजंग दहा ते पंधरा मजली गगनचुंबी इमारती. जणू आकाशाला गवसणी घालण्याकरिता त्यांच्या सगळ्यांमध्ये चढाओढ निर्माण झाली. मला आता दिसताय त्या दूर क्षितिजावर धुरकट पण तरी डौलदार अशा डोंगर रांगा. लांबून त्यांच्या स्थिर दिसणाऱ्या रेघा पाहिल्यावर एखाद्या कुंचल्याने आकाशाच्या पटलावर किती अलगद सहज रंग उमटले असा भास माझ्या मनाला स्पर्शून गेला.   वारा देखील मनातल्या आठवणींना पिंगा घालत होता. मला आठवला पावसाळ्यातला तो दिवस जेव्हा आम्ही पहिल्यांदा या नवीन घरी पाऊल टाकलं होतं. नुकत्याच सरी येऊन गेल्या होत्या आणि सगळा आसमंत मातीच्या घमघमाटात प्रसन्न भरला होता. झाडांवर पावसाचा शिडकावा इतका आल्हाददायी भासला होता. पूर्वी कधीच इतकं जवळून निसर्गाशी एकरूप होण्याची संधी...

I was going through an emotional turmoil last night and used this blog to vent out my grief. Sometimes, well, only a few times, I wonder if my understanding of grief, misery and sorrow is the same that everyone goes through or I am severly meddling these confused emotions I can't seem to word out. Whichever way it is, I felt incredibly better after writing everything here, and I am trying to assert my mind into believing that THAT which hasn't happened yet and perhaps won't take place shan't worry me and cause me distress or unncesarry panic. I suppose I already should be alert at the use of such negative energy bubbles into my conversation here. I am throwing caution to the wind and deciding not to think about anything at all. My heart goes into a ballistic mode once I conjure too many multiple scenarios in my brain and then as if ticking on a machine, it starts weaving these elaborate sequences I deem fit only for fictional accounts. Hemingway wrote A Moveable Feast...

There is simply too much to do. Too much academic strain, too much to stress about life's not-so-good moments, too much sorrow, too much work I would like to accomplish in 24 hours than I usually get done. This 'too much' is creating a big havoc in my brain right now. I find myself in a constant dilemma to wade my way through all this seemingly messy chaos. Is chaos ever organized? As I go through another round of exams and academia, just for a tiny second a thought about whether this is all really worth crosses my mind. But it's best to shove all this unwanted negative thinking under the carpet. Some days are bad, some days are good, but in the end it all comes down to our grit and self- confidence. Yes, yes, I have been falling into a quite persistent cycle of hopelessness, self-trust and misplaced faith. It's a chakra- an endless rabbit hole where I keep tugging towards a spirit that pulls me down at ends and sometimes just lifts and soars my heart to great...

I began photography when I was 17 and my Dad gifted me an expensive Casio Digital Camera for college. Prior to owning a digital camera, I had only clicked pictures through a 35 mm Kodak camera. My father never refused me the access to his camera and even printed the pictures I had clicked which sometimes were blurred, or in tilted angles which we can say, bad quality pictures. He would sit me down and explain me the techniques of holding the camera, looking through the lens and at the subject, arranging a frame and such details. After I got the Digital camera, I made a great use out of it. Wherever and whenever I travelled, my camera would be packed first. It gave me a great sense of freedom of storytelling as I captured numerous images and almost became the official family photographer. Both my great grandmothers were alive till 2007 when I clicked many of their pictures. Unfortunately, my grandpa died in April 2005, and it always made me sad that I could not click his pictures ...