Weekly Photo Challenge: Curve




This photo was one of my first ever experiments in light painting and whenever I look at it, I find myself lost in these colorful curves.

Taken using a Nikon D7000 without a tripod using a 105mm macro lens. In response to the Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge.


Weekly Photography Challenge: Numbers


Numbers hold the key to some of the best-kept secrets of the universe. They determine order among chaos, sequences in seemingly random patterns, predictability in the unpredictable. The elegance of numbers is just dazzling and one cannot imagine a world without numbers. How else would we answer questions like ‘how old are you?’, or ‘how many stars are there in the sky?’ – the latter was a trick question to throw you off.

If you take a closer look, you’d be overwhelmed by the sheer number of numbers we have around us. Be it  bits of encoded information on your phone or your daughter’s birthday, everything is represented using strings of these digits; intimidating, isn’t it?

When I read this week’s challenge brief, I instantly fixated on a fairly simplistic interpretation of numbers in our life – the license plate (or number plate, as we like to call it in this part of the world). Presented here is a photo of a crankshaft vehicle I stumbled across in Coventry, UK – it also makes you reflect on how quickly things go from ‘in-style’ to ‘outdated’.

Age may not be just a number after all!

Weekly Photo Challenge: Merge

Photography is all about light and capturing its interaction with objects around us. So essentially when we take a photo, we try merging light with the object of our fascination. For this week’s theme, I tried doing something different, mixing elements of light with some everyday decoration pieces and an empty bottle of maple syrup. What came out was dramatic and mesmerizing, almost what you’d see while hallucinating. Hope you guys enjoy it.


Weekly Writing Challenge: From Mundane to Meaningful – The Suicide Mission

The inevitability of death is the only constant in our mundane existence, the one thing you can truly depend upon. Mathematically speaking, the probability of us dying eventually is always 1 – few events around us can make the same claim. Even though we tend to lose ourselves in our worldly affairs and ignore this reality from time to time, it always looms ahead of us, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right time to make its move – you’ll never know what hit you when it finally grabs you by the throat, suffocating you, and sucking out every last vestige of life from your body. I’m sure most of us never want to grow old, never want to die, be immortal, but that is not the case. Death always finds a way to catch up to you when you least expect it. There, however, still exist individuals wishing to escape the drudgery of life, embracing death as a means to an end. These are people who have hit rock-bottom, and then some. Circumstances shove them in the middle of the fiercest sea-storm, miles away from the shore, and believe me they swim hard, waiting for the currents to subside, the huge waves to flatten out so that they can come up for some air, but that doesn’t happen, with nothing to keep them afloat, no one to throw them a life-saver, until all that is left for them is to take fate into their own hands, inhale one last painful breath, filling their lungs with water, burning their insides, and ending it all.

Yesterday was an extremely busy day at the office, what with all the business meetings and a work-load that knows no end. I ended up getting late (no surprises there), and it was almost 8:30 p.m. before I got up to leave for home. I headed into the pitch-black parking lot, finding my way to the car with the little light emanating from my cell phone. After putting my laptop bag in the back seat, I parked myself into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life as I started it and gave it some gas. It was downright spooky in the parking lot so I hurriedly turned on the headlights. I put the car in reverse, took a slight turn to the left, shifted to first, and steered it towards the ramp. Once on the service road, I tried hard to maneuver my car through all the water that had accumulated on the road due to recent rains, all the while praying to God for saving me from any invisible potholes and open sewer-holes, and breathed a sigh of relief only after taking a u-turn onto the relatively-dry main road (i.e. Shahra-e-Faisal). I eased into the fast lane, all the while checking my rear-view and side mirrors for any rouge drivers in the insane traffic. Suddenly out of nowhere, a man jumped out from the shadows and started making his way towards the center of the road. The guy was thin, about 5′-8″, slightly balding with unkempt hair and wearing a dirty shalwar qameez. The only thing I could think was, “Has he lost his mind or has he gone blind?” I slowed down my car a bit to get a better look at what was unfolding right in front of me. What happened next was nothing short of insane. This man sat on the road and lay down on his back, as if it were his sofa at home, not caring for the cars speeding past towards and around him. He actually looked at peace with himself, a sad smile on his face, staring right into the eyes of his sorry existence as if mocking it, as if what he was about to do was going to liberate him. Thankfully, the speeding drivers saw him lying there and slowed down. A few motorcyclists stopped in the middle of the road and tried helping the man on his feet. He struggled, shrugged off the motorcyclists and pushed himself in front of a speeding Corolla in the next lane. It was at that exact moment that I had to take a right turn and the man slipped out of my peripheral vision. I do not know whether the car crashed into him or was the driver able to brake just in time. It was all I could think about when I reached home. I could feel the onset of a slight headache, my mind racing with questions that may never be answered. What happened to him? Did he survive? Why did he resort to such a thing? Was suicide the only way out? What were his last thoughts? Did he have any family?

People say that when you hit rock-bottom, the only way you can go now is up. I say what if there is no rock bottom? What if the conditions become so bad that you have no other way out? What if getting up in the morning everyday becomes a chore? What if the only feeling you have left is that of worthlessness? Unfortunately, the recent socio-economic scenario has turned life into a nightmare for the common man. Joblessness is everywhere, and that makes things a lot worse for him. A thousand rupees seems more like a hundred, with the ever-increasing inflation and prices of even the most basic human needs far out of his reach. Pride does not have a place in this society and he has to resort to begging if he wants to support his family.

Had he been a celebrity, he would have made headlines, the media making sure everyone knew of the circumstances leading to his suicide. People would have held vigils in front of his house, thousands attending his funeral, mourning the sad demise of the great man. Heck, even his suicide attempt would have made page 6, if not the front page. At least then I would have known the fate of that unfortunate man. But he was just a common man with nothing extraordinary going on in his life; not someone worthy of any attention. All I could hope for was that he was safe, and that his brush with death had put some sense into him and helped him put his life in perspective; it sure helped me prioritize mine.

Originally posted here.