India happening

Train stations in India are definitely one of the most entertaining places to be at. It’s your taste of the ‘real’ India. Thousands of people of all shapes, sizes and colors swarm in and out of the station every minute. Their lives run according to the clock of the train. One miss and their whole day is havoc. I spent an hour on the station today. People running around to reach their designated station before the train arrives while a few others having a cold glass of lemon juice or a thumbs up to quench their thirst. In India, there is no private and public space.

All spaces are public and they kind of take that to a whole different level. At the station, I saw some women with little kids opening boxes of food and having a hearty meal while people around them are pushing and shoving each other to get into the train in front of them. Pushing and shoving..yes. That’s another very eventful sight at the station (not the kind you think Im referring to.. OH.. THAT would definitely be entertaining). So anyway, a train has several compartments like general, first class, men, women etc and as soon as the train stops, there are people trying to get out and get in the same compartment. To me it looked like a mini stampede and I wonder every time if someone does get hurt badly. Also confirms my thoughts about the destructive behavior of boys and men alike, which doesn’t cease irrespective of their age.

Let me tell you something equally wonderful. The women’s compartment is SO much worse. Same intensity of pulling and pushing, and by the way, while there’s a small scale massacre taking place at the doors of these compartments, women inside are least bit bothered. They’re cutting vegetables (oh yes, they do), knitting sweaters, reading books, chatting, sleeping, fighting, and having intensive conversations about what a bitch of a woman their mother in law is and all of that jazz. Also, the fights are the best part of a journey. I think they sort of invent abuses on the spot, because every third retaliation during the exchange is an abuse Im not aware of. Great educational experience, in terms of vocabulary building.

I should really be doing my homework right now

Hello again readers.

It's been a long break from my blog. I had just sat down, intense and determined expression on face, only one goal in mind.. to tackle my statistics homework today. Clearly, I was not as determined. 10 minutes later and im typing away on my blog. Statistics is obviously far far far away from my area of interest.

So a lot is happening. ALOT of interesting things. For pure joy and some well deserved narcissistic behavior, i shall list (yes, I have this habit of putting everything in organized lists) all the events.

1. It all started with the Dreesha launch. For those of you who don't know about this - Dreesha is a photo essay book about Qatar launched by Qatar Narratives. It is their third publication and my second with the Qatar Narratives. The book launched on 19th February, 2010.

Soon after, my inbox was flooded with photography contests in Qatar. There has been a sudden upsurge of photography out here. I am, of course, more than delighted.

2. I get an email from the Waqif Art Center that Qatar is participating in the Bastakiya Art Festival 2010 in Dubai and they have picked a few Dreesha contributors to be part of it. I could scream as loud right now as I did when I saw my name in the list (Junaid can testify).

3. Days pass, then comes the epic day. So me and Aku went to Souq Waqif. The day is great and we can't take enough pictures of the place and each other. Time flies by (2.30 - 6.30pm) amidst changes of faham (coal in arabic), smoke and memorable conversations. Time to pay the bill and I walk in the restaurant. As I pay the bill and Im walking out, I black out and well, crash into a wall which happen to be in the way before I hit the ground. Fancy exit right? Not so much. I have a cut above my eye. Aku freaked out. My awesome friends, Florent and Omer came to my rescue. Omer had the sugar water I was supposed to be drinking and got high. Very entertaining.
Let me tell you, this incident did not deter mine and Aku's spirit. Usually people would decide to take a long break from sheesha. We, far from normal people, decided to go again after a few days and smoke a little (keyword: little) lesser than.. well.. 4 hours.

4. Aku, Omer and me went yesterday to shop for some festival worth wardrobe. I bought my first Mango dress. Deep bluish purple. It's a beauty. 'Bangable' was one of the comments when I wore it.

Ok bye now.

Second chances

Life gives us many chances. Some we see, some we don’t. Some we take, some we don’t. Some we take and cherish, some we regret. We leave our life to God. We know that he knows what’s going to happen and how. Why do we hurt? Why does the emotion exist?
They say hurt is the first step to realization. Time is a great healer and with the passage of time we realize that why things happen when they happen. But why do we have to realize? Why do we have to hurt? Why can’t God sometimes just let us heal? Why can’t he just let us know that this event in your life happened for this reason and then just heal us. Why do we have to know the reason behind every situation that occurs? Sometimes we don’t want to know, sometimes we want to erase it, not think about it. Sometimes we just don’t want to think why it happened. They say realization makes you stronger. But what if you don’t want to be strong? What if, for once, you just want someone to hold you, to heal you, to make life easier? Why cant life be easy at times. Why do we always have to fight, to hurt, to heal, to realize. Whoever said time is a great healer obviously didn’t fuck up a lot in life. Everyone isn’t strong. Everyone can’t be the first in life’s race. Sometimes people break inside. They hurt and over time they don’t heal, they break. Someone in his or her life could be responsible for hurting someone else. What about the other person? How does it feel to carry the guilt in your heart? To know that someone hurts because you brought that situation on them? Why can’t God just relieve these emotions? For once, maybe for once, you don’t want to be strong. You don’t want to carry this burden. For once, can you, God, can you just heal and not let us break inside? Just once?

Birthday Blues

Birthday's would be like THE most exciting time of my life ever since I was a little kid. It would be like a whole big event being planned. Two weeks in advance, my mom and my sister would go out shopping for 'return gifts' (back in the day) and all those shiny accessories to put on walls and make the house look like an interior decorator's nightmare. But what joy those things would bring.
I would start pestering my sister about my birthday gift a month prior to my birthday. It would be so much fun to make her do all my work (which she does anyway) just because my birthday is coming up and she has to be nice-r to me.
Next would be the birthday invitations and the dress shopping. Colorful invitations with a house map on the back would be printed and I would go and distribute them in school, thrilled that I've invited all my favorite people and anticipating the big day. Then came the dresses. One for wearing to school (those wonderful 'color dress' days) and the other for the evening party. Finally the big day - Games, laughter, yummy cake and food and lots of gifts and joy. I actually miss that.
Im going to turn 22 tomorrow, and for the first time in these 22 years my sister isn't here to celebrate it with me. There was no birthday month. There was no gift pestering talk. I know she's going to be just as lonely tomorrow as I will be, and her voice will choke with emotions as she will talk to me tonight at 12am.
I miss you.

Manifestation of life

We all have hobbies and interests. But there are some interests that stand out. That captures our heart in a way that sets it apart from all the rest.

For me, this stands true for photography. When I hold the camera in my hand, everything goes still. All sounds drop out, all people; possibly staring at me thinking, “what in the world is so nice about that tree?” blur. All I hear is my heartbeat, picking up pace, I feel the blood gushing through my body. I steady my hand and close my left eye. My fingers fiddle with the dial, finding the right focus, the sharpness and click.

They say it’s not the end that matters, but the journey to find that end that counts. I don’t go “wooow” when I see my pictures after I click them. Im very self-critical and I think that helps. But for me, every picture is my journey. It’s my journey to that place that makes me so happy it’s overwhelming.

It’s not just a camera for me. For me it’s a high, a rush. It’s creativity. It’s a place that holds no boundaries, it’s a place where I find, me. It’s a manifestation of life (thanks for that Junaid !).