Last Diwali, I got the perfect opportunity to practice some bokeh. But as it happens with me, I forgot to post the pictures. I found them again while going through the archives yesterday and so here they are.

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Of Devilish Tendencies


Of Devilish Tendencies

Blogger and dear friend Sushmita Sarkar of My Unfinished Life at the Samsung Party Bloggers event at Underdoggs Sports Bar and Grill.

Firecrackers are just the tip of the iceberg

No, really. I have over a thousand photographs from Diwali. I cannot figure out a way of posting them here, or anywhere else for that matter, without killing the internet.


The day I figure out an easy way to sort of automatically add non-ugly-looking watermarks, every post will have at the very least five pictures. Promise.

Meanwhile, here’s one.

Happy Diwali

I am painfully aware of the delay in posting this but better late than never, right? Here’s wishing everyone a very Happy Diwali. I spent my Diwali making rangolis, decorating the house with diyas, and photographing firecrackers while gorging on food no human who doesn’t wish to die of sheer calorie intake should ever touch. What did you do?

You know there’s more coming, right? There’s more coming.

Karva Chauth

Yesterday, married Hindu women from North India observed a strict fast (no food or water until the sighting of the moon) praying for the longevity of their husbands’ lives. I took to the roof to get some shots of the moon, but after playing hide-and-seek for a good half hour the moon chose to continue hiding under cloud cover. Thankfully, the women saw a dull blurred moon and that was enough to conclude their fast.

Personally, I don’t believe in it. I enjoy the rituals for their social significance but fasting never made sense to me. I believe in food, in eating it.

Nevertheless, a Happy Karva Chauth to everyone. ­čÖé


Catch a Falling Star

For love may come and tap you on the shoulder some starless night
Just in case you feel you want to hold her
You’ll have a pocketful of starlight

– ‘Catch a Falling Star’ by Paul Vance and Lee Pockriss


A deified gulp

The sin?
My name.

In the name they Sin
and sing
of the Sins they Sing,
erase many a men;

base rats rule the world,
cutthroats revered,
deep cuts and rum tins?

A mark of intrepid pretense
while┬ádeath –
the reward.


Lest this post strike you as perhaps a tad abstract, let me take this opportunity to apologise for I find myself gripped firmly in the talons of an existential crisis and this is the most sensible thing to come out of the camera as well as my pen. Oh, and in case you’re wondering what that light is, it’s the flash from my Nokia E-5. This photograph has not been edited at all, not even the slightest bit. No, nada, nil. Zilch.