Tuesday, 12 March 2013


Its about a day or two before..when I was reading this book before “the absolute khushwant”. A well-written book indeed .. like any other piece written by khushwant singh.

I bought  this book already on discount and it came out to be rs. 170.  it’s a book of 200 pages ONLY. While purchasing a product, people try to calculate if its price is worth by various factors. For eg, if you buy a t-shirt, you would go for points like how is the material, what is the colour, how it fits you, what is the brand name, does it go with your style statement and so on. Same way, while purchasing a book, you see who is the author, whats the genre, do the genre fits with your current mood (as in sometimes we are in mood to read mystery, sci-fi, philosophy, religion..and sometimes when you just realise your brain being impervious but still bitten by that book worm you live with daily, even my child-hood enid blyton or nancy drew could provide me lots and lots of solace.) hm, so, I was saying..while purchasing book, we see a lot many factors. But, I, a typical baniyan . .does this. Ok . this book has 200 pages. It costs rs170. 200/170= something something. Ok. Costly. But, I am buying it.
When I came home, and I leafed through the pages (but wasn’t reading as such), I realised  3-4  sheets, that means, 6-8 sides had photographs printed on them. I dint care to look what those photographs were, I just knew that they were. And I was like! Fuck man! Already a thin book of 200 pages..and they have wasted 4-5 pages on photographs. I mean,  they could have zoomed in..and still fitted some text on margins or something. As****e. 

"A few things that irritated you, boiled you with rage, things that frustrated from deep within could provide with such solace, satisfaction and could put you in rapture and awe, at a later stage of life.  When those things we observe not at a superficial, rather a deeper level."  I started reading that book just after my mid sems finished. An excellent reading experience, it kept me glued to it..and so came a stage when I come to that very chapter where those photographs were imprinted. Oh my! Different photographs, shouting with different stages of author, different people he has had met, all In black and white to give an impression how antique they were. I was browsing through those pages one by one. Author’s wife, kaval,  their small boy-child. i still remember his name. it was rahul. Then came a picture of sweet little  girl..author’s daughter I guess. I don’t know why I have a special feeling for little girls. Though I don’t like little kids much, they are a bunch of notorious, irritating and..i am not getting the correct word, to speak in my mother-tongue..bachhey chittey hotey hai.  But, I do like small sweet little girls. Little girls are generally calm and quiet. And after seeing that picture, I kindda felt like I have travelled through a time machine into times seen by khushwant. In his book, he has talked some what of his married life. He says about some differences between him and his life. This makes me think if he dint have a happy married life. Has he not seen a happy married life. (I am sorry if I am repeating same line again). This kindda gave me answer ‘yes’. But, leafing through those pages, I realised that no..he is an old man now. He has seen so much of life.  It is foolish on my part if I expect him to write about only good times of his life.
So, that moment, for the first time, made me realise that a photograph has some better power of capturing moments than a “writing”. As in, since my school-time, whenever I had a feeling of capturing moments, good-bad-very good-very bad, I have always made it a point to capture it by writing. It seems foolish, but, I have written about every stage of my life. the time i entered into my new school, the times when our sections changed and so did my friends, my 1st sem, my first crush, everything. i have done this in one or the other form. some writings i wrote on a notepad with a pen, some are lying in "my documents". some were written on back sides of my course registers. some were written on notepads, mailed to me from my one account to another and then those files deleted to ensure that i hold them with me, still accessible to nobody else. And the worst part is, the much you write the more develops an urge to write and that urge is uncontrollable. It is violent I should say. Sometimes, while typing i reach to a speed where I scare not to hamper my key board. my otherwise soft fingers start striking those keys with such a momentum. i thus, try to not to write. So. I was saying that an age-old practise of writing-and-reading always put me partial towards it. But, a moment, a minute told me that photographs have a power to give you an out-of-body-experience. I think words are just a meagre tool to express about the stage I saw in those few pages.  (^_^)