Now that things are going good, and I'm actually starting to understand lenses, I've started shooting stuff other than flowers and at times other than before sunrise, (wat was described in the previous post's comment page as 'graduate') though i hardly dare go beyond the first hour and half of the sun.
Mistakes keep happening and I end up deleting more than three times the number of photos i keep. And some can be frustating- because while they look mind boggling on the LCD, they move the photographer to tears when viewed on a larger screen.
And by now, I need to learn to take multiple shots of the same object rather than look at the pic on the display on the first try, smile and move my tripod to something else.
The first photo I'm putting up today is one that blows my mind off on the small screen but then the object is completely out of focus, when actually seen big. But I swear to the spirits of all amateur photographers before me, I'll take that photo again, and this time, I'll bring it out good.
This is the one I'm talking about
And ya, anyway,
here are the better ones...
(That's my first shot at shooting a person... and ya, that's also my buddy Sam, who lost his background to a shutter speed of 100 while I left the flash on)
(I feared the sun's rays till yesterday. today, I started loving the morning rays, and the shadows it brings with it)
(How I maintained the focus for this one, I have no idea)
(This one's in front of our P.G block... Incidentally, I saw it for the first time when I shot it, in all my three years and a half in Loyola)
(Someone told me this one's got no story, but wat the hell.. I like it)
(This is one from that family you saw up there. Honestly, I'm publicising my neighborhood)
(My day's favorite, taken just before I packed my tripod for the day. Taken from one of the most cared for gardens in my neighborhood)
Next post: do I even need to say it?
The wanna be photographer's struck gold!
More than a century and half's passed ever since Joseph Nicephore Niepce (I missed two accents aiguilles in there) invented the photographic camera in 1827. Thousands have mastered the art since and there are a couple of billion cameras in the world today. And you thought, in all these years those wanna-be photographers were extinct.
Unfortunately, they are not . These closet photosophers come to the surface once in a while with a borrowed camera and lots of inspiration. They take pictures of commonday things expecting great photographs; look at their own pictures; frown; shake their heads and delete them. Then after three million and thirty seven tries and half that number of wasted dry cells, they finally get a photo they can look at, smile, come back to their world and go home for dinner. And then they sit on Photoshop and apply pretty weird effects thanx to which the picture finally looks tolerable to the human eye. And unfortunatelyfor you, I am one of them.
I always had a fascination for still photography, which i did not pursue thanx to Nikon and Cannon who price those digi SLRs at above 50,000.
When I finally decided to start some serious shooting, there were two forces behind it. One was Scott Kelby whose book on photography has been very enlightenig and whose poor sense of humor matches mine. (By the way if u ARE Scott Kelby, ignore that last sentence, you have an amazingly rib tickling collection of jokes. If, you are not, then ignore the last sentence, I was lying)
The second's ma friend who drove me to the edge of the cliff above the sea of jealousy (yeah, I am a retired poet) by bragging about her photography lessons every fifteen seconds. (Not bragging actually, t was just narration, at times, enlightening and eventually, motivating).
(And not exactly every fifteen seconds either)
So, I borrowed a Digi SLR from ma fren who is also my Junior (And who has still photography as a part of his course. Why do all good things happen to batches after yours?), a tripod from another close friend and hopefully a lens from another in the recent future (read tomorrow)
And just a day before I started, I took another Digi, which was not SLR and which belonged to another close friend of mine and shot some pics for practice.
And here I am posting those pics. Firstly, because they show how bad my sense of photography is; secondly,they are gros so that might make you want to visit my blog again. And thirdly, when I put up other photos in future, you'll know how much I have improved (and by God's grace, that might even happen)
(That was one hell of a cobra they killed near an undisclosed location, just in case animal rights activists are viewing this. Notice the shallow depth of field, with the background out of focus.
(If you are a genuine photographer, I know u must be saying "This guy can't use lenses for nuts) 
(I think this one's a pretty nice view of one of the most useful corners in my house. And just in case you want to know how good I am at manipulating photos with softwares, try this: http://www.orkut.com/AlbumZoom.aspx?uid=12446339638028837856&pid=11)
"The joy of photography lies in making look beautiful what people would say "Gros!"
-Me
And for those who regularly vistit ma blog (That's a sizeable 0.000007% of the world's population, unless you are a forst timer, which would make it 0.0000076), I know i promised to post Chakeela's photo. Sorry to dissapoint you, I promise that will happen soon).
Next post: More photos
For the first time in my life i got an upper hand on an eunuch- on ma joureney back from nepal. And it wasn't easy.
M back in hyderabad, after 14 days n ma room feels like heaven, except for the blanket- it smells soorta queer- must be two weeks of dampness takin its toll.
Weather back home was murderous, weather on the way was worse- The sun in bengal n orisssa was accompanied by hot air, which made it difficult for tiny human cells to survive.
First things first, i had no reservation. I met a friend at the station (implied that we became friends after we met)- guru- n he had no berth either. Nyways, with the whole train at our disposal and no place to sleep, we (at least I) stayed awake all night.
We did try our hand at using the Indian way of getting things done- but the TTE asked for a thousand bucks for one seat, which was way above our financial extravaganza.
Middle of the night we met Akash, who had a berth and no intention of sleeping. And while Guru slept, me and akash stayed awake till morning.
An Uncle on the side got up at 4, asked us the time, n started shaving.
My hopes began to rise- if uncle was going to stay awake, he could sit where we were sitting n v could sleep on his berth. I went to the bathroom. Five minuttes later, no such luck. Akash was fast asleep beside guru, n uncle was back in dreamland with vengeance and a clean shaved face.
I finally did go to sleep - at 7.30 in the morning and was promptly awakened by beggars two hours later. Orissa was amazingly uncomfortable and it wasn't until we were way inside Andhra in the afrternoon that things startyed to cool down.
Andhra Pradesh also brought about another encounter- an eunuch called Chakeela.
I gave the Eunuch (Hijda) 10 bucks with the assurance that (s)he would return 5.
(s)he didn't.
Bored as i was, i decided i neede to do something to get back my money. So i, and akash, followed the eunuch, crying 'paanch rupiya de re'. 7 bogeys and half an hour later (s)he returned the money.
In the process, i sustained over a dozen attacks on my privates, spoke like a million dirty words to balance the conversation, had to throw him/her away wen (s)he tried to grasp me, came to know his/her name, experinced the support and encouragement of fellow passengers, had to take snap shots of chakeela n her friend ramya on the videocam.
Also, i gave a gruelling fifteen minutes lecture on truth telling and working with dignity, standing beside the door, received a compliment saying ' ni kallu baag hunnai ra'*,
turned down three offers from both teh eunuchs to 'go to the bathroom', called hiom/her Sree devi twice before (s)he told me his/her name, and never gave up the flirtatious smile on my face.
Wen i finally got the five rupees (near vishakaptnam), i held it out in my hand like a trophy and showed it to all the people in the seven bogeys whoever were willing to listen.
I also congratulated chakeela who didn't seem really happy and was less willing to shake hands.
The five ruppee coin is tucked away in my purse.
And ya, Chakeela's friend was called Ramya
Next post: Chakeela's photo
*(to which i replied: thanx, topic hage cheyaku, na aidu rupai ei ra),
Tu es belle
Et tu es toute a quoi je peux penser
Si je ferme mes yeux, je te vois
Si je les ouvre, tu est la
Je te sens
Toujours...
Partout...
Autour de moi,
Je sens ton corps dans mes bras
Tes yeux en regardant du ciel
Tes levres sur les miennes
Tu hantes mes reves
Tu hantes mes penses
Je te veux..
Dans ma vie...
Et je veux etre
Dans la tienne...
*********
Quand.....
Comment....
Est-ce que
Tu seras la mienne?
(Note: If you know french, edit me)
He lived aloof and alone, amidstthe woods afar
Where men didn't haunt him nor society his freedom mar
The nearest hut he knew was over a mile away
He slept alone by the night and lazed so by the day
He had a friend though, the only friend he ever had
A greyhound- old, daunted, smelly and equally sad
Two teeth short, it drooled and drooped to gravity
Much like its master, void of any levity
Master and hound, they owned an old wooden hut in the woods
It creaked and squealed to each of nature's changing moods
A dusty patched deerskin lay near the broken fireplace
And a rusty gun hung by the wall with wasted grace.
They spent all summer lazing and winter just grunting
Save when the seasons changed, and they'd go duck-hunting
There best days, though, were spent by the fire, eating burnt meat
Master lying lazily on the chair, hound at his feet.
Thus years passed one after another, time raced ahead
The master's back hunched over, the dog was bout half dead
Their muscles rested, their bones began to rot and defile
Hunting trips became rarer and shorter by the mile
One cold foggy morn, The old man scraped his rusty old gun
Fall ws at it's end and so was his only chance to have fun
Game'd be plenty now and he may get no chance again
Whistling out to hs oldest friend, he whispered- "Captain!"
Captain came limping, saliva droolin from his mouth
His hunter instinct not aroused by the geese flying south
But would follow his master till time did them apart
As both made their last foray into the forest heart
Their joints creaked as they walked, old master and half dead hound
They tramped the marshy land to where the duck abound
They arrived at the lakeside and hid among the reeds
Game was plenty and unaware, the man prepared his leads.
The rusty gun shook hard as it coughed out a bullet
A hasty flutter of wings as game and shot met
"Go, get him, Captain", the man ordered the dog, eyeing him
With forced alacrity, the hound limped and splashed to swim
But his upsurged joy gave his rot decaying bpomes no strength
And when he had splashed his way through half the target length
His hound instinct no longer gave him a helping hand
And he stopped and sank into the marshy sand
The master watched with taerful eyes, this entire death show
He cried, reached his hand out to the air, grieved head hung low
He stood up, walked home and brought back a rope, traumatised
With aged fatigue, he pulled out his only friend demised
His strength fading fast, he dragged the body to his lair
Sat near the fire, hound at his feet, and scratched its dead hair
The deerskin lay dirtily wet and splattered with mud
His throat was sore with cold dry cough and clothes smeared with mud
He stared into the fire as the room dimly it lit
He pulled over the dog and threw it onto the fire
Stench and smoke rose and spread in the room, not lessening his pain
Intoxicated, he lay still on the chair, never to rise again
Well, I created a blog but realised that i wasn't puttin up anything on it... so, for a start, here's some photographs of me n ma frens (whose photographs I have).
If you find yourself here, gimme a comment; if you don't, write me a comment anyway.
Left: Me n Pooja at ma place b4 the party
Right: Bidush: Leavin on a Jet (?) Plane
Left: Me n Rommel on the banks of Hussain Saagar 
Left:Rommel, Pooja n Me: Jst b4 the party at ma place
Right: Me n Shruti on her B'day
Left: The team with which i mde my (our) first film: Vaishali, Soni, Deborah, Me n Chintaka
Left: Rahul n me at the Ameerpet House
Right: Me n Rishava on the way from Chintaka's party to Johan's. Both of us three fourths drunk...Wat a weekend that was...
Left: Me n Jon, All caked up on Shruti's birthday
Right: Me n Ken on stage, College day
I'm not the dog in the picture, though we probably think alike. A few phrases describe me: Hard Thinker, Powerful speaker, Fierce writer, Lazy doer....
The IQ test on facebook says I scored 140, I don't think so.
I like everything in life, except those potholes on the road. I dream of a day when they will no longer be there.
People ask me if I rememeber my dreams when I wake up. Incidentally, I dream when I am fully awake.
I talk to myself, I cheer people up, I dance in the office washroom, I can hide seven pencils in my hair, I genuinely avoid hurting everyone, I work towards a better world. In short, I am what people would call weird. I love the title.
I am creative, intelligent, modest on the outside and arrogant on the inside, focussed, egoistic and eccentric, and I swear I pity those who are not.