Malls

I enjoy going to the malls, it’s the world presenting itself in its most ostentatious classy look, with its squeaky clean floors, eating joints that promises to satisfy even the taste buds alien to the planet earth, Cafés that intoxicate the air with the aroma of roasted coffee beans and cookies which makes everyone whiff their way to them, store dummies at their elegant best behind the look through glasses, popcorns, French fries, softies, chats, colas, escalators, lights and more lights it's a flashy world all together. A first look inside a mall might make one ask the question if the experience one is going through is one of déjà vu because all over the country every mall with its people look the same whether it be the malls in Delhi, Kolkata or Chennai they all seem similar at first look, this experience of déjà vu that a guy like me might go through inside a mall might be because of the cosmopolitan nature of all these Indian metro cities. It takes a while for the environment inside a mall to sink in to a point where in the differences become profound to a level that one can recognize that its not the same people or realize that its not the same mall, more than the act of being a vagabond in the way roaming inside a mall it’s the people who come to these malls interest me the most, especially their faces.

Every face inside a mall has something to tell faces that seek attention, faces that are all alone, faces that are obscure, faces that are in a pensive state, Faces that gleam with pride for its carrying the bag that carries the logo of the exclusive designer store that it’s just been to, faces that are wrinkled yet trying to catch up with the future, faces that feel out of place, faces that are in expectation of that special some one, faces with prying eyes, faces that are tiny crying for that “one more” chocolate or ice cream, and their little smile on their faces once their mission gets accomplished, faces in anguish wishing if he or she had stopped with one child, faces in pain wishing to be single all again, withered faces in wonderment about how things have changed, Faces that look into each others eyes as the world around them disappear like a smoke in the wind leaving them all alone for eternity in the paradise that’s made of love,. hmmmmmm yup !!!! the “paradise” that we are talking about here is the Mall, yes the edifice that houses apparel stores, eating joints, multiplexes, jewelry stores, designer stores, gaming parlors, super markets, art galleries the place that’s all about noise and crowd some how transforms into paradise for some people, yes the very “Eden” the place that’s all about divinity and bliss comes alive for some people who don’t mind the thousands of cavillous eyes looking at them, who don’t mind letting their cone softies melt and make the table and their attire look as clumsy as it would if some one had splashed a milk shake across it and at them while they were busy looking into each others eyes, and for many others who breath by measures its just a Mall we are talking about. Coming back to the faces in the mall, there are faces that stand out in the crowd and there are faces that are made to be part of the crowd but never the less its all faces and every face is unique as it carries a story behind it and every face will stay unique until it carries a smile on it :). ….. 

Prasanna Kumar 

Pain

If pain is what everyone wants to get rid oneself off then why do they do it with pain? Pain makes one uncomfortable, disoriented, at times leaves one destroyed. There is pain all around; if life was to be presented as one big play, many would argue that it would be very easy to conclude it with an epilogue that human existence is pain-ridden. Life as they say is a marathon where one has to sweat it out, it’s a marathon where one gets consumed; it’s a marathon which one endeavors to make oneself worthy enough or is it really?, A child stretching out his hands to seek alms what worth could it be of to anybody, people blown into pieces by the bombs planted by fellow human beings what worth it could be of to anybody, a homeless destitute lying dead on the streets what worth it could be of to anybody, one tries to subdue the pain with more pain, why do they do so, what makes them to inflict more pain to get rid off the pain that they are in now…..

About the Painting: It’s a painting that I feel is all about human pain. What I see in the picture is pain. The artist Jay the one who painted the above picture happens to be a friend of mine, he is an artist of immense talent, his artistic acumen gives him the ability to transfer the human emotions on to the canvas with such ease that it would leave one spell bound.

Integrity is your strength and conscience should be the way of your life

“Integrity is your strength and conscience should be the way of your life” amazing words aren’t they, words which carry an immaculate message to the posterity, words that has the power to create a future full of promises when uttered to the young minds of today, words thought to be worthy of bequest by the predecessors but yet for eons these words of divinity have just remained as a dusted signboard to laputa for many. When I was young with a mind inquisitive as a bee’s flight, I was taught to carry these words in my heart and so I did. Days became weeks, weeks became months, months became years, and after 26 years it seems like a life time at least to me. Through all these years I accumulated creeds worthy of a place in my heart, and just as the many situations that had been thrown upon me by life the other day I faced a situation which made me to ask the very same question that I have asked myself time and again, it was about the worthiness of all those things that I carry in my heart when all that the world requires of me is the activity of my mind rooted to the illus ionized needs of survival. .......

Prasanna Kumar

Human Mind

Many a times I have sat in contemplation about the human mind, the way it is able to slip into the pensive state and bounce back to attending to mundane things or extraordinary affairs is something sure to be intrigued about. The brain as a faculty aids each one of us to assume a unique mind and an unique identity of ones own, and this aspect of the mind has kept millions of curious minds over the generations awake, making those minds to reflect over things in a unique way, ponder about things in a unique way, muse about things in a unique way. Myriad's of research, studies have been conducted to understand that aspect of human mind which consecrates every single human being with an uniqueness that we all know and understand as. The minds ability to cogitate, its ability to analyze, its ability to draw conclusions out of those analysis has been a mystery ever since human beings started to ruminate over it. Even after 10 centuries of research and findings about the brain and its functions, even after documenting thousands of findings about it for the benefit of posterity, “Human Brain and Human mind” still remains as mysterious as it has always been.

Each mind has its own limits, limits with respect to what it considers to be moral, normal and possible, determined predominantly by the compulsions of ones family and society. That being the case, in the stillness, in the pristine state of mind one might have no difficulty in accepting that volition is a solid state of reality, but there can be times when that very notion that one carries in the mind can be put to questioning. One might be deprived of the strength to stick to such an idea forever, making one to succumb to a diametrical idea that volition is just an illusion. How is that? What seemed to be true at one moment seems so unreal in an seemingly unfathomable way during another moment. For example : what seemed “the” most important thing for me when I was at school seems utterly unimportant now, what was real then now seems just like an unwanted aberration which has nothing to do with the way I am now. Some might argue that we change; we change because our priorities change and change is what which is eternal. If that be the case, knowing the fact that our priorities change over a period of time, why do we hold on to each and every priority as if it were a matter of utmost importance so much so that our entire life depended on it.

The mind loses its ability to be astute or sharp when it is made open to such thoughts or beliefs, I cannot bat for the other’s but for me at least it has always been true, I have always wondered why it happens to me every time. At times after enough of contemplation things become very hazy making me to abstain from such thoughts, during one such moment I was struck by a very subtle thought which made me aware that life can never be as complicated as I wish it to be. Life is just plain and simple, all one has to do is take life as it presents itself. But there have been many other instances which made me to think otherwise, but as for now lets just leave it that way, “life is just simple”.

© Kumars Photography

This photograph was taken by me and i call it as the "Flames of passion" , I was just experimenting with the lighting techniques and DOF..... 

Chennai Central Prison

This particular write up is the wish of my friend Srinivasan and I am writing it on his asking.

They say that it’s a free world and everyone who lives in it is an embodiment of the freedom that it symbolizes, but on 06/03/09 I really felt what it would be like to not to be free. Central prison is synonymous with the freedom that one loses, when the protocols of a civilized society is breached.

 On 6th of March I and my friend visited the dilapidated Chennai prison which has been open for a while now for the visitors, its one of the few places on earth that nobody would ever want to visit but me and my friend had other ideas. Before getting inside the prison the feeling inside me was one of apprehension, I don’t know why but it might be because I dint know what to expect to see. We went to the prison just to see how it would be like from the inside but we came out wondering that this place could be the height of cruelty that life can throw upon a person. Every wall had a story to tell, we saw walls that carried the paintings of different religious symbols, telling the stories of poor souls who prayed for their sins to be pardoned and we also saw many other walls that carried the ugliness of human mind as well.  

 One particular drawing done by an inmate struck me, the drawing was about different kinds of knifes and swords used by miscreants, blood was shown dripping from the edges of the swords next to it was a mans head, I could only imagine the kind of life the people who lived within those walls might have lived in the outer world, I saw words of abuses, names, dates, messages, serial numbers all scribbled across the walls. The prison looked quite old and I was told that it was made empty in 2007, but just recently the government decided to keep it open for the visitors.

 I was quite curious about the architectural style of the prison, the old way of truss roofing and arched entrances kept me inquisitive enough to google and I was surprised to find out that Chennai central prison was opened in 1837.  The place which housed many of our freedom fighters during the time when the freedom movement was at its pinnacle, later on became the place what every civil society would not want to boast about. 

-Photo by Prasanna kumar

9700 days approx.....

                                       9700 days approximately, I have lived through these many days till now. “9700 days” when I look at it in terms of a numerical figure associated with days, month’s and years it seems like a long long time, but out of these many days there are very few days  I remember.

                                               I remember the day and the feeling that I had in me when I rode my own first bicycle, the day when I lost my bicycle, the day when I knew I love gazing clouds, the day when I met with an accident on my first bike, the day when I forgot myself while playing piano, the day when I bought my guitar, the day when I was all alone on a mountain top sitting on my bike watching the sun set, the day when  for the first time I enjoyed watching the sun rise.

                                           There is nothing like watching the orange colored rays of the sun gracing the mellow clouds making it look like golden cottons scattered across the sky and there is nothing like hearing the sweet sound of the cool morning breeze and the birds chirping across the hills.

                                           I remember the day when I challenged the guts of a union guy who tried to intimidate me and I remember the day when I sat in silence under a big banyan tree in a village. I know that I might sound like a big boring person for some people, I also know that they feel that way because they don’t see what I see in the sun when it rises and they cant understand the way that I feel about the cool morning breeze and birds chirping. I don’t blame them for that, but they might argue sarcastically that the sky and the sun has always been the same for millions of years and it will be same for many more millions of years, what’s so lovely and wonderful about something which is always the same?, I would like to tell just one thing to them “the sunrise that I saw yesterday is not the same as the one that I will see tomorrow”.

                                       I too have had my own fair shares of crushes but they have never lasted beyond a day or two, I don’t know why but girls the second time when I look at them they don’t look as attractive as they were during the first time.  I think that might be the reason why I have never really got a chance to feel the way the Romeos of the past felt and the Romeos of the present feel.

                                     In these 9700 days I remember very few days, some are perched with good memories and some are with bad memories but all those days which I remember seem so special now, they seem special because of the rest of the days which weren’t special and in that way the days which weren’t special are special too because its because of those ordinary days the other few days seems special.