It’s rare, but… 

I woke up in the morning and was wondering about my sketch for the day when a beautiful photograph materialised on Facebook. 

Without thinking twice,  I made a quick watercolour and posted it in my album on FB titled, ‘A sketch a Day’ after giving due credit to the photographer for providing the inspiration. 

In no time I received a message from an online magazine asking me if they could use my sketch, as I had no objection, the excerpt below is what they did with it!! 
Its Rare….

When the two art’s merge, The epic combination happens…..

Left Side Photograph. 

Aayee Baarish !

The arrival of monsoons brings forth endless opportunities for photographers to capture the beauty of the season. Those dreamy, pastel shaded landscapes to interesting street scenes, just sit in a dingy corner of a roadside tea shop and watch the magic of rainy season. The only challenge remains the safety of camera equipment, especially lenses.

PC: Dev Raj Agarwal
Right Side Painting 

It takes more than rain

To stop the forward march! 
Drawing By Prenita Dutt

The two artists inspiring each other.. 🙂

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Thank you! Dad :)

Thank you Dad…
Unbeknown to mom, dad’s lively mind hatched a plan that included his three kids, his scooter and a long journey.

The occasion was our summer break and the reason was my mom’s sudden departure to her hometown, making dad realise that taking care of us was going to require more than just good intention.

The ‘three’ included me and my two brothers, at that time, all aged between seven and ten, the scooter was an old green ‘Bajaj’ (I think) and the journey was from Dehradun to Amritsar via Chandigarh. Dad did all the planning like the army officer that he was. He told us that this was a course in adventure, which got all of us hugely excited and cooperative at the same time.

We set off early in the morning, one kid in front, two and a bag at the back. Some hours into the journey, we hit the mountainous road, it was all uphill from thereon. My heart ached for the scooter as it laboured it’s way up with its heavy cargo. My brother suggested throwing me off, with his typical elder- brotherly love as he saw everyone overtaking us with aplomb. If the climb was tough, the descent saw us hurtle down on sheer momentum. “Pug nu farr” my dad yelled as his turban threatened to fly off, my brother slapped his hand on dad’s head, averting a catastrophe that was to hound us many times during our long and adventurous journey.

Upon reaching Chandigarh, our relatives almost fell as they observed our small, blackened faces and our bow legs. They insisted that we abort our journey right away. But, by now we were all bitten by the bug of being outdoors, on the road, eating at dhabas and stopping at wide open fields with tube wells gushing ice-cold water. Sitting together in a tight circle we discussed our journey animatedly. We couldn’t wait to be on our way to Amritsar and to the Verka milk booths dotting the highway.

The fragrance of the sugarcane fields, the taste of freshly made dal and roti somehow become the flavour of childhood and the wind in the hair the spirit which always uplifts. Time goes on..when we meet now, my brothers and I shake our heads in amazement at what dad so happily undertook.

That one trip gave us something that all of us cherish till date. It transformed us like nothing else has since. Dad’s love for life and good humour through all its ups and downs chiselled our own attitude. His belief that the next turn will hold a better view keeps us going till date. He taught us that you don’t need anyone’s permission to be happy, you just have to make your mind up. The bonding that we experienced through our journey was the best gift a dad could have given his children, for all this and more… Thank you Dad!

I Remember…..

I remember fireflies and moonrise. 

These were the two things that I would wait for, make time for. I would look at the exact direction from where the moon would rise and judging by the soft glow emanating from behind the thickly forested hills, know exactly when it would make an appearance. In the darkness of those times when the hills were not inhabitated and street lights didn’t exist, it was the perfect setting to observe natures night life, especially stars and fireflies. 

Surrounded by night sounds of crickets and distant cries of jackals, I would settle myself on the corner of the railing and support my back against the wall. Floating life, in the form of fireflies would glide by, they would congregate near some self-chosen bush or tree and do their magical dance, mesmerising me completely. 

Between the rising moon and the lively fireflies, the pressure cooker would release it’s steam, reminding me that dinner would not be too long now… I would get down from my perch and head downstairs after having inhaled a huge dose of solitude and beauty that would last a life time….

Todays glorious moonrise reminded me of this…Of course, the only constant was the beauty of the moon. The scene is altered beyond recognition…..

Memories of Dehradoon

Samay ki Ret…Sands of Time

Samay ki Ret…

Sitting on a new bench under an old, gracefully ageing tree, breathing timeless air…. surrounded by light that is softly filtering through the leaves…an unforgettable atmosphere is created… everything contributes to its uniqueness… cobwebs that have missed the gardener’s vigilant eye and thrive in forgotten corners…a delicate abandoned nest, still secure amidst branches, but empty. Wind that rustles and talks to the leaves like long lost friends. There is sheer poetry in the way colour fades from ancient walls and iron rusts on huge hinges. Ivy climbs and moss grows. Brave, little flowers push their way out of cobble stoned paths. These are not processes that follow any rules. They take their leisurely time to bring inimitable character to the surroundings where they exist. The gloss of newness fades into colours of immense character and depth.

Joining this timelessness is the sound of a hundred fresh young voices, soaring uniformly into a crescendo, like a flock of birds taking flight… singing an ancient hymn. I feel goose bumps rise on my arms. It feels as if the chorus is echoed by the walls that have been witness to thousands of such mornings, over the years…

The desks tell forgotten stories… new students carve out fresh tales of their own on it…each one adding their imprint on that which existed before….

Our life is not in isolation, it is a super imposition on an existing design. We all leave our mark on it…changing it forever…. for better or for worse.

The Doon School

Dehradun 

Photo credit: Raunak Bawa

October, 2015

  

Beautiful Drive…Brilliant Day!

 
A drive through the Sal forests of Doon is always a memorable one. The thick cover of trees is home to many species of birds and animals. 

What I find very interesting to watch is the poses that monkeys make as they sit perched on stumps of trees or sundry rocks! They look most human as they watch humanity rush by, sometimes scratching their heads in wonder at our impatience to overtake one another at all costs!