Project 365: Day 29, Portraits of Friends for life


Portraits-rohit-pansare-photography

Mr. Naveed and Mrs. Annie in their element!

For couples having problems with their partners, I recommend a dose of this image once everyday! You may look at it when your upset or make your partner stare at it if he/she is upset. I guarantee 100% results!

As for this quirky couple, I hope you stay always the way you are! God bless!

A common tale of separation…


Ryan sat wrapped in his thoughts as his boss discussed about office politics in the back seat of his car. Ryan had missed his bus, of all the days,  today, when there was a transporters strike. An hour after waiting for a lift, finally it was his boss who had stopped the car. Ryan was relieved, thinking he could make it into the city in time, which indeed he did. Ryan got down on the highway and took a taxi from the cross roads to his apartment. As he got down near the apartment, he realised that he had forgotten to buy veggies to cook for the night.Tired and bored, Ryan decided against cooking for the evening and instead went down to a restaurant nearby for dinner. He ordered for french fries, a large bugger and a soda.

As the waiter brought his order, Ryan noticed her, a beautiful girl, sitting right in the corner, just two tables in front of him. She was the same girl he had passed on his way in.  Ryan forgot the horrible taste of the burger almost immediately. A strange urge to walk up to her table and tell her how beautiful he thought she was took over him. Just then her friends, two girls and a guy, appeared out of nowhere. Ryan cursed under his breath, through his half eaten burger. His meal was almost over, while theirs was just getting started. Ryan couldn’t take his eye’s off her angelic face. They had made eye-contact several times in the past 15 mins, however the girl became more conscious after her friends had arrived. Ryan ordered for another tasteless burger with the hope of making eye contact with the girl again. He admired her jaw line and well placed cheek bones. She had a perfectly photogenic face. Ryan, a photographer, couldn’t help but imagine, what a beautiful face the girl had for portraiture. He would do anything to photograph this girl. Just as he was lost in his thoughts, the waiter brought his bill. Ryan paid the bill and got up to leave. As he crossed the door, he glanced at her one last time and there, their eyes met! For a moment, a thought of stopping at her table, and telling her what he felt, flashed through his head, but he had not stopped.

Instead of heading home, Ryan found himself waiting outside the restaurant. He had to see her face once, he thought. Once he had to let her know that he was still there waiting. He felt he was out of his mind, having never done this before. As he waited outside he noticed that, now she had her back to him. He silently cursed his luck and sat down on the curb, thinking was it desperation, plain infatuation or just love at first sight that had hit him here. As he pondered on this, he saw her walk out on the road, but alas he had not seen her come out! He had not seen her face, as she crossed the road with her friends with her back to him. She would have turned to see him if she had noticed him sit on the curb, but she didn’t. She continued to walk away from him. Ryan got up and started walking briskly towards them. As they walked under the street lights only their shadows appeared to move. Ryan kept walking briskly, stopped, briefly glanced over his shoulder, then started walking towards his home again.

What if Ryan had stopped at the table to tell her how he felt? What if Ryan had followed her home, just so that he can “accidentally” bump into her again?

The Sunflower…


How long have we known each other? Not for long, is it?

But we have known each other well.

You have been a real friend to me.

The best one among the many I have had every day.

We have risen together every morning, you following my every move.

I must say, dedication like yours is rare.

We have spent drowsy evenings conversing with the air.

I have given a part of my life to you and you have given a part too.

Who would have thought this day would come?

Maybe the fault was partly mine…

Maybe I led you on.

But believe me, my heart is pure, and hurting you is not, for what I was here.

With a heavy heart I have let you go, knowing you may never know, I cared, and how.

It is sad it has come to this now..

As you shrivel now, with sadness or fulfilment I know not.

I can’t promise you, but I shall try my best to dry your tears and help you bury the past…

I hope one day you will let go, let my friend, the rain, nourish the seeds that we helped create.

I shall wait for the day when you shall be reborn once again like the phoenix from the very ground on which you lie today…

 We shall be friends again that day and sway with the breeze, rise together, laugh off the past pain.

For whatever I might be to some, to you I will be a light for life.

 

The last supper…



I climb the last flight of stairs, tired with the bike ride from my office. The traffic takes a toll on you. I find the door unlocked, my room mate seems to be in. Which is usually rare. He likes to spend his time in the campus once he gets back from his government job. In fact, he seems to spend more time in campus than his job actually!

I rap the door twice, our bell is never switched on, my roomie answers the door looking surprised. “Your Early”, are his first words, which is true. Saying this he goes back to the kitchen. I follow him there, drawn by the aroma of dinner, almost ready. He has cooked his favorite dish today, Aloo Bhat ( a type of spiced steam rice with potatoes and veggies) and Pithla (a gravy like dish made with gram flour). I will miss this dish, the last supper…

Bhushan Chambewar, painter, industrial planner turned urban planner, multiplex dozing, hard-core Nagpurian who doesn’t like oranges, almost a pure vegetarian, sugar dunking-pickle gobbling monster with a paunch-phobia whom I have known for the past 4 years is leaving and I don’t believe it.
 
He has made me call this old dilapidated flat a home for the past 2 years, cooking up the most amazing food and at the same time cursing me when I most needed it. He has taught me to cook Nagpuri style and made me listen to the latest bollywood hits which I really didn’t like to listen.
 

He is the ‘mom’ of the house which he absolutely hates being called. Now this kid is all left alone in the land of fafdas and khaman. But this post is not about me. It’s about this great friend who has seen me through the crucial years of my very first job, my hobbies, my dreams. I wish him good luck in all his future endeavors  his new job and a normal life back in his home town. Adieu dear friend and god bless!

Practice makes the Dhobi(Laundry guy)!



Ironing is an endless conflict almost like being in a relation with a girl(I’m straight so don’t ask me about the other orientations)! Its not necessary that every time the same strategy (which starts with a Sorry and ends with an I love you) will work! There are a million other factors that come into play like, how long it took you to realise your mistake(how long the shirt was lying under a pile of other clothes?), or how sorry are you actually feeling( Is the iron hot enough?), or were you actually listening to her? (your eyes were following some skimpily clad creature) ?  Finally you end up either burning yourself or your shirt!

 

If you have little ironing(dating) experience behind you(lets call you a novice) then you may even plot a graph of time required to iron(time spent with a girl) v/s quality of ironing(relationship). At first it may seem that both are directly related. So the novice will spend a good 10 minutes on a shirt which seems to have been run over by a herd of elephants! End result? Nada! Zilch! Zero!!!Then it hits you, as you pass the Dhobi, in front of your society gate, you see him sprinkling water on the dried clothes. That’s the secret ingredient then huh? Next day you try it on  other clothes(dates) and voila! The shirt is stiff in 5 minutes(pun not intended)! The novice looks at his work proudly and shows it off too! But wait, this story doesn’t have a happy ending(Ironing/dating never does!).

I was lucky I didn’t have to go through all this, my room-mate explained a thing or two about ironing(not dating), and I still ended up with road-kills! All you novices don’t lose heart cause at the end of the tunnel, there is always light! A light of hope called practice! So however clichéd it may sound, practice makes perfectly ironed clothes! 
 
In short practice makes the dhobi who he is!