Metamorphosis #skyscraper #beginning #oldtimes #vscodesign #vintage #architecture #retro #vscocam #vsco_art #vscocommunity


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@solomonsquarepants
Metamorphosis #skyscraper #beginning #oldtimes #vscodesign #vintage #architecture #retro #vscocam #vsco_art #vscocommunity

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3 in #pattern #drama #frame #no #straight #vscodesign #vscocam
Here I am. The Cotton Candy Man. #jobs #belowpovertyline #poverty #children #love #candy #joy #childhood #times #thirdworld #economics #vscocommunity #vsco #vscopeople #vscoindia #everydayindia #everydayindian
Cat. Beauty. Sleep. #beauty #meow #meowth #damn #break #life #relax #chilling #cat #pussycat #puppycat #mamacat #vsco_art #vscoanimal #vsco #vscoworld #everyday #smoke
The fall of the single screen theatres means loss of entertainment to the most basic , working citizen. The common man. With the multiplex coming up. There is a social pressure on these people to match up to the elite. This would mean more people making it there than here. Very few realise the change. Entertainment here is raw, rustic and crude. People enjoy the movie than pretend to study it. #movie #singlescreen #single #screen #fall #commonman #man #vscocommunity #vsco #multiplex #elite #entertainment #right #basicright #twist #pressure #society #vscocam #balaji #vintage #font #face

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Things that should never be part of The Family Album
The Family Album. However nostalgic and happy it may sound, it's the darkest place on earth one can revisit. Especially if you have an embarrassing photo to protect.
That conversation of how you've changed. Things like, "oh those chubby wubby cheeks", "those eyes", "so CUTE!!!!"... can really get on your nerves. But all this is pretty easy to handle, at least over time you will learn to ignore such questions.
But mine was different. Very strange I could say. This was during a family get together some three or four years ago, it was also my birthday and all my relatives had come over. It was the biggest birthday I ever had, yet the worst of memories. Talking about memories, Indians as far as I've observed have this very funny habit of looking at the family album when they have nothing else to with their lives at a get together.
So by late afternoon after a really heavy lunch and several cups of Ice Cream, one Uncle from a corner of the packed living room shouts out saying, "HEY!!, switch off that TV", at this the kids start groaning and some super sensitive one start crying. So a super active cousin who wants to prove to the family she is "mature" and can handle situations comes up with this idea, "Let's look at the family album", and immediately everyone in the room starts approving with such excitement. So much excitement that some of the noise is just a few of them burping.
The birthday boy has the privilege of choosing which album he wants to until his parents give him "the face" and he brings the entire bundle. So I emptied the whole rack of albums and dump it in front of eagerly waiting crowd.
Everything was going really well, or so I thought, until the universe turned against me as this picture was spotted.
I was one and a half years old when they took this picture of mine.
No, I was not into modelling for nude art. It was just a neighbor who was a photographer, seems like the frame was something out of his imagination or maybe he just found it cute. But whatever the case, he had no idea what effect it would have on me one fine day in the future.
And that day had already come. The aunt who saw the pic first burst out laughing and then the picture get's passed around and everyone bursts out laughing. I had no idea as to what was happening until my super active cousin showed it to me.
NO WAY!!!
I could not speak a word. I looked at my mom and she had a story to tell. It seems I was really interested with the telephone (that nice red thing in the background if you can stop looking at the foreground). So my mom would put me up on the table as she and my dad romanced and then I got a chance to speak. So I would go on and on without a stop. Once my mom left me on the table as I was talking to dad, it was only after the phone got cut did I realize my mom had left. The next instance is what has been photographed.
But what was embarrassing was not the story. Not even the photograph. It was a question my aunt asked me. All my cousins were laughing at me ad poking fun and she asks, "Is it still the same?", a thunderous laugh from the crowd. I was scarred for life.
Flirting Truth
Me flirting with someone I’m not emotionally invested in:
Me flirting with someone I actually like:
THIS IS SO ACCURATE
Hahahahahahaha
Pride of Baghdad
If you haven't read it yet, go read it before you read this. Pride of Baghdad is a complete visual orgasm till the end. Amazing adaptaion of a true story of four Lions that were "Freed" from the Baghdad Zoo when the US bombed the place.
Approximately 130 pages, I think it qualifies as a graphic novella. Beautiful illustrations by Niko Henrichon, with a very Lion-ish feel to it. I can go on about the story for ages.
It would be amazing if Simba was Ali's ancestor. It's a gripping story, and what makes it so is that it's real. This is something that should become a movie.
The whole work talks about themes like War, Freedom, Gender role among others. Universal themes in a Middle Eastern context. A world of complexities and conflict presented from a point of view 'The Keepers' have happily forgotten.
There are certain parts in the Graphic Novel where The Pride seems more human. Safa the oldest in the pride is raped when she is in the wild, and because of this she prefers being captive. A feeling of being safe although restricted in many ways. If we were to look at it, we can connect this to wearing a Burqa. The patriarchal society is also presented to the reader when Ali and Zil have a conversation about hunting. Ali questions Zil if it is fear that keeps him from hunting down Horses, for which Zil says, "it's women's work".
All of us have various images and view points of the Iraq War, Pride of Baghdad acts as a reflection of not just the war but everything that was Iraq before the first bomb. The hopes of the younger generation for a new "Horizon" is what Pride of Baghdad all about.
Special thanks to Rosemin for being the amazingly cooperative model. #surreal #kissoflove #twofaceone #college #bliss
Selfiehehehe
One happy selfie ain't it?
I call it the 'Happy Class Selfie'. I know I am bad when it comes to nomenclature, but as far as this picture is concerned, I think I have done justice. The reason why I took this picture is pretty simple, so I think I'll tell you that by the end of this article.
I would like to start by describing the people in the picture. The one holding the phone is me, a fact that is pretty evident because of my arm in the foreground. To my left is Andre Amoikon and to my right is Ms Kannaki Deka, one of the coolest teachers in college. I would love to talk about her super powers, but I guess I'll save it for another assignment.
Those characters in the background are Pauline (lady in pink stripes), Arokiyaraj (the blue check rushing out of the frame), and not to forget Dharani in the corner.
Now, coming back to the first question I promised to answer.
The picture was Andre's idea. He wanted to make the picture all the more interesting and different by including the teacher herself. Not that it would promise me any kind of increment, but just for the fun of it.

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The Man in my head
This happened yesterday. Seems like years ago, but actually this happened only yesterday. I would stand at the end of this tunnel and this man standing at the other end would call me. I never understood his words, but I was certain he was calling me. He looked dirty, and blood stains all over his torn clothes. All around me there is war. A sort of war only those who think they might get hurt die and the others just get hurt. Not a scratch on the one with a blank mind. Your mind decides if you live or die. In fact you live only if you do not allow your mind to decide, because if you do, you are letting it think and you are about to die in this war. Who started this war is a mystery. But certainly it was a thought. And that very thought killed its creator. Now this man was calling me. I had to think. I have thought so much already. So now I am a victim too. I never understood why he has to kill me? or was he trying to save me from something he could not explain to me because explanation required thought? I was still looking at him when he was shot in the head. The bullet went through his temples. Blood splattered on the wall and all this was clear because of the harsh light hitting him from where the bullet came in. Slowly it got brighter and brighter. All I could tell myself was "shut the fuck up and get some sleep" , but I was already sleeping. I wake up. I was dreaming, but to dream I had to think, so was I sleeping or dreaming now? , with this thought I go back to sleep. Someone had cleared the body. I looked around. Total silence. Nothing like how people described war or how I read about it. I started to walk to the other side through the tunnel. This was the only safe route I knew to the other side, but I was a little intimidated after seeing a man shot right in front of my eyes. A million voices in my head, everyone telling me not to think. But how am I to stop thinking when the fear of being killed surrounds me like a blanket. It was summer for sure, but I did not want to think of it as it could mean my life if I ever go beyond this and come to a conclusion. I reached the end of the tunnel. Cold breeze on my forehead, and that was a bad sign. It was not comforting, it was like the doctor cleaning the body surface with spirit before he tore it apart. I open my eyes and duck. SHIT!! That was close. The bullet just missed my head. The same harsh light again, hitting right into my eyes. I fell on the ground and crawled back into the tunnel. Like a worm peeping out of a hole, I stuck my face till my nose was outside the tunnel with all possibilities of being shot. Out of nowhere a railway track, and this harsh light now had a sound. It was like a train was coming towards me. I pulled my head in and sat up looking out, a million men, all in uniform running with a rhythm. The one leading them holding a torch like a javelin to be thrown. Their steps were so hard it felt like they were running over my heart. I wondered what was happening and the army came to a sudden halt. Everybody turned towards the tunnel and grin. Grinned as if a lion had caught its prey and was about to eat it. They pulled me out. Mercilessly dragged me out. It was still dark, I could see the moon when they hit me, tore my clothes. One guy came running and kicked me real hard on my ribs and I heard it crack. I could not breath properly. They put a rope around my neck, I was already running out of breath, gasping, kicking and struggling. Slowly I was hoisted. Up there I could see night turning to day. Light eating up darkness. Gasping for breath and I look up. The clouds break open beautifully. The sun shines bright. I open my eyes and I am on the floor. I wake up and walk to my bathroom. I shut the door and open the shower and it starts to rain. Rain. If it only rained before they caught me. Everything would have washed away, and the war would have come to an end. But now it does here. What use is something if it does not happen where it is supposed to happen ? Every drop felt like blood. So many people died. So many. The army of million men killed them all. A thought and they were killed. Only sunlight could kill these one million. But they are not dead, they just went down. A little shadow is what they want. When summers get hot, people will want shade, and they will wait until then to strike. If there is sunlight, there will be heat. You cannot give it away just because you feel thirsty. Feeling is a thought and it cannot be quenched with water. But when you are tired and dehydrated and have nothing to loose, you will sleep. You will sleep without a dream. A sleep so deep you will forget to dream. And when you do, you do not have to worry at all. I come back and the dream is over. Quite a journey it was. I dress up and step out and this dead man just walks past me. That is when I asked myself if I was still dreaming or had I already become a victim in this war where your own thoughts kill you? I stood still, could do nothing, not even think.
Memory is grey. Good and bad. Sometime it is what keeps you going, sometimes it can kill. It is not really a matter of choice, for you are built on it.
Who is talking the truth?
We are talking about Independent media and what better example can we take than the biggest dilemma of our age? the question of who started the Isreal - Palestine conflict. Mainstream media has been going crazy covering the war on Gaza, some pro and some against it.
Despite all the efforts of the mainstream media, the question still remained unanswered. There were regular debates in public forums and social media about the issue, sometimes even blaming the media (mainstream media) for twisting the news.
Now this leads to the second question, how credible is the so called Alternative media?
Without taking sides on who is right and wrong in this conflict let us talk in short about how media in many ways has influenced your decision. So in that manner, where you get your information plays a very significant role.
After a lot of discussion in class about various Alternative media forums and also my search in the internet for others seem to come to and end at one point when we go back and search for ownership of the particular company or media platform we are talking about.
During my search I came across this website by the name The Electronic Intifada. Although no background checks were done, for several reasons one could easily have his doubts that it was a Palestinian website or maybe owned by a rich Palestinian or someone who sympathizes with the issue. I also happened to read articles from the Haaretz and tweets by @Farah_Gazan (the Gazan girl who has been live tweeting the bombings)
After all this I will not be wrong if I come to this conclusion that Isreal is at fault. But I will not be right either, because they are bound to give the news that will tell only the Palestinian side of the story.
A very simple question to end this article with would be to ask how would one decide?
Only based on extensive research and reading from both sides. Also observing and noticing if the articles are being "updated" frequently to keep its audience "informed". That should solve the confusion.
Fight for women safety. It is your sister and your mother who are being attacked.
The Way I read my paper
At home we buy the Times of India. Yes, the one famous for its ads and pictures than its news. And since it is my Dad who pays for it, he gets to decide which paper he wants to read.
I personally like the Hindu and my efforts to convince my Dad to buy the Hindu have been epic failures. The reason being, he does not find Hindu to be as "colorful" as the TOI. So without any option, I stick to it.
The TOI gets some really big advertisers willing to give full page ads and most of the days the front page has some huge advertisement that catches your attention, and these advertisements range from car brands to shaving lotions. Sometimes they come up with this idea of placing a half page ad. It would look more like the other half was eaten up by a dog using a fork and a knife. Really annoying to hold an read the paper.
When you go to the next page, you have the headlines. After reading the headlines and nothing more of the article my eye shifts to this small column on the left side that stands out clearly because it is put in a box. I read this first part called the 'Contrapunto' which are essentially daily quotes. This one from the June 9th edition has one by George Bernard Shaw which says, "If you injure your neighbor, better not do it in halves".
Then I go on and read the rest of the stories in it. From there I shift to the next top story at the bottom if there is one. Since TOI has a reputation for ,you know what, I usually end up skipping that part.
I then turn to the last few pages that have this section called 'Times Trends' that have articles about new scientific developments and ongoing research which interests me. Along with that I read the 'Speaking tree' that features on the opposite page. I then go on to read 'Times Global'. I can say this is the only interesting part in the whole newspaper, so I spend a lot of time reading through it.
Once am done with it, I shift to the 'Times Nation' section that has articles on national politics and that of national importance. And that's it, my relationship with the main paper is only that much. The rest of the newspaper I read is only when I am utterly jobless and have nothing to do, so I read the advertisements including their "conditions apply".
The next part is the supplementary.
Bangalore times is my bathroom read. The science of how the brain works at its optimum level while on the commode is a very interesting one. Every detail is visible and you can in fact spot a few glitches the editorial team might have missed. But since it has only crappy articles and paid news, I don't really give much importance. What I love about BT are the pictures. From Thalaivar's full size portraits to bollywood bomb shells. But I do sit down to read Interviews of filmmakers and actors I admire.
The comic strips in BT are something I never miss. Calvin and Hobbes, Peanuts. Garfield, Hagar the horrible(on Sunday issues), Wizard of Oz. All my favorites.
So this is how I read my newspaper everyday.

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The web and The print
I could say I have reduced my newspaper reading time after I got my smartphone with which I can access the internet any time of the day (or night). So this gives me freedom from waiting for the newspaper every morning, and I can consume on it without even having to pay for it.
Talking about news websites, their content is very similar to that on print. But there are a lot of instances where on can find few unusual stories that might not make it to print. The website also has hyperlinks to videos and info graphics that makes the news more engaging.
At home we have subscribed for the Times of India. A very colorful and Ad-filled paper. It has more ads and pictures on it than actual news. Anyways it is pretty decent to read, I usually read only the Times Trends page. It has articles about scientific research and new developments et cetra.
Finding the TOI website is easy. Go to Google search and type Times of India and you will get the first result and a few more specific suggestions like Bangalore, Chennai...Click on, say Bangalore, you will find news and news information pertaining to only Bangalore. Now in this list of news headlines choose on by clicking on it. You will have a page with the news article and at the end of the article a host of other related articles to the one you are reading will be available.
Not all news articles have hyperlinks to video or info graphics. There is also a small space on top that keeps showing BREAKING news. Apart from just news, you also have the regular classifieds too.
Let MCT be!
So to all those who happen to read this and have no idea about what I am talking, here is a summary of the question I will be trying to answer in this post. MCT stands for Media, Culture and Technology. It is part of our curriculum here in college. But that apart, the main objective of this post is to answer a question that we must have asked ourselves a long time ago, but as they say, it's better late than never.
So the question was, "What does the sequence in the phrase Media, Culture and Technology suggest?
Firstly, let's start by defining the term Media. If you were to ask any lay man the reply would be quite obvious with him talking about Newspapers and Television and Films and so on. Media is a very large term, and can mean a lot of different things. So when we talk of the media we are talking about some sort of transfer happening between two parties. A message, a news... it could be anything. But I guess the difference between a simple transaction and that coming through the media is the amount of information and the amount of freedom that the latter enjoys in giving away that information.
So I see media playing a dual role here. One of inclusion and innovation. At some point it influences and triggers a change in the culture, at the same time taking an strong platform to establish itself. Like how a pair of jeans and Kurtha came to coexist.
Now like the holy trinity (laughs for a minute) we have a third player, Technology. Sounds like the least important, but it is technology that acts as a medium of transfer. Something that always keeps changing always even if the other two remain a constant.First we had newspapers, then we had the radio followed by the television, now we have so many other alternatives that need no further explanation.
So I guess the sequence is something like a hierarchy. I might be wrong, but that is how it seems. Like a step by step process. Or it could simply be there just because the one who came up with the idea felt that the sequence MCT sounded cooler than CMT or TCM.