Take Flight With Colour

Why must somethings be black & white, let’s open doors to colours and imagine their depth

The composition, creation of our world, and evolution of our being have dealt with colors. From the old ages to modern, with open eyes, from day’s start to it’s end, working, and finally closing eyes, comforting, we are bound to the aroma of colors. Our lives have been so deeply infused with and subjected to their presence, that imagination is paralyzed without them, words lose meaning and pictures appear impossible.

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The world has been disintegrated into two pragmatic approaches, colored and black&white. Although nothing around us that exists can be bracketed to such circles of entailment, we in our own language, have devised these approaches to define the world, and lure in the system “SYMBOLISM”. Since, nothing has remained untouched and even if it is not a part of our evergreen set of known colors, we have managed to drive our brains to find the essential combinations, shades and methods to identify, and further synthesize these unknown colors and brand them names to ascertain their existence and addition to our “evergreen” set. As I go back in time (yes, time traveling), I find how we began interpreting their being, proclaiming their usage as symbols. For instance, black symbolizing darkness and submission, white symbolizing peace and purity. Further, we conferred, black as evil and white as good or prosperous. Such an assertion is predominantly based on the contrasting effect that the two colors present to the viewer, how black like a hole swallows every color on earth vanishing its existence, and on similar level, white brightens and further adds to the visual appeal of any color on earth, it even stays same for the evil black, symbolizing the good that does not blemish evil, instead presents it with a chance same as all other existent.

I am still in those old times. You do remember, I time traveled, right?

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I am in a boat, in waters, viewing this incredible “Old North Wharf” located on Nantucket Harbor. I see the beautiful houses, capped with reddish-brown, blue roofs, distinct windows, lightened white walls with light shades of brown, very light, standing tall on this seemingly translucent spread of water. The overall outlook of the place this day is vibrant, I am caught up in the moment, looking. The blue skies, smaller clustered white clouds are still, as I await the dusk that shall part me from the glory that the place bestows. Without wasting any time, I take my camera and capture the moment, hoping to secure my vision, the beauty forever but now as I see the picture, it appears bleak, its black&white with shades of gray all over the place. It is the same place but it is not, not to me, the house looks old, looks like history, that does not help me to relive it and so I blame the technology of those days. It’s not that I don’t like black&white, it does add distinction to the image, but it’s not what I was hoping to remember, it’s not the art I am interested in, it is indeed the place itself, just the way it is, just the way I wanted it to be, I would have preferred a colored outlook.

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Well then, it’s good that I have this modern camera that can take colored pictures, I did tell you I am time traveling. I took the picture again, this time it is vibrant with all I saw and as I see it, I am mesmerized and compelled to visit the place again.

A distinction I realize resides in the colored and black&white approaches, each has it’s place but latter has become a niche of some, while the former is primitive to many. I told you, I am not against black&white but urge to fill life with colors does not let me absent it’s astounding presence, to draw nature as it is supposed to be, as it is supposed to be remembered. The black&white portraits, movie shots often describe the historic times, further the pictures often have an unhappy vibe about them, somehow when we are in this generation of technological advancement where restrictions have been crossed, to provide photographers, cameramen with tools to contemplate real life, is an initiative which human society itself adopted and began uploading their pieces and instances of life to sites like Flickr, however some still practice the art of black&white expressing their views, for they tend to relate to them better.

Coveted corners of color psychology,
traveling along the perceptual stimulus,
I recognize, I understand
their appeal, charm, what they claim,
how black, powerful, dark and submissive,
how white, clean, vulnerable and pure,
how these two, unparalleled, join forces
to comply with saturation,
representing all, in black&white.

But are they absent or neglected?
dimensions I fail to attend,
why sunset, red eclipsing blue skies,
why trees, green and prosperous,
why her blue eyes, possessing depth,
have been shaded in gray.
I would have preferred, elements coupled,
reflecting delights, anguish, in subtext
of world as we know it.

One place that has remained untouched by colored associations, is the Newspaper. The ink of black on white sheets is dominant in many papers, but the reason to such a stand is quite clear. This has nothing to do with the technology, at-least not after 1990, nor does it concern itself with art, the  only reason is cost. The mechanism to infuse colored photographs implies greater costs, which is neither favorable nor beneficial to the customer and the newspaper itself. However, the possibility of coloring the newspaper, with colored photographs picking up, has led to changes and their being  has gained unprecedented success, which brings us to newspapers on special occasions, weekly supplements and latest, hot, trendy, colorful magazines, be it political, sports, technological, featuring lively pictures that gain attention.

 

 

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But it remains a commercial landscape, they are bound to comply to the ideas of profit and minimization of expenses. But, when we are concerned, the amateur photographers, we see how quickly the transition has surfaced. Black&white is bygone for the common people, they have adopted to the totality of colored proportions, an era of black&white infused with all possible colors we can comprehend.

If you talk to me about my choices of colors, you might see a lot of yellow, red,  and blue, with black&white. I have always applauded black&white for the contrast, for the clarity they depict, you cannot misunderstand or lose any corner, but when they are further imbued with many others, it becomes magical but for me to like, it has to be decent, it has to be clean, it has to be white. If you have noticed, white goes with anything, but something appeals more. So, you pick up that something and turn it into ‘your thing’. It very much defines you, even though we don’t recognize, even though sometimes our choices are restrained by available choices, but still what we have, is the best possible thing we have liked, we have kept, given our urge to experiment with colors. As for me, I seriously am a child, and may be you are too. I am certain, even though I have passed teen years, I still possess those childish attributes, which I don’t’ want to let go. May be I am crazy for not growing up, or may be not believing that I am, but the innocence, smartness, carefree nature of a child are highly attractive and joyous to my soul. But don’t get confused that I will be kidding,I won’t be taking blues or cartoons, it’s an appreciable tool to lighten the mood, to say “Hey, if you are serious then I am too, I shall always be active (quite a satire, something I wish to accomplish), evergreen, never misunderstand a child for maturity”.

P.S…. Don’t misunderstand that Black&White photography, is just black and white, they use highly complicated techniques, softwares, color filters to add drama to their black&white imagery, to adjust the gray-scale distribution to add or subtract contrast. It is indeed an art, depicting world, but we have colors for it, I am gonna stick to them for a change.

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Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules

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I saw ‘Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules some time ago. Oh! yes, a kid movie, shoot me now. Well, I have no regrets, for it was hilarious and not at all emotional, but does give away a sweet message of shared love among siblings, in a family. The movie I felt good about because of the character Rodrick, older brother messing with younger one who is kind of sappy, yeah the cover says wimpy. It’s a sequel to the earlier in the same segment, adapted from Jeff Kinney’s well written witty story with comical illustrations.

The film portrays our very self. If your family is as protective and gaga about stuff as Greg’s parents were, you would have a hell of a time!

The Heffley family is a mix bag of awkward people who can be distinguished by each of their highlighted enactment.

“A mother trying to run the family, looking for better understanding within the family, kind of carefree with hints of social briefing.
A father who I guess is not in-charge, but has a say, shrugging off from wife’s uncanny behavior but pretending to like and accept, not so dominant on children for he once was a boy.
A big brother, picking on smaller one, the kind of fights we love, put up with and laugh as we look back and remember.
A smaller brother, who is innocent but then again pain in the ass, and because of his innocence nothing can be done about it.
However, most importantly, there is a boy in between all this, a wimpy kid, who would love to become famous, respected, adored, who dreams to set things right. He presents to us, our own self, started with pretend, away from awkwardness and humiliation to have friends and girlfriends, sometimes ending up there and other times blessed by a safe rescue, but no matter how far you run, you tend to find happiness when you abolish sham and be yourselves, when you least expect it, when you realize that mending ways with all who are close is all joy, and all trouble to reach the realization was worth it.”

The film was kinda family drama, since it was never predominantly about the kid, but the kid and people around him. Enjoyed the situation when Greg was picked up by his father as he was skating in front of all people, broadcast-ed by his mother out loud, felt like a loser and his father was like, “I know”. There was a good song playing before that, Atlantic Star – Always, gotta love the line “girl you are to me all a woman should be”. One of the Rodrick’s tricks to easy life was definitely true, the one with lowering parent’s expectations, though I won’t recommend it. The poop part was hilarious as well.

So, I think I liked the movie, I remember sitting on my chair, laying still and remembering my childhood, I would give anything to go back, but somethings are not meant to be, that’s why they say, “Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose“.

From RANDOM to RHYME

It’s decremental, it is, you will see.
I wish to explicate an observable beauty.

In a house, began my life, contemporary,
clustered with people, eating brownie,
non-complicated, and I was taught
lessons of life. I invariably bought,
curiosity was, questioning I did, most times,
they answered too, and so the frequent climbs.
I believed, for trust was larger-than-life,
not that I understood “what was life?”
but those first steps in school, sometime
I feel I had moved from random to rhyme.

It’s decremental, it is, you will see.
I wish to explicate, an observable beauty.

In school, associations grew, and new
knowledge cluttered over existing value.
A walk in NEW unfolded variables,
I resonated with yes, for I trusted all angles,
But life as we know it, was not up for hide,
color it revealed, I denied, but it kept aside
morality, truth it showered, “yes, I was lied”,
trust, my innocence, that day “died”.
Conscious stammered, I reviewed my crime,
realizing life had moved from random to rhyme.

It’s decremental, it is, didn’t you see?
I wish to explicate, an untold agony.

In life, started happening, contemplating,
caution grew paramount. It’s truth or acting?
Layered knowledge tampered, who to blame,
questioning all, life never remained the same.
Who knew, random was just scattered ties,
of placed, known and untested allies.
Who knew, rhyme wasn’t just a poetic tool,
but to sing along this manipulative solicit pool.
So, was changed, learned to not trust a dime,
with adjustment moved, from random to rhyme.

It’s decremental, placing trust, you see,
losing as aging. So, cerebrating, to seek some for me.

Note
The poem is on trust, how we lose it as we grow, remember childhood, how we believed everything and everyone, and now, when we meet people, it takes time, a lot of time, and sometimes even after the endless time we are left guessing.

Taking cue from a Child

The poem is written for Friday Poetically. Topic – “A Poem with a child or a youth”.

I don’t know if I have helped, but I have spent time with many kids, many of my cousins. I think many of us, being adults seem to see “us helping them grow”, but the poem I want to share is about “they helping us better”.

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When around one,
innocence resides in heart,
pleasures are only
branded with smiles,
decisions don’t weight
profits, but felicity,
convincing appears challenging,
inviting patience,
tricks by me appeal,
compelled, their visage
avers it magic,
I recognize pureness,
molded can be, imitating,
I recognize responsibility,
a year past teenage, don’t possess wisdom,
but, I think I am improving,
taking cue from a child.

Son to Mother, Happy Mother’s Day

The poem below is dedicated to my mother, she resides in Bhopal, India while I am studying in Gwalior.

 

She is the rhyme of my poetic life, artist who recognized me for good, my eyes to know the unknown. She is an extraordinary women, this is to you “Mummy”.


The divine rhyme of a verse,
an artist’s oculus rigid to the adverse,
the eyes to comprehend the incognizant,
her impressions remain salient every single moment.

The journey that I claimed,
investment she channeled returns
unclaimed,
the love she endowed is visceral,
exclaiming I am, ‘she to me is an exceptional person.

Being away, I miss the reminders, not fond though,
scolding over messed up room, spilled coco,
pecking over the uneaten food gone cold,
and here comes the fast driving, behold!

The fuss you put up with is respectful,
that you care so much drives heart cheerful,
a sociable person with generosity you are,
accorded to you our family relatives stretch far, very far.

“Good bye dear”, you called for me that night,
as I settled in the hostels, for future bright,
tears shedding from your eyes, mine buzzed off too,
as I bid adieu to my home town taking life’s cue.

The life for its most parts is uncertain,
only your being in it is fairly certain,
forgive me, if I fell short to show my love,
the bond we share is not bound to the lines above.