Faces

It's been a long time since I last drew; my familiar inconsistency is returning. That's wierdly comforting though!

I honestly didn't have any clue about what to call this one, and out of pure lack of a better choice, I call it "Faces".

Photographs

Two photographs, the first one of my eye (taken by my friend), and the second one of my friend (taken by me).

In the world of Bill Gates, there is no place for Shakespeare anymore.

That was the topic I chose to write a 1000 word essay on, in an "essay writing competition" in school. I wouldn't have participated myself, but someone recommended my name, and the teacher in charge specially asked me to do so, and so I agreed.

Since childhood I have heard that the "technique" behind writing a good essay is to first list your ideas and then structure them according a format, and then reproduce that on paper. Bullshit, I used to think. Never did I do so either. Essays meant nothing to me, and I just wrote them when forced to, like in an exam, or an assignment in class. 

To be continued ...

Yester-nights work. I'm getting quite unusually consistent! Scary! I call this one ... nothing yet.

Last night's work. I haven't named it yet. 

Today's works.

I'd read a book by J.D.Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye, and his writing really blew me off! So, obviously, I tried writing like that! I don't know what it's like, but its a start. Here's the attempt -

When I was born, they decided to call me Rajarshi. Frankly, I don't really know what was wrong with them because I couldn't have thought of something shittier if I was paid for it.

So I lived through 17 years of this shit I'm supposed to call life. I mean I aint the kinda guy who sits on his terrace thinking about philosophy and shit, but life's such a fucked up thing, that its quite an interesting thing when you compare them. 

Music is good. Its been my loyal partner all through. Ya fine, maybe sometimes my iPod conks out and I'm stranded with nothing to jam to, but its never left my side really. All that Beatles shit kinda makes me wonder at times, so all these pricks, that my granddad would call his "good old homeboys", actually went gaga over this bunch of four gay pricks without like a ounce worth of style in them! Pink Floyd, ya now THATS whats worth listening to. You can swim in and outta their songs, till you wanna swim no more ... and drown in it ... just drown. 

Whatever, YOU probably won't even understand what shit I'm talking about, coz you never had the balls to try pushing coke or rolling a joint. All you people out there are a bunch of fucking zombies. All you pricks see is work, profit and all that shit. I don't get what life without a high is. Anyway, fuck it, why waste talking sense to you senseless shits.

[ I'm done for now!]

Teacup painting

I wanted to draw something to start the comeback of the artist in me, so I randomly drew a teacup. 

It looks nice. The perspectives are fucked up, but I wasn't that serious when drawing this. A proper painting will be made, along these lines, someday soon.

Then I randomly felt like drawing a cartoon, and drew this - "a curious kid" - 

Looks like I'm coming back soon!

Me and MS Paint

A few of the drawings I used to do on MS Paint. I used to have so much time to jsut sit and draw. Where's it all gone ?

This one's titled "Captivity" as you can see. I love the expression in his eyes the most.

"Dance"

"Down on one knee"

"Undead Couple"

"The look"

The Muscleman

My name is ... ?

A shaded face. I did this using nothing but the Airbrush tool in MS Paint. 

The previous picture, after a retouching in photoshop.

A skull

Deadly Love

Split Personality

I don't find the time anymore. I need to get back here. I'll be out with more of this soon.

Today I felt what it feels like to let oneself go completely. I was sitting with one of the people I most admire and respect, when he told me to write 5 random sentences. I tried my hand at it and produced 5 sickly stereotypical pieces of shit. Then he wrote 5 random sentences, which seemed to speaking to me right out of the page. Then he told me to let myself go. He touched my "deeper self" as he calls it. I just felt strange. Happy, but strangely so. Then again I took the pen and just let it write down whatever I thought. Turns out, those 8 or 9 sentences I wrote (spontaneously, no thinking or anything) , were actually good sentences, which was my "deeper self" speaking. They were more fun to read anyhow. 

The cenversation(writing included) went this way -

He : Write 5 random sentences.

Me: "The white teacup on the brown table, sidelit by the diffused light coming through the  window, is a perfect subject for a black and white photo."

He: "A white teacup. A brown wood table. Diffused light. I wish I could take a black and white  photo of this."

...

...

Finally, my first "let go" line.

There's a bright light coming from outside the window, and its making my pen cast a shadow as I'm writing. 

He says :" Wah, that's a great sentence. A slightly sophisticated reader will understand its full 

          worth. It is your inner self speaking. The words "bright light" , "outside" , "window" , 

  "write" and "pen" are much deeper than you think you intended them to be. Your 

  inner self is signalling through these."

He says : Go , let go completely.

Then came my "let go" outburst paragraph.

He started it off by writing : "Let go of yourself, he says."

Then I went :

" I wonder how he does it. I don't even know what I just did. I had written a sentence, because there was nothing better to write. Thats now become my deeper self talking! Weird. I have deeper selves. What does this mean now ? Let go. How ? I knew there were voices inside me, but why should they only talk when I let go? Why do I have to strive to get them out ?"

He stopped me here. He told me to look at what I had written. He praised me. I felt proud of my writing. I understood what it means to let go. For those few seconds when I wrote those lines, I forgot my surroundings, and everything. I just wrote non-stop, not even thinking. Thats what he calls being in touch with yourself. I'm supposed to do more of this. It feels good, so I'll do it. I believe I just did. I didn't type this post out thinking each sentence through like my last post. This one came naturally. 

Introduction

That's my eye, photographed during a power cut, using a torch, by myself.

Hi, I'm Rajo, a.k.a. Rajarshi Bhattacharjee. I was born on the 14th of May, 1991. I live in a quiet neighborhood in Jadavpur, Kolkata, with my parents, and am an only child. Despite that, I was never spoilt.

I wish I had a dog.

My high school "education" takes place at St.James' School, Kolkata. I'm a student in the 11th standard and my curriculum requires me to study English, Math, Science, Hindi and Environmental Education. 

Outside my curriculum, I enjoy learning and playing with Math and Physics. Most of my leisure time finds me dreaming about Math. 

I play rugby. I also play basketball.

I love to draw and listen to music. They bring me the most pleasure and relief among my multifaceted interests and pursuits. 

I'm most comfortable being an introverted , intuitive , thinking and perceiving person, at least according to Briggs and Meyers' questionnaire. I'm not much of a believer in these things, but this one analysis matches my real self to an extent beyond coincidence, and a most complete and exact description of me is provided by the article on INTPs by wikipedia.