A painting

I cannot wield a mighty brush, so I take refuge with the mouse. This was done in Photoshop7, using only and only the brush tool, with no fancy effects. So I guess it can be called a painting.

The Road

Updates

There's been some stuff I've done over the last week, which I didn't get time to post. Here they are.

The family

Joy II

Discontent

8 9 10

Condemnation

Flipperoo!

My Year Book Article, untitled as of yet.

Come April, and I’d have spent 10 years in St. James’ as a student, with another year to go till I too, like this preceding batch, shall step beyond the fences of high school into the real world. Now that I’ve been told to write something for the batch’s yearbook, I feel more intensely what it means to be batch, though I’m at a complete loss as to how to entrap through words what my heart feels now; so I’ll take refuge in narrating certain experiences I’ve been gifted in my school life, which I hope shall illuminate to whatever degree what school life has meant to me.

After leaving what was deemed a “sub-standard” school, I joined St. James’ in class 3, and spent my first year as an outcast, friendless due to my alienation from the higher cultural practices like Pokemon Card trading and PS2s and computer gaming and Nickelodeon.

Through classes 4, 5 & 6 I picked up on these and a lot more as I gathered friends, some close and some closer, lost friends, made new ones and slowly assumed my role as a Jacobean. Classes 4 through 9 were a whirlwind of tumultuous and passionate friendships and enmities and the formation of numerous “gangs” such as the ‘jungle-gym-monkeys’ gang or the ‘jocks’ or the ‘cooler nerds’, peppered with brief yet immensely enjoyed friendships with random strangers like Dipayan, Pronoy, Ishan, Madhav, Protim, Anjishnu, Abhishek, Biswaroop, Jason, Jeremy, Vicky and Louis, to be followed later by Arnav, Aaron, Shahrukh, Fusail, Akshay, Dwarkesh, Nikhil, Ritwik, Akshay, Varun and lots more that evade my ebbing memories.

In class 9 and 10 I met some people who would later turn out to be my closest, most trusted and treasured friends. I met Anurag, a shy, immensely talented and the owner of an intellect that is almost the exact match for mine. We have grown, over 4 years, to levels of friendship, if that be the word, which cannot be quantified, or even fathomed. I met Srijon, a happy go lucky boy with a heart of gold, and Arjun, talented and suave, with another heart of gold, two friends who had grown into being a part of myself within an incredibly short span of time, as if we were brothers separated in past lives, waiting to reunite. I rediscovered Tirtha, a friend of class 3, to forge yet another channel of concrete that would bring me immensely fruitful experiences and a constant wall of support. Unobtrusive, and reserved, he’d help me get things that none of the others could. I discovered Akshay, a passionate friend with many faults and many marvels. Our friendship, along with Arnav and Shahrukh was most probably my most tumultuous and marvelous. We went from intimacy to cold wars and everything ended on a rather sad note, with an un-scalable mountain emerging between me and Akshay, equally pushed by both our egos and his faults, and maybe mine as well.

Came eleven, first time round, when my existing bonds grew stronger, Srijon, Arjun, Anurag, Tirtha and Arnav taking up progressively larger parts of my heart, while yet more new connections were made, Shashank, Jatan, Raghav, Samay, some of bloomed more than others. Over the year and eleven second time round, Srijon, Arjun and Anurag became inseparable blocks that were the foundations of my identity as a young, talented, kind-hearted and rebellious idealist who should have been born in the 70’s!

I found a group of people, with whom I could build up an entire Bohemia inside my head, friends dearest to my being, even when completely stripped to its utmost raw core, at moments of ultimate disinhibition. They fed me and ate from me, as we all progressed into being young adults, more ripened than earlier. We learned to respect and enjoy each other, as I fed from them and them from me. Anurag, Jimmy (a senior), Srijon, Arjun, Raghav, Protim, Tirtha and Arnav all entered into the deepest worlds of mine as my first true and deep and beautiful friends. I met others who I wished I’d met earlier, since with equal time they too would be just as dear, such as Harsh (Bansal), Uday, Anjishnu, Suryanil, and many more who again outwit the feeble grasps of my memory.

I was molded in school, by these friendships, and a few treasured gifts of tenderness, protectiveness and care from certain teachers, who I’d never be able to thank to my satisfaction. Ms. Chand, my first class teacher, Mrs. Khambatta, my second and best, Mr. Pope, a friend almost, Mrs. Neogi, the disciplinarian with a golden heart, Mr. Dasgupta, the ideal Master, erudite and elegant, yet not distant or stone-hearted, Mrs. Banerjea, compassionate owner of a soft yet sure guiding hand, and last, and equally far from the least, Mr. Sircar, the teenage genius who never grew up, a master logistician, with a humour to cut, and a contagious curiosity as he pursued his passions, math, crossword, hearts and freecell, and efficient and clever programming with the passion of a youth.

I have always been sure that I’d grow up to be something I’d dreamt of as a child, free of society’s mundane catacombs and with enough resources to live on and enjoy, but this has been enormously boosted by all the things that the school has given me, both treasured and despised, by providing a everlasting nourishment that nothing else could ever provide.

Before nostalgia takes complete hold on me, I’ll end this attempt to give an insight to a part of myself that I owe purely to luck bestowed upon me by some kind spirit somewhere. It is redundant to say that I’d never forget these days or people, and I can honestly expect that none of them would ever forget me, or us.

“This is the end, beautiful friend. This is the End.” ~ Jim Morrison (The Doors)

Another try at Kill Ducks

Another shot at some graphic design. Kill ducks with some useless elements removed:

Kill Ducks II

A step in a different direction.

Today I thought, what if I make a portfolio of my drawings, and just keep it, uselessly? So I decided to make a formal portfolio, using some of my work, like a visual CV or exhibition-like thing. I made a front cover for it, and here it is.

A Front cover

Thank you, friend.

I've always felt ecstatic and amazed when some song, or poem, or any text at all has said exactly what I've been trying to! No one has done this more frequently or accurately, of late, than Lennon. Sadly, it's very futile to try and tell people that these are the exact words I was trying to say, because that is never believed, to whatever degree. But that shouldn't, to any degree, reduce the ecstasy! So, here goes a little tribute, with whatever effort I had, to a friend who came in times of true need, even if his help never materialized. In John I found what I always dreamt of being.

P.S.

I forgot this one. I again tried bringing in text as a graphic element, and experimented with color.

Propaganda

When the freedom was channeled into my hands and fingers.

The first was a thoughtless process, where my subconscious mind controlled my hand without the conscious one interfering. The second was much more thought out, yet not adulterated.

Fear

Eye of the bigger.

Plea

It's actually a few weeks old, I just forgot to put it up.

A Hard Day's Night.

Last night I went to a concert in tribute to the Beatles held in Calcutta Cricket and Football Club grounds, performed by a British band who tour the world doing only Beatles tributes, look like (somewhat), dress like and act exactly (on stage) like the Beatles. I got sufficiently disinhibited before going, knowing there would be enough and more alcohol in venue itself.

Neesha, who loves the Beatles even more than me, had to get herself out of town exactly yesterday, and hence couldn't come along, but I met two very close friends (especially when we're disinhibited), my OBO instructors and lots of random known people, including an ex-school-captain who was emcee-ing the event.

I cannot write out, like this, my experience without turning it into a boring journal entry, so I'll simply quote some of the SMSs I sent as I walked back home, edited and translated to English (from SMS lingo).

"Hey, are you awake? I loved the concert, and missed you as much. It was a tumultuous experience. The sadness when you weren't there to listen to Nowhere Man, the distilled euphoria during Daytripper. Today I realized how much I loved you and the Beatles."

"The guys were really very good. They weren't the Beatles, but pretty damn close! They're called The Beetles, and the 4 guys are actually named after the originals (first names only). They copied the exact voice and (on-stage) behaviour patterns. Voice-wise, Paul was no match for McCartney, George was almost as good as Harrison, but John, I thought, was better than Lennon. Their guitar-ing was exact, Ringo's drumming just as soulful and perfect as the original, n Paul's bass was magical! We all went crazy jumping, singing, laughing, crying, climbing on each others shoulders and singing in the air, having dance offs, but never feeling tired or spent, throughout the 2 hours. I met Mirna, Shreya, Tara and Athena, and stepped on Tara's toes by mistake!"

"They didn't play Norwegian Wood, but they played Nowhere man, With Love from me To You, Daytripper, She Loves You, Hard Days Night, Help, Roll over Beethoven, The Ballad of John and Yoko, This Boy, Do You Wanna Know a Secret, Twist and Shout, Can't buy me love, I should have known Better, and more that I can't remember right now!"