Thursday 15 December 2011
Sunday 23 October 2011
COLOURS AND THEIR SYNONYMS
SOME COLOURFUL THOUGHTS
Our Writers' club has a page on Facebook called 'Writestuff Writing Club. Here some of the 185 members regularly post their thoughts, poems and short stories.
On one occasion I asked them to mention five synonyms for the colour RED. Sushma Mehta Shah compared red to an angry face, fire, autumn leaves, and the traditional red wedding saree. Priya Sanghvi Madhavdas said that the colour red reminded her of Flushed Cheeks 2) Wine 3) Cherries or Tomatoes 4) Danger....as in when you see red 5) The status of a married woman....her Sindoor . Chaitali Shah said that Red stood for: Heart, Signal, Cross, Fire Brigade, BEST Buses in Mumbai. 18 year old Hina Thadani said that Red made her think of :Blood, Apples, Tail light of vehicles, Ruby and Wine. Phorum Pandya's red: blushing cheeks, mahableshwar strawberries, teary eyes, oozing blood after misusing the kitchen knife. And here's Aanchal Shetty's Red: 1) the colour I see when I shut my eyes in broad daylight, 2) sindoor that is applied by and to all married bengali women during sindoor khela, 3) red lips and talons of a sharp corporate dresser. 4) red carpet with actress in deep red gowns hugging their perfect figures, 5) autumn leaves.
Next we had a go at the colour BLUE.
Aanchal Shetty saw Blue in: 1) the Ashok Chakra in our flag, 2) the bottle of Camel Ink, 3) the ink stain on fingers and white uniform (that I wore with pride as it denoted our transition from primary to secondary section), 4) the ocean with its azure waters that beckons one to leave the safety of the shore and venture into the unknown, 5) the ink blue sky sprinkled with stars that hold the promise of sweet dreams and lull me to sleep .Swapna Redij sang the blues of the Blue sea at Somnath, Blue waters of the Narmada, Blue mountains, Blue sky in Ladakh, Blue ink, Blue eyes, Bluebells, Blueberries, Films like Blue, Avatar and Saawariya, The Blue Nile, Blue Gods (Ram, Krishna), She continued by going blue in the face, blue heavens, colours navy blue, sky blue, royal blue; blues singer . To Phorum Pandya blue meant: Camlin pastel paint bottle, peacock's feather, Krishna, Blue Frog, the nightclub, deep sea water and sadly, also heart ache.
Sunday 31 July 2011
The Deluge - memories of 26th July 2005
Dirty water everywhere
We watched, at first in fascination, then trepidation, as the water steadily crept into the building compound, then slowly seeped into our house. Frantically we tried to remove everything from the ground level of the first room into the next room. A feeling of helplessness gave way to horror as we watched the clear water grow murky because of the gutter water now seeping into the rooms at the back from the kitchen and toilet.
My younger son and I emptied the lower shelves of the cupboard, which contained clothes, books etc and dumped them on the bed. Surely the water would not rise so high! But we were wrong. The flood had started around 3 pm and by 7 pm we were standing in knee-deep water. Our one year old Hyundai Accent in the compound was now covered with water up to the headlights. The plants we had purchased from the Green Grower nursery in Bandra were still in the car. The fish we purchased for the aquarium in the office were still in the plastic bag in the house. We put the bag in a bucket of water but as the water rose, the bag moved out and joined the medley flotsam of newspapers, buckets, mugs, slippers, mats, bottle caps, worms and cockroaches.
By 9 pm the water level had reached the mattresses on the bed and the sofa-cum-bed. All the clothes and other things we kept on the bed were slowly getting wet. The neighbours called us upstairs to share a meal but we hesitated – still waiting for the water to come down so that we could make our way to Colaba, or at least Mahim, where we could spend the night, but it was not to be. Finally at about 10 pm we went up to the first floor and had dinner prepared by our neighbours.
Our neighbours gave us mats to sleep on but we were restless. At about 11.30 pm the water had reached the electric meters in the meter room on the ground floor and suddenly the lights went out. With the help of torches we kept looking out at the water level but looking didn’t help at all. The water kept rising higher and higher. Now we could only see the tops of our cars in the compound. The scooters and bikes were already buried in the pool of water.
Calls kept coming in on the one mobile with us that was still in use (my BPL phone was out of service). We learnt that one sister-in-law was stuck in her office at Malad. My brother-in-law went to pick his niece who was stranded in the school bus. He finally picked her up at 10.30 pm. My other sister-in-law was stranded near the Siddhi Vinayak Temple
Friday 1 July 2011
Why do you Write?
In an essay titled ‘Why I write’ George Orwell of ‘Animal Farm’ fame had this to say about his journey as a writer.
I write because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing. But I could not do the work of writing a book, or even a long magazine article, if it were not also an aesthetic experience. Anyone who cares to examine my work will see that even when it is downright propaganda it contains much that a full-time politician would consider irrelevant. I am not able, and do not want, completely to abandon the world view that I acquired in childhood.
Joan Didion – author of ‘the year of Magical Thinking’ says that a writer is a person whose most absorbed and passionate hours are spent arranging words on pieces of paper. I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.
‘Why do you write?’ I asked the members of the Writestuff Writing Club. Here are some of the responses
Phorum Pandya
It was a rainy Saturday morning. “Don’t go to work today,” my boyfriend suggested. Who’s going to work, I thought to myself. I’m going to write, I smiled, to myself . “It’s production day, it’s the day we put the edition to bed and I HAVE to go,” I answered.
“So you won’t change your mind?” he asked.
I picked up my backpack, put on my windcheater and opened my umbrella, before stepping into the rain.
Writing is my shadow. Sometimes, when a creative block strikes, I detest writing. But it stalks me. The more I run away from writing, the more it creeps into my system…
Investigative reporter J Dey was shot dead on June 11, 2011.
His fault (according to the underworld) – was that he wrote. Truthful reports. And two books. About the underworld.
Would he have changed his profession if he knew this day awaited him? I doubt.
He was the first reporter whose copy I was given to edit. As a cub editor, I often stammered while asking him questions. While subbing one report, I had called him five times in ten minutes. The sixth time, I apologised.
“You can call me a hundred times. I understand,” his voice smiled through the telephone.
That’s all it took to look up to this senior reporter with pride and respect.
To me, he was a like the Big Friendly Giant (BFG) from Roald Dahl’s book with the same title.
At this moment, news channels are flashing reports about his death. Five bullets were reportedly pumped into his body in broad daylight.
Not many know he started out has an environment reporter before switching to crime. He loved plants and animals, and had the friendliest smile ever.
I never met him again after I quit MiD DAY in 2009. But, he came to my mind often. Sometimes, when I read his bylines and sometimes for all the ‘underworld’ stories he had narrated while we sipped chai in the office canteen.
You will be remembered, BFG.
…………..
I write, for it is my fate and my destiny.
I write. That’s all I know.
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Phorum Pandya writes for Hindustan Times
Friday 10 June 2011
It’s that time of the year again. Schools and colleges re-open and so do the heavens. Some people look forward to the rains which bring a respite from the summer’s searing heat and for others rainy days and Mondays always makes them gloomy. For those out-of-towners traveling in Mumbai can be quite an experience. Avinash, who’s from Hyderabad and Lorraine who hails from Goa share their experiences.
‘Commuting’ - by Avinash Agarwal.
For a person staying in the ruthless city of Mumbai, this is second nature. Millions of pushing-shoving-sweating-stinking-irritable commuters on this city’s rails and roads have given a new meaning to the word. It has lost its charm and become a daily battle, with nothing glorifying about it.
But there’s a reason people say, “Enjoy the journey, not the destination” and “When you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”. Fuse the two sayings together and you’ll see, there’s simply no way out! You might as well enjoy the commute while you commute.
Commuting is much more than just getting from place to place. It’s more than a mechanical activity involving 2 or 4 (or more) wheels. It’s the green and blue and vividly colored blurs on the way, as you look out the window. It’s that evergreen track the radio station surprises you with, in the midst of their daily buffet of advertisements. It’s the touch of that soft hand when you are dawdling in the name of walking, not really headed in any direction. It’s that feeling of wanting to go someplace and reaching the crossroads, then realizing that your destination is called ‘right here, right now’.
Enjoy the commute!
Commuting – by Lorraine Fernandes
I remember my first train ride in Mumbai. I was SO kicked!
I had come from Goa, where all you get is rickety buses that take ages to reach your destination. And now, I was travelling in this marvelous system!
My profile picture that week was of the logo of the ladies compartment.
For a long time I’d stand at the door and feeling so inspired. I’d watch the different women and wonder about their lives
I think my excitement about the Mumbai train network died a heroic death when I unknowingly travelled by a Virar fast. It was the monsoons and I was in one of those old trains that do not forewarn you about the next stop.
When I finally made it to the door after pushing, shoving and hitting, I got onto the platform with the crowd. It was a magical, out of body experience. I was levitating; My feet were three inches above ground and I was moving! Then, suddenly, as if bursting a bubble, the crowd dispersed and I was brought down to my feet. Thump.
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Would you like to make your Answering Machine Recordings more interesting? Maybe you could consider these unusual ones contributed by Avinash and Lorraine.
· “I was waiting all week. And NOW you call?! BAD TIMING!”
· “Osama is NOT DEAD. It’s all a Top-secret US conspiracy. Your phone shall self destruct after the beep. RUN for your life!”
· “I wish I could take this call. But I don’t want to. I’ve got better things to do”
· “EEEW! Your breath smells NASTY! Even over the wire. Please brush after the beep”
· “This is the first telephone set ever invented. It even has Graham Bell’s fingerprints on it. What you say could rewrite history. Choose your next words carefully”
· “You can wait for the beep. Or you can SHUT UP now. There’s a reason I didn’t take this call”
· “Hi. You’ve dialed a wrong number. Please disconnect and redial”
Hi, I’d like to order a large pizza. Pepperoni and extra cheese.
Your telephone is going to explode in 3,2,1…*beep*
GET OUT OF MY LIFE, AND NEVER CALL ME AGAIN! You mother *beep*
No, I’m not out. I’m actually at home sitting next to the phone. I just like to screen people before I actually pick up the phone.
This is a test; if I pick up the phone I like you.
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Friday 6 May 2011
In a previous post I mentioned ‘freewriting’ and how it can be used as a tool to overcome writers’ block. You can freewrite with a theme or just start scribbling away with whatever thought grabs you at that moment. Sometimes we put down random, fleeting thoughts. Sometimes it just flows as smoothly as a fresh rain-fed river, like the following piece by Avinash Agarwal. The theme was ‘Earthquake.’
: Free Writing
Earthquake: Mother Nature’s way of getting back with a punishment, hitting hard with a vengeance. After all, could there be any other befitting answer for all the millions of trees cut down every second, animals hunted to a ruthless extinction and every other face of nature annihilated until nothing but ashes remain.
One deep gash along the crust of Mother Earth’s surface- it is ironic to see how fragile and powerless those carefully measured, constructed, man-made monuments now appear- building collapsing flimsily like a pack of cheap cards, wood-metal-brick alloys crashing down to the ground like burnt matchsticks and human bodies strewn all around in a heap of litter.
However, this is just the beginning; the beginning of the end. The future generations will one day ask of us furiously, meeting eye to eye, whether we really had the right to fool around with the inheritance that was rightfully theirs. Were we not solely responsible for carrying, sheltering and passing on this legacy called Mother Earth into their hands in the same, if not a better condition that we received it in?
Man is ‘supposedly’ the smartest of the beasts. At least one part of the statement is true- he’s proved that, ultimately, that’s what he is. A beast, with the same characteristic lust, hunger, anger, greed and mindless mind…
And here’s Lorraine Fernandes’ view on the same topic
Lor Earthquake. Book. Crash. Pow. Mmmm, makes me think of the batman comic strips I’d read as a kid. Okay, maybe it wasn’t batman (did batman go boom, crash or pow?). must be some Sunday morning cartoon? It’s been a long while, I cant seem to remember.
But earthquakes, yes, sad thing that recently happened to Japan. I remember when I was a kid, I would wish some calamity would hit my hometown. Just because the thought of being rescued by a helicopter was cool. The immensity of the situation obviously never hit a five year olds mind.
It still doesn’t actually. I know how bad japan’s been hit. But other that the news of it, I am not moved much. No pity, no genuine sadness. Nothing.
I often wonder how I have come to be so numb of such news. Perhaps its because its japan...a country so far away! But a couple of years ago when Mumbai was hit with its worst flood or even it’s terrorist attacks, I wasn’t moved. Wasn’t it happening it the same country? One state away, so close by!
But still no, nothing, zilch.
Proverbs
In this exercise you take the first half of well known proverbs and add your own words to complete it. This is what Avinash came up with.
1. People in glass houses shouldn’t- change clothes in there
2. Better to be safe than- take mad risks. But then, how will you ever have fun?
3. Strike while the- going gets tough
4. It’s always darkest before- the brightest tinge of light appears
5. Never underestimate the power of- a dream
6. You can lead a horse to the water but- you can also bring it a bucketful in the stable
7. Don’t bite the hand that- hasn’t been washed
8. No news is- a nail biting experience
9. A miss is as good as- a near failure
10. You can’t teach an old dog- the joy of being a puppy
11. If you lie down with dogs, you- are likely to get run over by a tyre
12. Love all, trust- yourself
13. The pen is mightier than the-mouth with the tendency to verbal vomit
14. An idle mind is-a happy, stress-free mind
15. Where there is smoke, there is-a fire burning itself you
16. Happy is the bride who- has her husband’s credit card
17. A penny saved is- a smart move
18. Two is company, three is-a joint venture
19. None are so blind as-those without vision
20. If at first you don’t succeed-it doesn’t mean you never will
21. You get out of something what you- really want
22. When the blind lead the blind-they all end up at the same place
23. There is no fool like- the man who thinks he is the greatest gift to mankind
Avinash Agarwal and Lorraine Fernandes are copywriters for Shobiz Experiential Communications
Thursday 7 April 2011
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| The new Gandhi font developed by Leo Burnett Advertising. |
Writing with the five senses gives your story or article depth. Sensory details make your story come alive. Try looking at the sun, a tree, a flower or even a leaf and describe it using your five senses.
Here are three samples of descriptive writing written by my ex-students who are also members of the ‘Writestuff Writers’ Club.’ The first one is a description of a tree.
Tree-d softly, for you tread on my dreams - by Phorum Pandya
The sunrays maze their way through his sleepy leaves every morning, as the wind tickles the branches, sending goose bumps down his bark. He tries to catch the wind but she escapes – each time. She calls him an old man. ‘I’ll catch you one day,” he whistles through the rustling leaves.
He loves the summers, for no one can scold him for skipping his bath. He stretches out his branches, and a tiny little pink leaf flutters open.
Like a hammer that hits the nail, a woodpecker’s beak pecks upon his dark, rusty bark. Just what I needed, he smiles to himself, as he beckons it to scratch harder. In minutes, his spa treatment is in full swing: crows twirl their feet around his branches; the cuckoo pokes straws, twigs and wires to make its nest, and the barbets flap about squealing lustily.
Like a hammer that hits the nail, a woodpecker’s beak pecks upon his dark, rusty bark. Just what I needed, he smiles to himself, as he beckons it to scratch harder. In minutes, his spa treatment is in full swing: crows twirl their feet around his branches; the cuckoo pokes straws, twigs and wires to make its nest, and the barbets flap about squealing lustily.
Rolling his tongue on his dry lips, he wriggles his toes. A fresh, cool drink of water from the earth rises up his xylem, quenching his green thirst. He wonders what nutrients the pantry will serve him today. His roots have been the victim of cost-cutting these days. Thank god the rains will be here soon, for he misses the curries and soups.
Noontime, he looks up at the sun, staring right into its face, soaking all the Vitamin D he can. If he does his job well, may be the roots will send something delicious up my phloem, he prays.
He looks down on the ground at his shadow: “I seem to have lost weight,” he announces aloud. Life in the woods is good, in all its seasons - when the winter makes fun of his nakedness and the spring dresses him up like a participant of a queer parade, the rains soak him from head to toe.
He looks around, basking in the happy thought that makes every little thing seems perfect. His gaze falls on the rusty saw - sitting on the shoulder of a woodcutter - laughing at him. He closes his eyes, allowing the beautiful life to lurk just a little longer. The woodcutter stops right in front of him.
Phorum is a Senior Features writer at Hindustan Times.
In the following passage Ahil Amar describes a fresh mint leaf
Light, small like a feather fits in your palm. Smooth like a baby’s cheek yet wrinkly as an old man’s skin.
Take a smell and it fills your lungs with freshness and in you want some more. Besides the lungs it gives a fresh-shot to your brains and it stays there lingering, opens up your mind with one whiff!
Chew it, it’s a mint blast, freshens your mouth and with a gulp you feel the freshness right to your stomach, highlighting every internal organ on it way…
It looks like the map of Mumbai pointing out the roads and the three railway life lines of Mumbai city stretching all the way through the ends of the leaf.
It is green in color, the color of prosperity, the color of money. The color of morning freshness, when you walk in the park and everything feels like and smells like the first rain!
The rustling of its leaves, when attached to the branches, sounds like the waterfall fiercely hitting the rocks a hundred feet below except this is a thousand times softer.
Take a smell and it fills your lungs with freshness and in you want some more. Besides the lungs it gives a fresh-shot to your brains and it stays there lingering, opens up your mind with one whiff!
Chew it, it’s a mint blast, freshens your mouth and with a gulp you feel the freshness right to your stomach, highlighting every internal organ on it way…
It looks like the map of Mumbai pointing out the roads and the three railway life lines of Mumbai city stretching all the way through the ends of the leaf.
It is green in color, the color of prosperity, the color of money. The color of morning freshness, when you walk in the park and everything feels like and smells like the first rain!
The rustling of its leaves, when attached to the branches, sounds like the waterfall fiercely hitting the rocks a hundred feet below except this is a thousand times softer.
Ahil has recently joined FCB Ulka Advertising as a junior copywriter.
Anuradha Iyer describes a mint leaf to a blind friend.
Sandeep, the mint leaf is shaped like a baby’s eye, large and round like a grape, with soft little grooves and a pointed end.
It’s crisscrossed with tender veins that look like your hand with its palms outstretched.
Can you smell the clarifying fragrance of the mint? Crush some of it and inhale the aroma for an instant pick me up, no matter what your mood.
Bite into a crunchy leaf, Sandeep, and let the tingly crisp taste of mint linger on your tastebuds, even as it shoots a pleasant shock to your nervous system.
Sandeep, the softness of its *body* is like a woman’s skin, tender to touch and incredibly soft like the finest silk.
Can you hear the tart sound of a knife slicing through a crisp apple? That’s how the leaves sound when they rustle in the breeze. Crush the tender leaf in your palm and it sounds like a warm soft whisper in the dark.
Anuradha has just finished a course in Advertising and Marketing at XIC.
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Thought for the Day
Close the door. Write with no one looking over your shoulder. Don't try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It's the one and only thing you have to offer - Barbara KingsolverWednesday 16 March 2011
Writing with the Five Senses.
Writing can be one-sided, if you don’t write using your five senses. Use similes and metaphors to make your descriptions vivid. Take different objects and describe them using the five senses. You could use a pebble, a pen, a flower, candy, a fruit, or anything around the house or classroom. You could even describe something that you’ve seen on the television. Take each object and write down at least three words related to each of the five senses.
Here is an interesting description of an apple by Ahil Amar, a student who just finished a course in Advertising and Marketing from XIC (Xavier’s Institute of Communications) in Mumbai.
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I look at this shiny dark red globe that is always depicted in pictures of the Garden of Eden. It reminds me of Adam and Eve when I touch it. It smells as beautiful as the smell in the park at 6am when the grass and the leaves have bathed in the morning dew. The bright red color mixed with a tinge of orange from Mother Nature’s palette gives it life. When you hold it you can’t help but reminisce about the history its been through from Eve to Newton.It gave us an insight into gravity and Steve his Job. It is our best friend, and a Doctor’s worst enemy. A bite into the apple and you hear a crunch like the ball off the middle of Sehwag’s bat and then you hear it echo in your head every time you chew and the juices fill your mouth and take over your senses. One gulp and it urges you for just one more leaving a lingering taste long after its done.
So slice it, dice it, cut it, crush it, peel it, eat it, savor it and put it on your diet list. It’s a faithful friend and a humble servant, a humble servant with its master throughout the year, unlike the king (the mango) who comes to visit his subjects for just three months of the year.
The seeds are like a gun pellet ready to fire up into an apple and destroy all diseases and help build a safer wall of immunity.
Thoughts for The Day:
"Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton was the one who asked why." -- Bernard M. Baruch
"Why not upset the apple cart? If you don't the apples will rot anyway." -- Frank A. Clark
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Tuesday 8 March 2011
Creative Writing, Freewriting
What is Creative Writing? Can it be learnt? I've been asked these questions over and over again. In journalistic writing and report writing you just need to convey basic information but when you need to express your thoughts, feelings and emotions then that's where Creative Writing comes in handy. And yes you can learn to be creative and write creatively. All you need to do is to start.
In the first lesson on Creative Writing, I usually start by talking about the magic of words. Students are encouraged to respond and not be afraid of giving wrong answers or saying something foolish. I usually start by saying "Words are magical. We see them everywhere, you hear them, in fact we're inundated with them and yet I say words are like magic”. Where do we see words? In the library, the newspapers, hoardings about, books, magazines, the internet. We hear words on television, the radio, in the cinema, when we talk to each other, and even in our heads.
And why are words magical? The answers come tumbling out - "Because it helps you to communicate" "you can tell someone your thoughts". Can you make someone feel good with your words? Yes. Can you make someone feel bad by making some remarks? Yes. Can words help you to mask your feelings? Yes. And if your words can be translated you can communicate with the whole world, books that you write can be read by the future generations just as we are able to read the works of great writers and poets of the past.
Freewriting
Freewriting is a great tool to help overcome writers’ block. You could compare this to brainstorming. This is something that can be done everyday, particularly when you’re in a writing slump. This is a great exercise to help you declutter your mind and release your creativity. You can start writing about anything. The main thing is to write continuously without lifting the pen off the paper. Put all your thoughts down, even random ones and pay no attention to grammar, or sentence structure, punctuation etc.
You can freewrite for five to fifteen minutes. You can use a word as a prompt or a picture or even a song lyric. Keep a timer and keep writing until the buzzer goes off. Freewriting can also help you at an emotional level. Feeling low, depressed, angry, ashamed? Freewrite about it and release the demons. If you can’t find pen and paper you could try typing it out.
Those who’ve never tried freewriting will find it a little strange at first. Try it at least a couple of times during the week for about five to ten minutes each time. Keep writing every day, even if it’s just one page at a time. Let me know what the experience was like.
The Secret of Happiness
Words are magical, oh yes I’ve already said that right? But do you know that the secret of happiness lies in the following eight words? Oops the words are jumbled up. Here they are:
Tomorrow - Today - Live - For - Better - Working - A – While
If you figure it out (it’s quite easy) then let me know.
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Thought for the Day:
I write when I'm inspired, and I see to it that I'm inspired at nine o'clock every morning.' Peter De Vries).
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