Discover the Writer in You

Why Do We Lose It?  Life is all about arriving at a balance. Basically, between excesses. And we miss the balance because of misplaced priorities. One of my friends recently suffered a heart attack. He shared with me later that he was so trapped in his hectic office routine that he could barely find time for a walk or even a coffee break. And whenever he did manage, he was overcome by a huge feeling of guilt. As if he was committing a crime. Doing something for himself was just unthinkable for him. It was almost unholy. Going to bed late, smoking non-stop, living with a mobile all the time and stressed out even in his dreams! That was his life. Then one day, around 4 in the morning, he heard a loud knock at his door. Who could be this? He got up and hit the floor like a stone. There was nobody at the door. It was his own heart pumping furiously against his ribs. Next, he found himself inside an ICU with scores of plastic tubes jutting in and out of his body. Finally, he wa...

  H e was going to meet her after six years. ‘How does she look now?’ He peeped out of the glass window. Green fields, trees, people – everything slipped by except a flock of white cranes which kept pace with the speeding bus. A fair, pretty girl with a dimple on her chin, smiled back at him from among the distant clouds and disappeared.   His mind traveled back to an old, small town, a secluded rooftop, a young girl feeding a boy with her tiny hands. His mother had died while giving birth to him. His father, a school teacher, could not cope up with this loss and moved into a shell. Richa was the only hope in his otherwise lonely life. A neighbor’s daughter, she clicked well with him. Maybe, she understood him better than he did. They studied in the same school, later moved to the same college. But soon, they parted ways. That was when he realized how much he loved her. But he lacked the courage to tell her. Though, one day, he had come very close.   Th...

.Those Mysterious Eyes. Definition A screenplay is a blue print for production of a film. It contains all the necessary instructions for shooting a movie including dialogue and action. Whether a scene is to be filmed indoors or outdoors, whether it is daytime or night time, whether you are inside a bar or a farm house - all this and much more goes into the making of a script. You also need to include appropriate instruction for sound and lighting as also for closing and opening of scenes. Typically, one page of a script equals to one minute of shooting. So, 90 pages of a script yield around the same length of a movie.  However, the above technicalities do not undermine the sheer appeal of a screenplay as a piece of creative writing. If you happen to read the screenplay of The Sixth Sense (1999) by M. Night Shyamalan, such is the magnetism that you can’t put it down before finishing it. To put it simply, a screenplay must be a great reading experience as well apart from the fact t...

मौसम  मौसम सुहाना ये मौसम यादों में तेरी  खो गए हम यादों में तेरी  खो गए हम रंगों में कैसे बिखरा फ़ूलों में कैसे निखरा  तेरी अदाओं का  बादल सुनहरा तेरी अदाओं का बादल सुनहरा मौसम सुहाना ये मौसम यादों में तेरी खो गए हम खुशबू जो तेरी आए सासों में समा जाए एह्सास तेरा  ईमान मेरा एह्सास तेरा ईमान मेरा मौसम सुहाना ये मौसम यादों में तेरी खो गए हम मंजर बदल जाते हैं रिश्ते भी धुल जाते हैं लेकिन ना बदला अंदाज़ तेरा लेकिन ना बदला अंदाज़ तेरा मौसम सुहाना ये मौसम यादों में तेरी खो गए हम चलते चलते जानम जलते बुझते हर पल देखो कहां तक  आ गए हम देखो कहां तक आ गए हम मौसम सुहाना ये मौसम यादों में तेरी खो गए हम मौसम सुहाना ये मौसम यादों में तेरी खो गए हम यादों में तेरी खो गए हम राही न मुझे कुछ  पाना है न कहीं मुझे जाना है जहां पे मैं रुक जाऊँ  वही मेरा ठिकाना है राही मैं बस इक राही हूँ  राही मैं बस इक राही हूँ     ज़िन्दगी के खेलों में रंग यूं बदलते हैं होंठ जब हँसते हैं आंसू भिगोते हैं उजाले अंधेरों के साए से डरते हैं फ़िर भी लहरा...

  She strolled leisurely in the garden with his daughter, laughing merrily. Her tanned skin glowed in the afternoon sun.  He watched her quietly from the corner window of his bedroom.  As he saw them entering the house, he hurried downstairs and sank into the plush drawing room sofa, burying his nose into the newspaper. Shalu came flying up to him, shouting ‘Hello Papa’ all the way and hugged him lovingly.   ‘So, how was your tuition?’ he asked tenderly. ‘It was good but physics is a hard nut to crack.’ ‘And what about you?’ he probed as he turned towards her. Amazed that such a silly question could be put to her, she raised her eyebrows and remarked casually, ‘With a little help from Shalu, I think I can sail through.’ She had been visiting them for the past few weeks now and always addressed him directly without uncle-ing or sir-ing him. Shalu butted in. ‘We can go through the next chapter if you like.’ ‘Sure.’ Somebody rang the doorbell. ...