Nutu is going out to play with Feroz while his mind was teeming with some
ill-conceived and unbaked ideas as he was asked by his father to fix this old broken scooter which his father nicked from outside the Pintu Dhaba. Nutu is studying in the 8th standard and knows that it is a stolen property and that he should inform the local police about it. But his father taught him otherwise. He taught him how to steal and how not to be law abiding citizen.
His father calls stealing and nicking "Khel"!
This picture is shot in a village near Bheemili. He was actually waiting rain to come as clouds started coming on to the sea..
The day, men in blue won the World Cup, my father became their ultimate fan. I was born on the same day and he named me Sachin.
His love for the men in blue went so deep that he transformed everything into blue. The house, scooter and everything.
He couldn't wait to see me wear the blue jersey, so he enrolled me for cricket coaching.
I loved Roger Federer and tennis was my passion.
What choice do I have?
Cricket or tennis?.
We had a privileged life. We had a nice house, my parents and I made it a home, scooter which gave us joyful rides. But one natural disaster turned into nightmare for us.The collateral damage it brought was devastating, making my home look like concrete box with no power supply, joyride vehicle transformed into scrap. My parents starved for days so that I could eat, eventually losing their life, but in their last moment taught me the lesson by handing me white ball, that life is like a ball, you need to bounce back again and again because itâ€™s precious..
He walked up to where his house used to be. A slum cluster rose surrounding it, masking it's appearance; how could one make out, his quaint little house amid the lot.
Good lord it was gutted yesterday, one cylinder blast after another. That's not all, a huge residential area had sprung up, in the vicinity, the very place where there were some shrubs and agricultural land.
He was lucky that he wasn't present during the time of the mishap. He gingerly took his belongings, including a rickety old scooter from his former dwelling, the chawl..
â€œSchools are re-opening today! Rush fast or you will get lateâ€
â€œYes Amma, goingâ€
I was happy today as again I could sell school stationary near the school ground to feed my family.
At 3 PM I see everyone on ground playing cricket. I too wanted to be one of them. Dreams are not priority perhaps.
There came this cricket ball again for 3rd time. Something ignited me, I picked it up and ran.
Ran to fulfill my dream at least for a day..
Raju is a Seam Bowler. He lives in this bleak neighborhood with squalor and junk around. An open electrical box under a garbage-laden ledge is inviting a catastrophe. A staircase leads to a cramped 'Kholi'. He sleeps in the dingy attic. He works with his Scrap Dealer Uncle, hardly finds study time. He had landed in the City of Gold- Mumbai, agog with excitement. Malls, hustling-bustling roads, hurrying-scurrying crowd. He had seen SRK's poster and dreamt to make it big in sapno ki nagri. Reality hit him hard upon reaching home. Nevertheless, he hasn't lost Hope..
The dust accumulated with a strong will, creating home on the floors of his abode. The broken scooter whispered the silent negligent truth of their financial condition. The garbage bin had everything but peels of vegetables. He roamed with ball clutched in his hand, a dream he doesn't want to let go. The walls wore a shade of blue, a blue that didn't soothe your soul. A shabby stairway took him to the place he called home, a stairway to his heaven; he would say. .
In that 50-storey building, he was sitting comfortably in his luxurious cabin and reading newspaper. Suddenly his eyes got stuck, his hometown has been encapsulated by natureâ€™s exhaustion. He was flooded up with sinking voices and empty films, voices full of cloudburst, breakage of lives, drowning souls, that uncertain rainfall hadnâ€™t left a single mark of continuity; everything had merged into nothing. When everyone was rescheduling their lives by collecting possessions, he spent his left-over money on books.
After 20 years. history has been repeating itself. He was here, signing a cheque for flood victims, No kid should be left Bookless.
"No and I won't say it again son."
"But dad, this is what I am really good at. At least let me give a try. You and mother deserve a better life than working as manual scavengers."
Tears rolled down the unyielding father's eyes. He went close to his son and hugged him for the first time. Vasu felt proud as a father to see his son so sensible and mature at that tender age.
It was like a dream for Gopal who walked away determined and confident of making it to the under 14 state cricket team.
For a village that sees more rain than sunshine, a disaster in the form of rains was unpredicted. Atul's neighbourhood was ransacked by the rains and the casualties were more this time. For the first time in life, he despised the rains. He couldn't find a friend to play with, he couldn't even see many people around. His father got a job in the city; his family was moving out of this wreckage forever and that broke him. He is going to miss his friends and the rains even more..
It had been a great day. He was able to connect every delivery. His flight and slow deliveries were unbeatable. To lead a team at that age, people saw a lot of promise in him.
That tired but triumphant walk, reminded me of myself. I no longer had the stamina. I was rusty and hadn't played for years. These days, I clicked pictures. The blues were mesmerizing, the subject was spot on. It was a perfect image.
I cast a lazy glance at the frame that hung on the wall, and went back to finalizing the consolidated financials.