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Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Sketch of a small car
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Saturday, July 14, 2007
Photograph of the week - People
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Lovely cuddle
The original image, shown on the left, is cropped from left to remove the red sweater sleeve. The lines are shown to indicate the possibility of application of the rule of 3rd. Thus the image is cropped proportionaltely from other sides. The contrast and brightness is increased to get a better effect. The final image is displayed on the right side.
The more information about the photograph including EXIF data and place where the photo was taken is shown on flickr.com besides the photograph. You need to log-in to flickr.com for the same.
Full size image
What is EXIF data?
Friday, July 13, 2007
Authorship by Rabindranath Tagore
You say that father writes a lot of books,
but what he writes I don't understand.
He was reading to you all the evening,
but could you really make out what he meant?
What nice stories, mother, you can tell us!
Why can't father write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother
stories of giants and fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath
you have to go and call him an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him,
but he goes on writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If I ever go to play in father's room,
you come and call me,"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say,
"Don't you see that father's at his work?"
What is the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil
and write upon his book just as he does, -
a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i, - why do you get cross
with me then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wates heaps and heaps of papers,
mother, you don't seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to make a boat with,
you say, "Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and
sheets of paper with black marks all over on both sides?
(Courtesy: http://www.indolink.com/)
but what he writes I don't understand.
He was reading to you all the evening,
but could you really make out what he meant?
What nice stories, mother, you can tell us!
Why can't father write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother
stories of giants and fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath
you have to go and call him an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him,
but he goes on writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If I ever go to play in father's room,
you come and call me,"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say,
"Don't you see that father's at his work?"
What is the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil
and write upon his book just as he does, -
a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i, - why do you get cross
with me then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wates heaps and heaps of papers,
mother, you don't seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to make a boat with,
you say, "Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and
sheets of paper with black marks all over on both sides?
(Courtesy: http://www.indolink.com/)
Thursday, July 12, 2007
रात अकेली थी
दिया बुझ गया था
कोई आ के कानों में मेरे
जो भी चाहे
कह रहा था...
धरती सो रही थी
आसमां सो रहा था
हर डगर सो रही थी
हर गली सो रही थी
हर सेहेर सो रहा था
मेहमां सो रहे थे
मेजबां सो रहे थे
चोर सो रहे थे
पुलीस सो रही थी
वही नहीं, सरकार भी सो रही थी
बैल सो रहे थे
गाडी सो रही थी
बिल्ली सो रही थी
चुहे सो रहे थे और
कुत्ता भी सो रहा था
फूला चमन सो रहा था
उजडा चमन सो रहा था
ये सो रहे थे
वो सो रहे थे
सब सो रहे थे
हम खूशनसीब थे
के हम भी सो रहे थे
तब महसूस हुआ कि
रात अकेली थी
दिया बुझ गया था
कोई आ के कानों में मेरे
जो भी चाहे
कह रहा था...
***
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