#20: A kind of special species

#20: A kind of special species - Friends...

Writing my next post under Casual category, but I guess, friends can never be categorized casually. So on this friendship day, let’s recall the most uncasual (grammatically a wrong word but it’s irreplaceable with formal.) part of your life, the amazing ghosts of your life… Friends, without whom, your life is worth a ghost house.

It’s really difficult to write on the simplest element of your life. Friends are those with whom you dare to be yourself without any kind of fear. It’s not that I’m promoting here but they are like my friend Mehul’s blog name, ‘Simply Complicative…’ They always claim to protect you after hitting you enough. They insist to solve your problems after creating some for you. They are the ones with whom you love to cry then laughing alone. They are another you… Friends.

It’s again not that I’m promoting here but friends are like my another friend, Darshan’s blog name ‘Neet-Vasant’ and my sis Foram’s blog name ‘FORever blossAM’ too. They keep your life aromatic with aroma of their love, warmth and care. Another consideration is ‘Neet-vasant’ means being in spring forever and ‘FORever blossAM’ also imply the same. Though both have same meaning but origins of names are different for different reasons. Friends are also of same kind. They are used to connote same though they are different beings from different culture or even having different opinions on different matters.

A ship that never sinks is Friendship… I know there are thousands of quotes and stories that identify friendship at its best but I’m giving here some photos that signify the best sense of Friendship as picture always works better than words… (Confessing the truth that I’m also not getting words for such a wonderful feeling that pictures below are easily conveying…)

Thanks for now. Keep reading Random Strokes. - DJ.

Comments

#11: I M D I – Revealed behind the camera…

Under the label of I never criticize..., I’m going to criticize my own film I Might Did It (IMDI here after in the article.) today. A brave attempt it can be said to identify the slack side of own. I won’t say it criticism but actually a kind of confession of what went wrong while the making of the film. At the beginning of pre-productions, IMDI seemed to become a real blockbuster due to its blood-chilling, gripping screenplay, the music was already admired by the listeners and frankly a team, after successful two hits of Midnight Madness and Kuchh Manziley Aisy, was confidently looking forward for its hat trick. But… Difficulties started raining two days prior to shooting schedule when Mansi (Played Ishitaa in Kuchh Manziley Aisy), casted for role of Preeti Sengupta in the film, informed that she won’t be able to attend the shoot at the state when we were already missing Hardik. The screenplay, with no other chances left, was modified on the last night before the shoot started. I...

#16: On the Edge...!

A tough decision, I've taken to write this but... This is where I am right now... On the Edge...! It took 12 years and 4 months to begin the first step towards the destination of my life. In march-1998, my eyes saw a dream, a dream to become a Film Director, a dream of receiving Filmfair award and in reply to that a thanksgiving speech. (that i still murmur all the time, off course with some changes always.) A 13 year old boy had seen the future. Time went on and I started realizing that it's not easy to get in the industry. What to do now to get in? What if I give all the things for what a producer needs to hire many persons. I started composing songs. Stories were my companion since long and I believed (others too..!) that I can dance really well. So I had now story, screenplays and songs written as well as composed, and I can serve as choreographer, cinematographer and as an editor too. My confidence started boosting. I kept doing my work with my studies for next ten years...

#18: Case 9571_Mr. Johnson’s murder

It was raining heavily outside. Night was at its darkest. Sound of raindrops was echoing throughout the ambience except at house no 48, Schellingstraβe, Munich. “I don’t understand this at all.” Alfred murmured. “This dead body’s hands are burned, car seems scrap and god only knows why I became a cop?” “Never hate your job.” Henry said while entering inside the garage. “And don’t worry. We are here now.” “Thank god you are here.” Alfred said. “Where’s Mr. Jefferson?” “If his assistant is here, so is he too.” Henry replied. “He is having a talk with family members inside home.” “Let’s get in then.” Alfred said. They entered inside the home which was much like a palace while putting off their shoes outside as much mud was glued to them. A quite spotless hall looked sad. Kitchen was a bit chaotic. A lady was crying loudly on the couch besides a calm young boy with soiled legs. A maid was standing in a corner. And a man with a hat on his head and a pipe in his hand was sitti...

Random Strokes

Search This Blog