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#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...
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#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...
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#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...
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