Of Thousands Unwritten Images...

...The same ticking clock-angles, the same straight en routes in the morning sun, the same fussy bustle on the rails, the same confining corridors at the workplace, the same settling seats, the same unmindful faces, the same boss-beating, the same placid ring-tones, the same hardened emotions, the same longing of walking past forever, the same looking out of the confining cubicle, the same...

But yet so different. Each day to the office and back is SO different, of such an inconclusive complexity. I pity for those [and for me also occasionally :)] who remain stuck in the monotonous overtones of every day's plane regularity.

In most usual sense when you make the movement home-to-office everyday, you get absorbed in mindless fuzzy images breezing past you every moment - on the streets outside or the corporate board rooms inside. And all but once in a while you try hard not to look at them. It's like your vision keeps overpowering you, and your eyes remain in constant confusion. Yet you savor some delightful snaps, of every day's splendor, of ordinary uniqueness that still brings occasional smile to your face.

But I relish the millions of images I capture everyday - of few finer things, of the new normal in the changing lives, much like a photographer gone berserk doing mindless shots of every next moment. And they keep me in the amusement. It's like sleep-walking through the fearful 'routine-job' yet finding enough stimulants of our taste of novelty.

Here are some snaps that have stayed frozen within me, and the undying thoughts that they'll carry for me, forevermore...

+ Of the tiniest water drops whoozing in full blow like a free spirit, out of the sprinklers in my office garden - Drops shining in the full heat of sunlight, yet so frigid that the mere sight of their journey out through the nozzle till kissing the thirsty grass - lets you feel you've had a bath of life. And it seems that in all through their life-journey of few seconds, they have lived an eternity.

+ Of that little girl playing in front of the gates everyday - children of the dust, children of the mills. Her mother is working for the building construction next to my place. They sit down together in the dust and shadow for their lunch, as I cross past for a post-lunch walk. She has bare minimum clothes, but wears a big smile normally, and I've never seen her crying. So happy playing with sticks and dust. I think of bringing her chocolate everyday, but I forget. I easily forget good small things now.

+ Of the broken leaves that fell casually on my hand - from the trees in my premises, retired from their branches after full years of service. They were pale, but relieved. I never knew why they came to me, probably wanted a safe quiet place to rest after a hanging life all throughout hitherto. But my hands aren't that safe and steady as of now. And I lost them.

+ Of that lady at the station pouring out all her tiffin into an old women's beggar-bowl. And I wonder she does it everyday? Maybe not, but the withered hands of old women would be longing for it everyday. Maybe she would make it a feast for her little girl lingering in the dirt close to their bedspread. There are hundreds of beggars like the old women that I come across the platforms, waiting for the feast one good day.

+ Of the smokes evolving out of the traffic...into nothing. It knew never - from where it came from and where it'll end up. It just is - floating in full inebriety, rising up and melting into air...accepting an end. It also manifests in another form - the smoke of doubt, of skepticism that pollutes the air incessantly. And I sense it all as I commute - the hush-hush doubts in the eyes of most of the commuters. No, not commuters, but only strangers pretending to be more strange. As if they've been cursed on these hell-streets.

+ Of yet unlimited smiles across the faces I get to witness everyday...Smiles of a confession for a mistaken nudge on the side, by the fellow commuter; Smiles back in acknowledgment of a Smile; Smiles in a dying anticipation of a signal from the beautiful out-of-the-place face in the crowd; Smiles carried miles across on the cellphone while sitting in the train; Smiles for just the thought of finishing out the messed up journey; Smiles out of a blush on a maiden's face - of feeling gorgeous to have dressed up primly in her favorite outfit; Smiles for...just having walked a bright sunny day.

+ Of my firm's logo that stays into fixation...as a cachet. It's a weird symbol like those you find in Maya characters, but it whispers a story every time someone walks by it. Story of successes it has witnessed and legacy it symbolizes; Stories of silent proud hearts, the load of which it carries every moment, of a collective conscience that it drives - for the hundred thousand workers...But the worker within me doesn't feel the comfort, staying there in his seats, he should confess.

There's more - endless images and umpteen thoughts; but they require zillions of words. And I want to keep this post long till readable, so I should leave.
Would you mind sharing your snaps...

**All images used here are courtesy stock.xchng and everystockphoto.com. I really didn't have any camera other than my eyes and glasses, I swear.