War wounds wrapped in a smile. 

Pieces of your broken soul torments when you sigh. 

The loud noise of your quiet laughter. 

Boyish twinkle in your eyes for a happily ever after. 

A rudimentary human being like all else. 

Redundant yet gravely unprecedented. 



Waking up in the morning, breathing in the fresh musty, chemical infused air that surrounds me after a night long affair with the pictures hung on strands of thread in the beautiful red dark room.

I run my eyes slowly over each and every photograph. Oh, the immeasurable happiness, the joy of a smile or the ache of the occasional tear drop frozen in time.

As the negatives change from monochrome to the wondrous colors of the spectrum – I stand there mesmerized like a child at the airport watching a plane take off.

A 10 x 10 room never felt more spacious. Each corner wrapped in frames that takes life in different dimensions. A story to tell, a story to remember.

Dodging and burning the photographs, I blink.

BANG! A hidious, unethical knock.

I squint, the red dark room is suddenly full of cheap florescent lights. I feel like an abandoned baby at a solemn, monotonous hospital nursery.

The strands of thread that once hung the slices of life; fades to white and slowly to nothingness. My 10 x 10 room now seems smaller than a coffin.

My eyes, red and heavy from lack of a good night sleep. The four corners have disappeared into large walls of plaster. The room smells different too – it feels clean, without any tales to tell.

Mouth stiched like an ancient mummy doomed to rot, I want to scream as I watch the photographs being sweeped away by the wind. Outside the window where they don’t belong, as I lie in the hospital cot, hooked up to machines that now, somehow keep me alive.


VIEW.FOCUS.CLICK is an armature photography magazine, that I complied as a final project for the 2nd year of my BA degree in Mass Communication at Manipal University, Dubai. This magazine contents basic information required for a beginner level photographer to learn about photography.

Short story 7

She sat there in the middle of all commotion.
Clinging on to something cold and drifting off to a place she found peace,
Her solitude.
Her eyes narrated and re-narrated thousand unspoken stories, of days, months and years, of once upon a time.
As she slowly came back to reality,
the cold was replaced by warmth…
Warmth that her beloved Grammy promised to bestow on her forever.

Story story 3

And he said,
“I tried to love you, but you failed me.”
And those words reverberated in her head years later when her grandchild asked her,
“Grammy did you ever fall in love with someone?”
She smiled and said,
“Everything I know about life is because of that one silly thing called, love.”