OCTOBER 2010 ISSUE 2
magazine
Dear Readers, I am nervous and excited to present to you the second issue of START magazine! The making of this issue has been an overwhelming experience. Managing between the world of science and art has opened doors to a new sense of understanding and perspective. I have come to realize that you don‟t have to “find” time to do the things that you love. Rather, you “make” time for them. The artists featured in this issue have inspired me to never stop doing the things that bring joy, however little or huge they may be. This is an attempt to penetrate into six young creative minds and perceive their sense of „art‟. This is an opportunity to learn something new. I sincerely hope that you will encourage us to keep going and dream Big. We are looking forward to your feedback and support. Always.
Priya Prakash EDITOR editor@startmagazine.in
featured artists
Nidhi Srivastava S Rohit Krishnan Shohini Sengupta Rahul Vittal Samarth Rangavittal Keshav Laddha
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Nidhi Srivastava
21 // Delhi // Physics Undergrad Student http://www.flickr.com/photos/keeperofthekeys/
I like coffee, sunshine, spectrums, fairy lights, the color purple, starry skies, transferred epithets, reading, writing letters and chasing butterflies. The unlikeliest of things inspire me. I might be given an apple to eat, and I donâ€&#x;t want to eat it, so I start clicking photos of it. It might or might not turn out to be something beautiful or amazing, but I do it anyway. I might be bored in the lab, waiting for my turn, so I take photos of my lab partner assiduously performing the experiment.
I look for beauty in the smallest of things around me..
Life through a diffraction grating..
I find the world of Science and Art are pretty much similar. As a student of Physics, I have to study natural phenomena, as well as human inventions like machines and computers, all of which required great imagination and genius to conceive & create. These were objects of fantasy at the time of their invention; subject to much incredulity and amazement, akin to the responses invoked by pieces of art.
I‟ve been shooting with a camera ever since I was deemed old enough to hold one, maybe by the age of 7 or 8. To start with, I was allowed to take the family vacation photos. As a reward, I was allowed to „waste‟ one or two films on photos of whatever caught my fancy. My earliest subjects/models were my dolls. I have innumerable doll photographs that I hope no one on earth ever has the misfortune of seeing. I also took photos of a lot of flowers & butterflies. When I was 10, my dad got a digital camera from his office. The kind which had floppies for memory. I went crazy taking photos of all the stuff around me. A different world had opened up to me. I saw everything in a new light, from the point of view of making it look beautiful in a photograph. I took photos of my bed, of flowers, of trees, of rocks, of the grass growing beneath them or not, or grandparents, cooks, drivers, neighbors, and of course, the dolls. Sadly when we moved back to Delhi we had to not only give up the camera but all the floppies got damaged in transit (mould can grow on floppies, did you know?) So very few photos of that „era‟ remain. It was not until I turned 18 that I got my very own camera. My birthday had gone horribly, what with college admissions and a cancelled party. So my dad felt went and bought a Sony Cybershot for me in the evening. It was also a bit of a family tradition, apparently. He, too, had received his first camera on graduation. My little point and shoot has been my most cherished possession ever since, next only to my Harry Potter books.
I‟m shy and I‟m uncomfortable taking photos of other people. I‟m trying to break out of this. While most of my friends are unable to understand the concept of photography for the sake of art (they always want to look nice and „not fat‟), my best friend, a fellow photographer and bookworm, and my soul sister, is the most obliging of them all. I‟ve taken some of my best photographs with her or of her.
I‟m blessed to be living in a city like Delhi. It‟s full of natural beauty combined with a rich culture and heritage- a photographer‟s delight.
I think everyone has their uniqueness, quirks or their own special brand of weirdness. It is unfair to stereotype people. I celebrate my uniqueness. If I‟m the nerd of the class I‟m fine, almost happy, with it as long as I‟m the only one & I‟m being appreciated for being different from everyone else. I think it‟s important not to dwell on stereotypes or labels conferred on you, and extremely important to never do that to others.
Future? Travel. And I would like a huge DSLR to go along.
S Rohit Krishnan
We're all just numbers anyway.
20 // Chennai http://www.flickr.com/photos/rohitsabu/
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Just out of college, traveling for a year before I do anything.
Elliot's beach post-sunset. As the Adyar river meets the seas...
I first picked up a camera and started shooting almost exactly three years ago I think- I remember it was sometime during my first year of college, I never really went to college and I took to photography instead (or vice versa).
I don't look at B&W photography objectively- I mean I use a digital camera so the option to create a black and white image is always available, unlike during the film days. B&W is only a means to an end, and not the end itself- so when I feel an image works better in black and white (for whatever reason- distracting colour, simpler toners‌) I create a monotone.
Music inspires me the most.
Music creates a world in my head- sounds that I can see- words that I can dream- and that visual landscape I see in my mindâ€&#x;s eye overlays with what I see around me. Sometimes they resonate, and I wait for those moments to photograph them.
a duality. an aura of congruity that peels away into thinning layers of disparity in a moment's lapsealluding to the fluidity of time.
Rajouri Garden, Delhi.
hands - a mild obsession -
From one aspiring young photographer to another: Stick to one lens during the formative years (it helps you think better, think in terms of a scene within a frame and you shoot during the time you spend deliberating). Talk to yourself about the images you create- "looks cool" is not the goal here- emotion is- if you look at a photograph you made and it doesn't spark off a thought or an idea, then it will not in anyone else either. If your image can invoke an emotional response from yourself- you've really lived that moment and THAT really is the goal- to do it for yourself.
The Secret? The rush. The charge, the jolt, the thrill!! The moment, the flash (the flash before the moment, or that which comes after) and that sweet satisfaction.
Shohini Sengupta
21 // Kolkata // Biotechnology Student http://luciddarkness.blogspot.com/
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Although alliterations are amazing and almost addictive, aren't assonant atmospheres also agreeably amiable?
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I like listening to music, playing the piano and guitar, reading anything and everything that is printed, writing, Science Fiction/ Fantasy, cats, animals in general (except lizards), indulging in a bit of amateur photography, alliterations, sketching, graphic art and doodling, purple things, making chocolates, eating chocolates, baking, having conversations with myself, chicken-dancing, cycling, martial arts and a whole lot of other things!
Fairy tales had always been such an important part of my childhood! Now don‟t get me wrong, I am well acquainted with the rituals of reality to know that they are far from true. However, I always did have a world where I was free to be free and that is a choice I am grateful to have been given. I believe it was my grandfather who first introduced me to the magic that lay in stories —where the rules of the real world did not always have to be followed. Monkeys and crocodiles could have meaningful business transactions just as easily as you and I, and you could always tell the antagonist apart from his or her cold calculating laugh. There were rules, yes, but most of the time, these were simple and more importantly, followed. You knew that the truth would triumph in the end, something that is in stark contrast to what happens in real life. But then, I digress. What made me pause and wonder this evening was not how the world of fairy tales and children‟s imagination lived by its ethical code, but whether I, given the right time and place, would also be able to offer another new soul a chance to discover the joys of the magical world that I loved so.
I was lucky enough to have people at home who would read to me as a child, people who would not think twice about letting text books lie unattended while letting me pore over brightly coloured skies — some of which were painted on paper and others painted in my mind. A good bedtime story was not just a way to get me to fall asleep, but the path to a mind that stayed rich and open while I dreamt of faraway lands. And not surprisingly, it was not long before I would spend many an hour by myself, lost in beautiful worlds yet to be seen by my eyes. These were worlds where I was free to decide how people laughed, how they saw life and how they cried. I loved it. I still do. Yet, when I recall how everything started I can‟t help but marvel at the charm that the talented storytellers of my early days possessed. To take a child and weave a whole new perspective for her to immerse herself in is no mean feat! This is especially true if the specimen concerned is one like me, with the tendency to get much too easily bored… and distracted. I wonder then, if I will be able to carry on this fair tradition when my time comes. Will I remember the stories my grandfather told? Or will they be erased by time as I grow old?
The morning says that winter may have arrived, or in the least, is slowly creeping towards our lives. The scorching summer afternoon has been washed away by the rains and what is left now is the soft tender touch of the cold about to greet us in the coming months. There is a lot of life to see yet, and as I feel the need to live more strongly every day, each passing season breathes its own elixir into my being. The truth is that rediscovering yourself takes time. It does not happen in a month, or perhaps even a year. And at times you do feel that you just hit the same roadblock yet again. Then again, all I have to do to let my soul sing synchronously with the universe is to just let it be... It does not take that much effort to feel after all!
As the season speaks..
Martyred Mosquito Once there was a mosquito Who often forgot its name And that the greatest goal for all its kind Was the quest for flamboyant fame, It buzzed its way around the heads Its bloodthirsty brethren, however Of many a pacifist prey Did not take kindly to its fast And stabbed into their succulent skin “What right does this infidel have To gorge on blood for the day. To stray from norms?” they asked, Apprehensive of a revolutionary ruse Now this mercurial mosquito They confronted this quirky quack Liked not its sanguine life And buzzed before it demandingly Hounded by ever-swatting hands To take its vile vow back. That were out to create strife, It was a gentle gregarious soul But this heroic mosquito Who fed on blood with great distaste Felt bound by its given word It would even have liked being vegan Retraction seemed impossible though death Had nature not been in such haste. Was the alternative offered, Charged with blatant blasphemy Evolution has done great injustice, And defiling food-habits old Felt this morbid mosquito This maladjusted mosquito Denying it liquor of its choice Became a martyr bold. Through a faulty status quo, Egged on by its gnawing conscience It embarked on a mission new — A hunger strike being what it called for Till it was offered better brew.
This is something that is very close to my heart in terms of the underlying message. Not too many people would deliver a social message through a mosquito's changed diet.
Inspiration? Now that's a question which can be answered in one word as well as a thousand of them. To put it succinctly without being terribly terse, I'd have to say that life inspires me. Whether it is in the form of a leaf swaying gently in the wind, or the free flawless flight of a bird or even the annoying wail of a five-year-old screaming for attention, life enlivens me and inspires me to enjoy and experience all the shades that it has to offer! I believe in the glory of human expression, and have the deepest and sincerest regard for all those who have the knack for expressing their perceptions well. So I guess, that is something that inspires me as well -expression. :) Now as far as my writing goes, I usually write when I feel the need to let out some kind of strong emotion {the standard answer for any kind of artist, right? :)}. Also, when I'm feeling particularly random or particularly crazy or when an indescribable insatiable insane intense insistent instinct tells me to alliterate. Yes, I admire and adore almost all alliterations. Lastly, and most importantly, humour of any kind, be it simple, witty or even dark and twisted, that I come across in my daily diurnal doings, often gives me just the right kick to set the words flowing.
I have my own way of seeing and responding to the world... my own concoction of craziness that gets me through all that is mundane. Scientist? Author/ Poet? Entrepreneur? I haven't decided as yet. All I know is that I'd like to achieve a balance between all the things I love doing and be at peace with myself at the end of the day. Let's see how life works out. I'm hoping for the best!
Rahul Vittal
20 // Bangalore // Engineering Student
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http://epic9.wordpress.com/
Samarth Rangavittal 20 // Suratkal // Engineering Student
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We tell stories. And not just any stories. Our interests lie in the realm of historical fantasy.
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Snippet from Episode 1: The Siege of Constantinople
a merchant of Venice Background: When Diocletian had made the decision of splitting up the Roman Empire, his successor Constantine ruled from the Eastern Capital, named in his honor. Gradually, the two halves moved apart, not only in collective ideals, but also by the emergence of the Magyars as a buffer between them. The final straw was when the Church, the last common ground for the two sides split into a western Catholic and an eastern Orthodox.
Aside: Much was to be made of the Orthodoxy when, after the fall of Constantinople, Russia claimed to be the last stand of “true” Christianity, which led to many great warriors to flock to (and fall under) its banner. The Ottomans had lived much as quarrelsome neighbours with Byzantium. Now, with the splitting of the Church, and the isolation of Byzantium from any help from the west, the Ottoman‟s were free to press forward with a deadly attack. Their eyes filled with lust for wealth by controlling commerce , and their hearts enflamed by hatred for the infidels, they fell upon the Byzantines like a scourge.
The time: 1453, April. The place: Constantinople. The day began like any other. A sunny April morning, but it was the last sunrise over an independent Christian state of Constantinople. Marco woke up and made his way through the streets to his jewels, the huge stable of exotic horses. They were his most profitable trade and thus, were always on his mind. His stables were right beside the harbor, which was his next destination. Walking up to his prized vessel, the Erminia Mazzella, he saw his captain issuing orders. They greeted each other and were about to discuss the day‟s affairs when… Suddenly, a flare loomed over the horizon. Fishing boats that had ventured out onto the Black Sea were returning to the harbor, retreating all at once. Many of them capsized before they could make it to the shore, a blue coral ed was the first to go down. A young boy, many years yet to his coming-of-age, jumped onto the rickety Fisherman‟s Pier. “They are upon us“, the lad screamed, “The wretches are here!”.
All the men and women carrying out their daily trade by the harbor looked as one towards the sea, dread filling their lungs. With their massive cannons in tow the Turks had come. But where was the Defense? Where were the much vaunted Imperial Guard, whose spending and allowance had dwarfed the concessions granted to even the most trusted merchants by the Emperor? The captain read his mind. “The Emperor must be informed”, he breathed. “The Guard responds only to His Call”. Marco knew what was required of him now. “Quick!”, Marco commanded. “Saddle Fireheart! I must go to the Emperor now !”.
Within seconds, he was on the mare, clutching on for dear life as he galloped through the back alleys of Constantinople. When he reached the thoroughfare, he could see the crowds crawling like a pack of ants. He swiftly made his way through the rabble, shrugging off questions from those he knew, until he had the Palace in sight. In one deft, practiced motion, he leaped off the horse and began to run up the entrance stairs as fast as he could. The ashen expression on his face was enough to prevent the guards from making a move to stop him, and he skidded to a halt as he entered the Great Entrance Hall. The Emperor was there, with his retinue. “Bloodsuckers, the lot of them!” he cursed in his mind, not for the first time as he made a courteous bow to the Emperor. “Is it true?” His Majesty asked, and one look at Marco was enough to convince him. For a moment, it seemed like his knees would fail, but then he composed himself. With iron grit in his voice, the Emperor announced “Summon the Imperial Guard!”. And that was that, Marco had done what he could.
The Emperor had spoken.
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Epic 9 Interview How did „Epic 9â€&#x; come into being? Sam: I've always been interested in writing, and have always wanted to author a book. In the summer holidays after 12th grade, Rahul and I were having a chat and we realized that we shared a common desire to tell stories. It took a few brainstorming sessions to figure out what we wanted to write. In the end we decided to stick with history, after which it didn't take much time to come up with the plot. Epic9 is an outlet for our ideas, a place to kick start our writing. Rahul: It's like this, many a time we come across stuff and say to ourselves “Hey!, that's one hell of a story. We should tell this to others too!" We do just that. We like to re-tell those stories, albeit in our own style.
Historical fantasy is something viz. unusual & not widely seen among the other story tellers. Comments? Well it's not really unusual - some of our favorite authors like David Gemmel and Conn Iggulden write historical fantasy. That apart, what really annoyed the hell out of us was how boring history was at school level, how text book authors could make even majestic rulers, bloody battles and intriguing schemes seem so drab and sleep inducing. The freedom that historical fantasy gives you is immense - you can tell the story from your point of view, there are no restrictions on how you choose to unravel the story.
Give us an insight into the process of your story writing. We strongly believe that before we write, we have to have a central idea to focus on, something that the story can be built around. To find that elusive idea, we read, read and read some more! It could be a line that strikes us as particularly profound, an image that evokes some sort of emotion within us, or a passage from a history textbook that could be expanded into a full-fledged chapter. When we discover something we like, we sit and do some research, fine tune the story, and decide how to go about the narrative. Then one of us sits and writes the first draft, the other person reviews it and puts it up on the blog.
Has writing changed you in any way? Definitely. Writing is a release, an adrenaline rush of sorts. Once we get an idea, and we're able to manifest it in some form that's appreciated by people ,we get a sense of satisfaction - nothing beats that . At the risk of sounding clichéd, the idea behind our posts is to create some vivid imagery that captivates the reader, and transport him/her to the location of the events.
What is the future of „Epic 9‟? Right now, we're trying to build some scaffolding for our story, and get as much feedback as possible on our writing style and readers' interests. At the moment, all the episodes on our blog seem unconnected, but in the future, we hope to show you more of the real story, and how all these pieces fit together. If all goes well, sometime in the near future we can bring out the book too!
Snippet from Episode 3: (Coming Soon!)
And never the twain shall meet An outline. In the earliest times, it was the Asians who had a developed enough agrarian society to start devoting their time to other pursuits such as reflection on the meaning of deep, spiritual questions, and a questioning of the natural order around them. Introspection on these matters led to many groundbreaking new frontiers of thought in natural sciences and mathematics. Ancient Indians were formulating new theories and equations when the Franks were in their infancy, yet to figure out the iron plough. But the people who really transformed the ideas of the Indians into a tangible form to be understood and put into application by Europe were the Arabs. These great traders, during their exchanges with the Indians, learnt what they could, and applied what they learnt in ways to benefit them. When they sailed West, these very ideas in a modified form were sown in the European psyche. The Europeans were a unique force in this world in that they were terrible, and brave ; they were naive, but perhaps it is this curious naivetĂŠ that made them the world power they were to become. Great men here were possessed by the idea of transforming ideas into practical working models which they could bring to life with their hands. The Easterners, on the other hand, preferred to contemplate long and deep on matters, working on the theory for hours on end, perfecting it in their minds, without concern for the triviality of actually constructing a model that would prove their ideas to the world. Europeans then use Asian ideas to initially construct merchant navies, and eventually arm themselves to march on Eastern lands. Faced with a European onslaught, the only counter the indigenous population possessed was the old adage, “When in Rome, do as the Romans doâ€?. For a further explanation of what this involves, refer the eponymous post on the blog.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
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Stories have the capability to transport us to a different world. They make us dream. & dream big at that. Many of them inspire us to go above our daily trifles and elevate ourselves.
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Keshav Laddha 19 // Bangalore // Commerce Student
Music & Photography.
Two things I am very passionate about.
You will feel the burst of adrenaline, The killing wave of distortion, Drown you into, power of destruction. You will defeat your nightmare, To stand tall and fight your fear. Punish it, tear it apart, for trembling your heart. You will bleed, Bleed, in this fight against the darkness, And feel no pain, As the chugging will fill your veins. You will push your potential, Break the barriers, Tightening your fists, You will feel like the warrior. You will annihilate your opposition, Find, fight and finish him, Snatch his life, And bury him.
While listening to "Lethargica by Messhugah"
There will not lie a soul, To over-power you, A fear, To scare you, You will be your own master,
And head-bang faster.
Series
To see the world changing like this, I felt to take this upon myself, To spread a voice which speaks, About its future, so bleak. It isn't the voice of the human being, Not the voice of the almighty. As it stands, this is the voice of me, The trees, the sunshine, the water, the breeze -- the beauty around thee. Minute by minute, Day by day. My voice is softening, Looking at how, I make way for some luxury, is awfully disheartening. I have fought all my life to survive, Listening to them all the time, I gave them shade, warmth -- life. And today, they are taking mine.
As it Stands. After watching the trees cut down in once upon a time- garden City.
If only, this voice could be heard, I wouldn't be speaking to myself. If only, this heart could cry louder than theirs. I would be here, to live, to let and to provide for their own heirs. As it stands, this world is changing, My voice - is completely fading. I will see, how they survive, In this violent and cruel hive. Will their machines give them Life?
“Every day I get up and look through the Forbes list of the richest people in America. If I'm not there, I go to work.” -- Robert Orben The above lines describe who I am, my purpose and my vision. I detest being “one among the crowd”. Every day, I want to be better at what I do and stronger in what I believe. Life to me has no meaning if I am just another person having no essential part to play. What am I trying to communicate? Or is this just a way, I am trying to please whoever is reading this. No, this is who I am, a success-oriented, passionate individual who believes in creating a path, however different, however painful, to fulfill “the dream”. The problem lies with the “dreamer” in me; this dreamer cannot ever be satisfied. Each day he gives me a new challenge and each day I try to beat him, beat him to prove my worth. And as I keep doing this, winning or losing against this “dreamer” I constantly improve what lies within me. To me, such improvement is victory -success. Like a boxing coach who fights his student to know his weakness, my brain fights me, throws at me questions, to which answers, need deep contemplation. Such contemplation garners creativity, builds my knowledge & makes me realize how much more there is to tread.
As complex as all of this sounds, it is simple. This is the way I motivate myself, day in and day out, a man of my own, I constantly shape myself to deal with the ever changing outer environment. So, what ELSE do I need? I am constantly battling with self-created challenges, winning most, losing some, improving myself as a person every single day. Answering questions, asked by myself. What am I really looking for? Well, now, it‟s time for the REAL world, knowing your worth among other such “dreamers”, fighting their improved minds and strengthened souls. Has the 'dreamer', dreamt enough? We shall see.
Once upon a time, it was believed that the world was flat and if you went too far, you would fall off into nowhere. I went too far, believing what they said, and Here I am.
Cover Photo by: S Rohit Krishnan