Monday, March 23, 2009

The Chair

It was strange to see grandpa sitting in the short, plastic-stringed chair. He never used to sit in this.
The man always used to sit in his long-armed teak chair. Every morning he would settle himself with a huge glass of tea and newspaper with his legs spread across the wooden arms. In evenings he again settles in the wooden wonder and watches children play in the courtyard. He watches them so keenly may be reminiscing his own childhood days.

Even when the man was absent from the chair, everyone gave great respect to it. Little children were afraid to go near the wooden piece.

But don't know what happened to the old black-polished chair that the man adored. He now sits in a shorter version with no long arms.

The Death Of My Grandpa And His Rocking Chair.

Sunday, March 01, 2009

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When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.
Ansel Adams


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