Love, is love. A four letter word that encompasses a whole lot. Defining it only restricts the giving and receiving.

If I say “I love you”, it does NOT mean “I want to have sex with you”. It means exactly what I said, that I love you.
Can’t recall the number of people I have lost touch with because they have definitions.

When I was a child, with my very first crush on this boy, I used to believe I could love more than one person – there were so many cute boys in my class! My peers ridiculed me for that thought and in college I had quite the reputation. For expressing my *thoughts. [ I cannot comment about other societies but ] Indian society assumes love can be shared only with someone you’re sleeping with or your mother.

I love my friends as fiercely as I love my husband. I have priorities yes, but you can’t confuse those as less-love and more-love classifications.


I didn’t think it was possible to be besotted with someone.

The way I am, at this stage in life, with these many years, one divorce and lots of boys behind me. Didn’t think it was possible. Maybe that is what professional and intellectual intercourse feels like. Never met someone like him. One of those men I’d like to keep in my life forever – so that when I’m seventy and I look back, I know I didn’t miss out on anything.

I’ve become a better “fake smiler” in the last year. A really good one.

It is a lot like the real thing – the cheek/jaw muscles hurt if you do it a lot, no one can make out you’re faking it, people around you become happy and smile back, if you do it enough yourself, you’re happy too.

But I know it’s fake because a lot of people I meet are such complete dolts that it is impossible to not feel pity for their level of intelligence or common sense. And it is damn near impossible to produce a genuine smile when your brain is distressed hearing these people talk. People are stupid.

And because I don’t want to be rude to them – these are human beings after all, my own species and I’m a sucker for giving someone the benefit of doubt – I fake my smile. To me it feels like I’m not being untruthful to myself and am not being mean to “people” either. A safe fence-sitter because my need to belong triumphs all else. And instead of telling myself that I have to endure this inane talk from stupid people and be stoic and take it in my stride, I just deliver the fake smile.

Practice it on your family and closest friends first. If they can’t detect it, no one else ever will.

And don’t forget what your real smile feels like. Forgetting THAT would be a tragedy.

I think I am obsessed with photography – wedding or otherwise.

There are so many things I want to capture and so little time.

Since being obsessed was never on the agenda, each time I pick up my camera, I ask myself if it’s really needed and the first answer is always, “Of course it is!” even though it probably isn’t. Sometimes I force myself not to carry my camera around wherever I go – afterall, I’m a professional photographer, not a hobbyist – I should shoot only when getting paid. (If only it was this simple.)

So there have been times when I went out and was not carrying my camera – and each of those times – I’ve regretted it.

I sit on a razor sharp fence – I don’t want to compromise on my personal life because I’m always photographing – paid or otherwise; and I also do not want to compromise on my photography – I have, after all, only about another 30-40 years of life left to live.

And I’ll be damned if I live any of it without my camera by my side.

So yes, I am obsessed. Sue me.

Someone asked me what professionalism meant to me.

I didn’t have an answer right away because to me, professionalism is more a matter of words like integrity, passion, etc., which aren’t really definitive words for most people. These words are more like ideals that are unattainable in “real” life, as I’ve been told countless times. So I wanted to think of a much simpler way to define what I think constitutes professionalism.

For me, professionalism means not lying or telling the truth. A combination of courage and kindness.

What this means, as an example, from a recent experience, is that if you are not going to hire me, you tell me as much. You get brownie points of sharing your reasons and even more chocolatey gooey brownie points if you can deliver the news in a humane fashion. Courage plus kindness.

Professionalism isn’t about capability – whether, as a photographer or designer I can deliver what a client asks for. But it is about whether I am being utterly truthful with the client – if I can deliver their requirements and what I charge and how much and what they will have to compromise on if they bargain purely on a price point. Or if I am unable to deliver and can refer them to someone else without being a bitch.

Truth + Courage + Kindness = Professionalism.

As David on Twitter shared, “Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. Sometimes, though, the unwanted opinions are coming from an asshole.”

As far as I’m concerned, ALL unwanted opinions appear to be coming from someone who is either always an asshole or someone who is being an asshole in that moment. Yes Mom, sometimes, you too.

It appears that everyone, at some point in their lives, and hence at every point in your own life, is trying their best to make you doubt your own self and embed it into your head that you don’t know what you’re doing.

In junior high, I had a “best friend” who told me I wouldn’t be a successful person in life because I had no morals & principals and because I did not have an opinion. I thought about that statement for years – one of the downfalls of that “best friend” was that I never made many close female friends – and eventually, I realized that it appeared to her that I had no opinions or beliefs because I did not think it to be my birthright to share them at every opportunity I could force.

So seriously, people with opinions, shut the fuck up. If you have facts, lets talk.
Or even better, if you can tell me something that the majority of the population believes to be a fact but is in fact an opinion, please invite yourself over for a drink.

I can see that wedding photography is going to be a big part of my photography career. I enjoy the hard work, doesn’t mean I don’t bitch about it. Marwari weddings can be painful.

One of the things I’ve observed is the attention I get as a female photographer. I’m usually looking to be left alone to compose my images & shoot in peace. But the queue of people wanting a free portrait keeps getting longer.

They praise my camera, “It’s awesome because of the enlarge.” Obviously referring to the lens hood that does nothing of that sort.

Or, “You must be from Bombay. No one this smart can be from anywhere but Bombay.” This from a sixty-something old fart who hasn’t taken his eyes off my boobs.

Or, “You have to take a special picture of me. Just you and me.” Followed by hysterical smiling, winks and attempts at further innuendo.

And the usual being-mistaken-as-a-foreigner routine. “What country are you from?” in broken English.

The competition from the local and so-called “official” photographers is quite another saga. No respect for the other lens person’s space, trying their best to block my view, going wherever I go, replicating angles I’m shooting, making the couple’s expressions worse by asking them to pose and when nothing else works, taking pictures of me while I work. Their lighting sucks, they direct their flash into faces, they smell & I hate them for their doggedness. They’re on their feet for hours on end.

While I have no intentions of being just a wedding photographer, I can see this is part of my calling.

It means : “holier-than-thou: excessively or hypocritically pious”.

You’re probably full of yourself and comment on other people’s statements like it is your birthright to tell them how you know their profession better, how they should be raising their kids, how they should be holding their posture and who they should be hiring for that job opening.

If you are sanctimonious, you are probably also pedantic : “A pedant is a person who is overly concerned with formalism and precision; marked by a narrow focus on or display of learning especially its trivial aspects”. And you will obviously also be patronizing : “characteristic of those who treat others with condescension”.

I, on the other hand, prefer to be like Calvin. I don’t know shit and I only claim to know shit. I also want you to fuck off. Fuckface. Thank you Russell, I love you too.

Keys to most of the apartments of bachelors & single people can be found in flower pots outside their homes.

Discussions range from regular sex life to human evolution, auras & history. We were discussing Romans & how they fucked the concept of religion for all of us.

Photography, models, fashion magazines & typical life of creatives.

Someone’s trying to shove an ashtray on someone’s big toe. Life is good. Jacob’s Creek red wine is better than anything else I’ve tried.

Everyone has an opinion [ which is actually palatable but bear with me, it gets worse ]. A well-informed opinion is something I can respect. A mis-informed one is, quite frankly, not an opinion but a delusion. Add to that the fact that an @reply on Twitter means I am going to have to read it – not because I can’t ignore it but because it’s right there in front of my eyes and it can be read in a snap.

To top that, I regularly get suggestions on what I should have done and how, when the person replying has no real-world experience of doing what I’m doing – not specifically photography / design but independent business / consulting etc. It gets absolutely disgustingly bad when I ask someone particular a very-specific question and everyone else but that person sends me an @reply!

Most of my time spent on Twitter feels like I’m talking to myself.