The First Time

"So, shall we begin?", she asks him.

In the split-second between her question and his answer, a million thoughts go through him. He has waited for this moment for a long time. He remembers all those sleepness nights, when he would stay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if it would ever happen. And now that he is here, doubt runs through him. This could have waited a little longer. He feels he still isn't prepared for it.

He turns his head to meet her eyes. "Sure", he confidently replies.

"Alright. All yours".

The garage is pleasantly quiet. Even though no one is particularly looking in his direction,  he feels the eyes on him. It's a big day and he is the center of attention. The conversations around him, somehow, don't reach his ears. He puts his ear-plugs into place. To his further pleasure, it cuts of all sounds completely. Ever slowly, he straps his overall and wears his helmet. He knows his attempts at avoiding the inevitable are futile, but he tries his best to delay the moment.

Delicately, as if he is handling a glass vase, he climbs into the cockpit. A couple of his engineers strap him into place. He adjusts himself a bit and then without looking up, he gives them a thumbs-up sign, indicating that everything is in place and he is comfortable. He brings his visor down and closes his eyes. Absolute silence. He cannot hear anything except his heart going off like a bass drum. Yet he feels more relaxed now. He begins to feel more at home. Perhaps, this should have come sooner. Maybe he has waited too long to make it happen.

At that moment, the engine comes to life. He opens his eyes, readier than ever. "Track clear, ready to go. Limiter ON.", a voice says on his radio. One of his crew members pulls the car off the jack while another stands right outside the garage, his hand raised towards the car. Inside the helmet, a grin forms across his face. He suddenly feels a little impatient. He can't wait to go out. The engineer finally brings his hand down. Without waiting any further, he puts his foot down on the accelerator and pulls out of the garage.  His heart begins to race before he does. 

The Hunchback and The Time Travler

An eyeful of red. That’s how it shocks you. No, it does not greet you. It makes you stop in your tracks. It forces you to look at it. Every passerby stops, even if for a second. They click it or pose with it and as quickly, they move on. In this age of polished edges and square shapes, it looks misplaced. Huge bulging, round eyes, a wide grin, lush red interiors and small wings protruding from the back of its bent back, the car is a relic of an age that once was.

The time-traveler leans quietly against the old-timer. She wears a white skirt with red-polka dots, topped off with a pink top and a black jacket. She knows she is not the star. Pretty she may be, but not the star. Not today. The cameras go-off every few seconds, yet her face doesn’t twitch a bit. With her outfit, she looks as misplaced as the car itself.  

The hunchback stands affixed at one point. He is not interested in taking any photos. “Childish” is the word that repeats itself in his head. Head bowed, he is drowned in deep concentration, running his eyes over every single detail of the car. He makes mental notes about small aspects, notes that he will never use nor remember.  He raises his head just as the time-traveler turns her gaze away from him. His head starts turning in the other direction, but the time-traveler glances a second time.

Their eyes lock.

Her beige eyes are cold. Her expression is unchanged. He wonders if perhaps she sees the same coldness in his eyes. A thousand impulses tell him to look away. Instead, he works his face muscles into a smile. She doesn’t return the response. She closes her eye for a moment as she turns her head away, staring into nothingness. The hunchback doesn’t feel dejected, only slightly empty.

He turns and begins to walk away, joining the ever-growing crowd. “Note to self”, he says in his head, “that is not my area of expertise“. As he approaches the exit, he glances back for just one last look.

The Uncinematic Monk

It's a monk...but it's not cinema

Every once in a while, there comes a little piece that doesn't make it to the real world. Here's another one I didn't want to let go waste, even though I had worked on it for only about 6 hours. My friend Cinnamonk had asked me to make a logo for him. After scratching my head for a couple of days, I am came up with this sketch (except that one was just black and white). The only problem was that while it was a monk but there was nothing 'cinema' about it. We did come up with a solution but decided to drop it and go for something simpler instead.

(P.S.-you will have to head over to cinnamonk's blog to see their logo )