Before discussing about data visualization as how the demands of modern world define it or how it led my organization into harvesting data and drive business, let us touch upon how well it is ingrained in our daily lives, in everything we perceive and process.
We humans always react almost impulsively to anything that is communicated visually. The different shapes, symbols and colours have always grabbed our eye balls like no other.
In a day, amidst tonnes of photographs that cascade down our walls of various photo sharing platforms, if your work stops the scroll wheel that’s rolled frantically, for a second or two and gets noticed, then Hooray! You have done a good job with the photograph. Few seconds later, the wheel rolls again and your image becomes a thing of past. Welcome to the digital era where a few seconds of glare on your image means it has had its fair share of limelight, however good it was and eventually gets sucked into the zone of nothingness. The black hole zone. If it can get a minute’s attention, then the photograph attains a cult status comparatively. But it can’t escape the algorithm. …
Nature is beautiful. A splendid expanse of greenery with a lake upfront kissed by a layer of mist. And then the golden rays just stops by to hover over it after meandering aimlessly. And then the birds and their symphony to soothe the soul. And then a million stars at night for company. No traces of plastic nor a blade of phone signal nor a human in sight. And then a palsy afflicted child. And then to raise her, a single father. And then the onset of perpetual chain of woes that nature designs for them.
Nature is cruel too.
And then nature drags them to this place set in a terribly polluted urban milieu. A cluttered expanse of concrete mired with traffic and dust accompanied by the cacophony of vehicle sounds in air. Not a blade of grass visible. Material, humans, emotions. Everything seem so plastic and suggestive. And in the midst of it all, against this blinding glare, rises a silhouette of that child clasping the arms of her father. They both gaze in awe and agony respectively, at this place that was everything the previous place was not. …
A large canvas of sands dotted with camels and turban clad traders. And a nomad in the midst of it all, all mad with the index finger firmly on the shutter button, throwing his camera at everything possible, is how one could have described me at the Mela. The annual camel and livestock fair happens at Pushkar in Rajasthan, India every year. The event attracts huge pile of Photographers from all over the world. So huge that, to camels it might well look like a photographers fair. The scenes were magical indeed, especially in the golden hours, with every ray that passes, makes silhouette of camels with their long necks dangling in the air rhythmically.
The different hues of Pushkar from dawn to dusk. The Hop-on-the-Hump photo series.
My eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the dark ambiance. My ears though had their sensors tuned and took in what was initially a low creak of metal colliding over another. With every step, the sound gradually grew and went on to fill the entire place, as I came closer. A huge pile of metal scrap was getting bulldozed and I could only smile at this sight as I knew a scrumptious meal was underway. In a distance I saw an orange glow straight ahead on the huge wall and I walked right up there. My backpack sat heavily on my shoulders with the stack of documents loaded neatly inside and a laptop with the presentation. All primed for the meeting ahead. A briefcase on one hand with a product for demonstration that was planned later that day, pulling down a part of me. A portable Pyrometer inside. …
Every time an idea is conceived and a craft is built upon it, with our heart invested into, driven by passion and perseverance, a seed is sown. A seed that awaits its turn to sprout into a form which is believed to have in it, the very purpose of our being.
A form that invariably mirrors what was until then well concealed by all the trash we recklessly dump within us. The Inner self! Undeterred albeit well concealed. The quest to unearthing it begins here and with every craft built, our inner self is extricated slowly and steadily. …
சங்கத்தமிழில் நிலவியல் ஐந்திணைகளாக வகைப்படுத்தி அதில் கடல் மற்றும் கடல் சார்ந்த செயற்பாடுகளையே நெய்தல் என்று குறிப்பிடப்பட்டுள்ளது.
நிலத்தையும் நீரையும் நெசவுச்செய்து, எழில் சேர்த்து, மாருதம் மலர, கதிரவனின் ஒளி உதிர கிழக்கு கடற்கரையின் வாயிலாக இயற்கை நமக்களித்த வளத்தையும், வலை வீசி அதை நமக்கு பயனுற செய்யும் அங்கு வசிக்கும் மக்களையும் சந்தித்துரையாடியதன் ஒரு சிறுத்துளி இது.
அலை கக்கும் நுரைகளை உற்று நோக்கியபடி, பாதம் ஒவ்வொரு மணற் துகள்களையும் உணரும்படி சுவடு பதிக்க, கணவன் கரைத்திரும்பும் நாள் எப்போது, மகனின் முகம் தொடுவானில் மலர்வது எப்போது என்று உறவுகள் காத்திருக்க, தன்னையே நாற்றாக நட்டு கடலில் அறுவடை செய்பவனும் விவசாயியே.
அவ்விவசாயிகளின் வாழ்வாதாரத்தையும், கடலோடு உரையாடி உறவாடி விதைத்த நல்முறைகளையும், நெறிகளையும் புகைப்பட வடிவமாக இங்கு வழங்குவதில் பெருமகிழ்ச்சி அடைகிறேன்.
Days after watching this movie, the effect of it was still getting administered drop by drop as in an intravenous infusion, sending in doses of horrific realities of inequality in a caste obsessed society and the dire consequences of it tainting the very fabric of humanity and our next gen cropping bang in the middle of it. Thus a debate sparked within.
Some 10 minutes into the movie, Karuppi was seen in blood and flesh scattered all over the railway track after she got tied onto it to get hit by a train. Pariyan was still running towards the track, giving his all, but still no where near to save her. He eventually falls on the ground and helplessly watches it all unfold as the shroud of dust descend. The scar, one of many, will remain forever. And so will be the pain. His scream was so deafening that it could have filled that entire barren landscape. But all we could hear was that haunting background score followed by a creepy elegy in the voice of an old woman. As she laments, screen goes black and darkness ensues. …
Some just pour in. Some sneak in. Some would just vanish. Some stay forever. Some haunt us. Some motivate us. Some would improvise, expand and take control. Some would take us back in time and kindle joy or sorrow. Sometimes it is a tad hazy and sometimes, outright vacuum. This is roughly how the schematic of our mind and the torrential flow of thoughts inside, churning out emotions, would look like. A kaleidoscope of emotions or pitch darkness. Chaos or eerie silence.
As we keep juggling with our emotions, we tend to pick the ones that we are more connected to. Then we all employ different methods to refine and stack them for a retrospection with different perspectives and better senses and in the process, dousing the mayhem. I have taken to writing and transforming them all to a form that can be shared to the world. …