Celluloid of Self

I don't like linear, continuous writing, so to create a sense of discreteness, will describe five shots from the film that will be made on me:

1. A chipped full-length mirror, in a South Kolkata damp-walled bedroom. A crumpled mosquito net in one corner of the bed, and starched saris folded in a pile in the other.

2. An orange-candy man in the Loudon-Rawdon Street crossing, wiping sweat. Girls in French plaits, and pleated blue and green and red skirts and white keds, slurping orange candy, around him. Lanky boys in white-now-muddy-pulled-out-at-lunchtime shirts, cackling in clusters, nudging each other.

3. Rains and eucalyptuses. Running for shelter. A wet, filter-broken cigarette.
4. A mountain-bike, with a perturbed brake, ribboning the Sahyadris on a cold night. The headlights of a truck from the other side on the milestone number. Written in Gujarati.
5. Swift hands sift through papers coming out of a Xerox machine. Punch holes on the left side, and slip a green thread through the holes. A file.

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