My Village Story in Farmer's words

How do u sell your produce at a price you want?

As soon as we get the harvest, the brokers swarm around us. Each of them wants a major share of the produce. But they want to pay us less. They try to fix a price. We generally don't like that price. We do our calculations and we can not come down to a price which is less than the (invested+investment needed). We bargain and get closer to what we want. We sell it off. Some of us keep a portion of produce which will be sold after another season. The older rice fetches more price. Rich farmers do use facilities of Warehouses because they can afford it.

Why do not you go to the market yard?

We can sell only at government fixed rates in the market yards. The quality of rice produced does not matter in the pricing. Over that, we need to take the produce to the market yard and wait till it is sold. We also need to pay bills on each bag sold. Why go to the market yard when we can make a deal with the broker. After hard work on the farm, we do not have the energy to transport and sell our produce.

Don't brokers trouble you?

Why will not they trouble us? They take our produce first. Then they pay us after making us wait. And you know that we prepare for our next crop. We need money for seeds and pesticides. So we take a loan from money lender. The interest rate is around 18% to 40%. After fighting for a better price, we lose the money in the form of interest. It is a double loss for us. This is the big problem with brokers.

I buy from you. Why don't you sell it to the other customers?

You buy because it is from your farm and you know us. Why will some other guy take the pain of coming to our village and buy? There is no platform for us to sell. Most of the customers buy retail rather than wholesale.

If you have a better platform, a better price, will you sell it?

Why not! You are educated. You should help us. These days many things are sold online. Can we do that?

Ended there!

The success of 10000 views in my blog!

                   My blog 'Tomorrow is just another day'  has crossed 10k views. Though it may not have 10k unique readers but I am sure that a pretty good number of people from across the globe are following my blog. 

                    Initially, I never shared my articles on any other social media platform. The reason was I had the fear of rejection. Later, I changed my mind. We see so much trash material going viral - all misconstrued data. Why not, I can share my thoughts too right!

                Once I started sharing, people shared some good thoughts and encouraged me to write more. Some people personal reached out to me and provided their suggestions. I thank every one of them. 

            I thank my friends from Poland, Russia,  Ukraine and Turkey for being among the large portion of readers. I will keep writing and will put each step towards realizing the dream of writing a book on Rayalaseema. 

Seeing Faces

"You see the same face every day but you may never know the name of the face"  said one anonymous guy!

I was riding my motorbike at 9 AM on the road to my school today. I saw a couple of faces and remember them distinctly from my bicycle rides 10 years ago. 10 years was a long time. And 10 years ago, I was studying my tenth standard.

One of those faces was that of Rickshaw puller. Neither I asked his name nor did I talk to him! Because I never did. He was pulling the same rickshaw though it was down and dusted but engaged him. He did all kind of menial jobs - pulling the stones to furniture - everything! He did the job with the same kind of passion. There was no dearth of it. Suddenly, he looked at me. I hoped he recognized me. Alas! No. I questioned myself - why did he not smile at least? I was over beaming my smile to let him know that I recognized him but he did not.

The other face was that of a Shopkeeper. I, along with my friends, used to come to taste mouth watering Mirchi Bajjis and Mysore Bajjis! Even the thought of it is savoring! I stopped by and asked her to serve me a plate of each! As soon as I got the food in my hands I became indulgent!! Suddenly someone yelled my name as if he was going to hit me. That's part of our culture! It was my friend and we talked at length. We talked about how we used to come over here and fight over the payment. But the sad part was that the shopkeeper did not recognize us.

This threw me back. How can someone forget their favorite customers? How can they forget our faces who constantly traveled on the same route as theirs? Then it stuck me that I was not part of their lives and they were. One classic example was that I remember the rest room supervisor in the Qatar airways lounge at the airport. When I say hello to him, he never responded back with the same emotion. I remember because of my frequent Flys through the same route. But for him,  there are many other frequent flyers. He is part of my life and my observation but I am not his because for him it does not matter. Then why should it matter for me?

I can still avoid recognizing people but I can not. Some people remember everything and some people forget names of the people they frequently work with. It happens but again the warm hello to an unknown stranger is always a good habit. 

"What set us apart from other animals is we got a brain which sees, hears, thinks, feels, remembers, dances.... What not!"

Success - Part 6 of the short Story Series 'Missing'

                  "The secrets to success are hard work and luck". My luck is all time low. I will have to work hard to escape this time. How do I?

                    I did not want to run again. I did not want to leave the uncle and get into trouble. I felt that asking for help is the best solution. I talked to uncle and showed him those three guys. I told him my entire story without leaving any of the incidents. The people in the bogie listened to us. People are hurt deeply hearing the atrocities committed by them. Many narrated the stories they here but they never came across the victim. They suggested helping us catch him and hand over him to police. Every one of us hatched a plan. We wanted to teach them a lesson and help the other kids who are captured by them.

                  We knew that the mafia guys would attempt to kidnap only when everyone is asleep. Around 10 PM, we slept off but we did not actually sleep. Around 01:30 AM, after we crossed Dhone Railway Station, all the three guys came to our seat. One of the big guys slowly came towards me. I was sitting beside the uncle but not with the uncle, so the mafia thought it would be an easy job with everyone sleeping and snoring. But what they did not know was some of the guys were capturing those movements in their mobile cameras and some were ready to catch them. We stationed some more on both sides of our seats. The plan was to capture them all and not to let any of those buggers run away.

               As soon as the big guy held me, all the passengers rushed towards us and caught hold of all the three guys. They tried to hit the passengers but passengers were able to capture them all. The guy in whites tried to pull off the trigger off his gun, but the railway police came to our timely help. It was very dramatic and I never saw such an incident in my life. When my teacher taught us "unity is strength", I laughed off but this incident was the perfect example of 'Unity is Strength'.

            We reached Kurnool at 02:15. By then, all the news channels were already in Kurnool railway station. Uncle and I continued our journey to Kachiguda. The police case was filed by the passengers who got down at Kurnool station. I reached Kachiguda station where my parents were waiting for me with garlands. As soon as I got down at the railway station, I ran to my mother and hugged her tightly.

            My Parents appreciated the uncle and expressed their gratitude by promising him to call them if he was ever in need of money to educate his child. My Gundu Boss was all smiles. My happiness just got multiplied. After all those days of torture and depression, I was finally in the warm hands.

           Right now, I am laying on my couch watching the news.  The news was about the Balaji, the mafia leader and the release of abducted children. Some Tirupati policemen involved in child trafficking and child abuse are arrested. My story is on rewind. Passengers in train talked about how courageous I am and how we captured the mafia. NGOs have come forward to support the abused orphans. Some kids are reunited with their families. All good things said about good people by good people. The news channels dubbed my escape from the treacherous mafia gang as 'The great escape of the century' and 'The most courageous step by a small kid'.

I smirked!!! I put forward my first step to change the world! My father hugged me and said 'Get ready for the next'!!!

Journey - Part 5 of the Short Story Series "Missing"

           It was the 18th day. There was a rally near the Sandhya theater. Some people were carrying big cameras. I figured out them to be media. Some people held the broomsticks with their hands. Then I looked at the posters and figured out that they were profiling local politician as part of Swach Bharat campaign. I was beaten up for picking up less plastic last week. They did not have an iota portion of my brain to understand what would have been the case behind the less plastic pickups.

            There was a girl looking at me with a suspicion. Her looks kind of straight and were daunting. I was looking pretty abused and torn. My clothes were very bad. There was mud all over me. I was the poor soul who either got sympathy or got ill-treated. But her looks were very different. As if she was hunting for someone. I ignored her out of avoidance. The sister with me dragged into the middle of the Swach Bharat mess and pinched me and started her extortion from the campaigners. She got her pockets filled. Good day for her I guess. I did not have any hard feelings for her. She was just doing what she was trained to do. She took up begging just to be alive. 

       She got more than she wanted.  So she spent that little extra money on a cool drink and a cigarette. Yes a cigarette!!  Most of them smoke irrespective of gender. This made me think. I came to the terms that we Indians just blow things out of proportion and we must let people live the way they want. While she was savoring on her drink and cigarette, that little girl who was staring at me, dragged me by my hand and kept running.

          For a moment, I was dumbstruck. I did not know what was happening and what would happen. She kept running through the gully which again diverged into more small streets. It was not a slum -  not the slum I knew. I saw small concrete houses.I saw autowalas cleaning their autos. She suddenly took me into a house. The hall was dark. There was a light from the kitchen. She pulled me there. A lady was cooking food. She was the girl's mother. 

         The girl told her mother to give some sweets to me and kept repeating did not he look like my brother. At the moment, I understood all those stares were to confirm that I was her brother. But I was not. Her mother with teary eyes told her that her brother was no more. We heard someone entering the house. My heart pounded fast. I was frightened at the chance of getting caught by that bleeds mafia. I started to scream and ran to hide behind the mother. It was the girl's father. All the three tried talking me to understand why I was so afraid of people. Her father understood that something is wrong with me He asked his wife to bathe me. I got a nice bath which was scarce till then. She put her son's clothes on me. I looked into the mirror. Though I was not close to what I used to look, the bath and clothes put a smile on me. 

          The little girl's father made me eat some food. I was vert happy though I had my fears. He took out the poster which I had in my previous dirty pants. He asked me whether I was the one on the poster?  Not speaking for these many days did hamper my voice. I did not know a way to tell them. But the girl was clever. She got me a book to write. I wrote 'Yes'. He took his mobile and called the number on the poster. My father picked up the phone. My father and the uncle talked at length and they finally decided that the uncle will take me to Hyderabad. The time was 5:30 PM. The uncle and I quickly rushed to the catch the train at 6:30 PM. It was sad that I did not get time to say a proper goodbye to the little girl who helped me. We sat in the general compartment as we did not have time to buy tickets.

       This brings me back to the first part of my story. I am sitting by the window and the uncle beside me clinging to my arm. I am anxious and observant. I do not want to be missed again.We reached Koduru Station. It is a small station. Something unique caught my eyes. I saw the tattoo. The same tattoo of the guy in the whites. He was wandering with the other 2 big guys. I saw his face this time. It is now the most hated face of my life!!! How will I ever reach Hyderabad?

Finding kleptomaniac - The Background!!!

       You read it right... It was a sort of big adventure. I never went in search of a person. What made this adventure more challenging was we were in search of a kleptomaniac who is a dumb and deaf thief! This may look surreal and fictional but it is a true story to detail.

      His name is Subbu. He is 19 years. He is dumb and deaf. He lost his parents when he was young. His mother because of birth related issues and his father due to liver damage caused by alcohol. He stays with his mother's brother.

     14 months back, he started working at my aunt's house in Kadapa. My Aunt is a very nice woman. She does not even harm an insect. She took care of him well as he is dumb and deaf as well as an orphan. He used to sleep in the same house. My brother has even bought him an hearing machine.

    He traveled with my aunt's family everywhere they go. I gave him money whenever he asked me and same was the case with my aunt My mother liked him too. Though he was from other community, we never illtreated him.

   It all started in August 2015. When I visited my Aunt's House, I lost around 4k but I never doubted him. Peddamma and Peddananna traveled with us to Hyderabad and Subbu also traveled with them. The very night we reached home,  he bought a new smartphone. You would be thinking what will DnD do with a smartphone. This guy is a clever DnD. I had doubts but my opinion about him was so good that it made me think that he bought it with his money. This is the first instance, I made a mistake.

    In December 2015, my brother was installing Saraswathi Vigraham(statue)  in the govt high school which was built by our grandfather. My elder brother has asked Subbu to get the books so that he can donate them to the school students. When he got the books, he searched for 2000 INR which he kept in the books but could not find the money. He asked Subbu about it but Subbu denied taking the money. My elder brother's opinion about Subbu was so good that he thought the money would have fallen off. This is the second mistake, this time it was my brother's.

   In January 2016, Subbu stole a gold chain in his relative's House. He was also able to draw bank loan on collateral. No one can imagine a DnD can do that but he did. He took the money and traveled to Secunderabad and then to Kolkata. He spent all money and got nowhere to go. He came back. His relatives manhandled him and his uncle has to write a financial bond with the bank and return the gold chain. Then only we recognized,  he is a thief. But again on request of my brother,  my Peddamma took him for work. This is the third mistake.

   On Feb 21, My uncle got to know that 34000 INR was missing from his purse which he kept aside to pay a bill. And Subbu was nowhere to be found!!!!

Intelligence - Part 4 of the short story series 'Missing'

                   The constable carried me on his shoulders. I could see behind his back. I saw many kids younger than me. They were lean and had mud all over them. There were small babies who were sleeping in the dirty ramshackle of the make-shift huts. This particular scene made me cry and made me realize that something bad would happen to me. To get out of this situation, I started shouting and crying at the top of my voice but there was no one noticing me. My cry grew louder and louder. All of a sudden,  I felt a prick on my neck and became unconscious!

                   I woke up and found no one around. The place was dark with bad odor. Sunlight barged in through the small bullet holes on the door. I went closer to the door. Through those holes, I could see the pain lashed on kids. There were two men behind a small statured person who was in whites and had gold chains around his neck. He was the boss. Though he was only 5 4, his persona was scary. The way he grinned his teeth, itself scares the hell out of anyone. His elbows had big scars and those were ostentatious. There was a tattoo on the broad side of his right elbow. It was not visible clearly. As I was looking through those holes, he turned towards the door. 

           He ordered his men to get me. They walked towards the door. My spirit did not die yet and I was waiting for those bloody goons to open the door. Having watched Chota Bheem daily, I was pretty sure I would tackle them. As told by my mother, every kid has the strength of Anjaneya Swamy(Hanuman) and intelligence of Lord Krishna, I particularly felt that I had some special powers. Convinced, I made a plan to run as fast as Usain Bolt and as swift as an Eagle. Even if one of those bulldogs hold me, I would beat him blue and red. But the reality was different. I ran as soon as one of the big guys opened the door. The second guy caught my hand. I bit him with my teeth. This made him angry,  he immediately slapped me on my face. His hand hit me very hard. I could not hear a thing. All I could feel was the tears rolling on my cheeks. No one ever hit me. All the strength this Chota Bheem had vanished in the air. As my ears started working again, I puked. I was unable to control my emotions. I was crying like those helpless kids. 

           The small guy in the whites walked towards me. I still could not see his tattoo as my eyes were moist. I heard him saying to other 2 guys to not to break any bone and put me onto picking up plastic waste. The 2 big guys took some days to train my mind so that I listen to them. I was a bird in the cage and I danced to their tunes. There was no escape. I was first put to pick up plastic along the Gandhi road under supervision of fellow pickers. Then in the subsequent days, we were moved to KT Road. What I understood from this, was that they were trying to brainwash me. But I missed my mother's love and father's helping hands. I kept looking around to find ways to escape. But I could not. I did not find any platform. All these days, I never spoke to anyone as I did not believe anyone. I was kept told a story. The story was that my poor uncle was taking care of me after I lost my parents in an accident. That poor uncle did not have money to provide food for his family and me. I resorted to begging/picking to help his family. Apart from the story, there was an actual uncle, aunt and his kids. All arranged by the mafia.

           11 days passed. I was dark and dusted. No one could recognize me. I became deaf and dumb by choice. I was reduced to nothing but a picking machine. The head was convinced that I was part of his team. He put me to begging at Sandhya Theatre. Though I felt uncomfortable, a girl child was dragging me to every place. She was given more money because I was with her. You can imagine how I looked. I was lean and looked like a hanging skeleton. I saw missing posters near the theater. The posters were mine! My photo, my age, contact to call and a message were on the poster. But again, I was not looking like what I was 12 days back. But I pull down one of the posters and kept in my pocket. I did not know at that moment that it was the most intelligent step I have taken after all these days wasted.

Hope - Part 3 of the Short Story Series 'Missing'

          I kept shouting 'nanna'  'nanna'  on top of my voice.  No one heard me. My voice was dead. I kept running and running but did not find my family. Tears rolled down my cheeks. How could I find them when I am a small guy with a dead voice and small red eyes which can only see a small world. Suddenly, I was caught by my hand.  The little dying hope was fired. But to my disappointment, it was a constable!

       

        He repeatedly asked me who I was, What I was running for! I wanted to speak my heart out but can not spit the words out. I am in a trauma. A trauma which I never experienced. A trauma, so engulfing, that it took my voice. Literally,  the experience made me a dumb lifeless human.

        

       He took me to a place. He gave me some water and made me relax. I told him everything in the hope of meeting my family. But my fate had another twist. The constable changed his clothes and took me out. He was in a hurry. I was silent in the hope of meeting my parents and I kept looking for my parents. I saw many doppelgangers. We reached our destination. It was far from the main temple. This area looked backward. The men looked scary and the women were with scars on their faces. By now, I understood that I was in wrong hands and it is going to be Rollercoaster ride.

But "Hope is a good thing may be best of the things and no good thing ever dies"!

Run - Part 2 of the Short Story Series 'Missing'

                        I did not try to remember the names of the stations which have passed by as I am not concerned about them. My only goal is to reach Kachiguda railway station. Oh, I forgot to tell you how I got missed right. It starts right at Kachiguda station.

                        My father and my mother wanted to go to Tirumala for my sister's Thala Nelalu(offering of hair). My grandma,  grandpa, aunts and uncles joined us forming a big entourage. I was excited about the trip as I get to take leave and as well as I get to taste the Tirupathi Laddu. I wanted to take Kashvi with me to Tirupathi. Kashvi is my benchmate and is a very naughty girl. Sadly, her mother turned down my request to take her with me. I guess if she was with me in the train, she would be crying all the time and scaring the shit out of me. So,  we took Venkatadri express to Tirumala. The train started at 20 05 and reaches Tirupathi at 07 30. It was night and I was not getting sleep because of a pray group on the next compartment. They were reciting Keerthanas all night. I do not understand how the God understands them.

                         I have a Muslim friend who speaks Urdu. He prays to his God in Urdu. I pray to our gods in Telugu. I have a Marwadi friend who prays to the same gods I pray in his mother tongue. How does God understand all the languages?  Does each God has a designated language?  How about sign language? If he understands every language,  then he has to be the father of Google translator. But there was no Google search engine a decade ago or a century ago. Then what is God?

                          We will come back to it later after I complete my story. So I was not getting sleep and I did not sleep the entire night. As soon as we stepped in Tirumala, We went to Income Tax guest house -  one of pros of being part of Government services. Within no time, we were ready and were at Tirumala. We got a VIP pass because my father had contacts. So we were lucky to have everything arranged but everyone would not be that lucky right. So,  this is what I do not understand,  if you want to meet someone and that someone is the king of your religion. That king has to treat everyone the same and everyone should go through  the same ordeal right?  Who am I to comment!!

                                     We completed our Darshan. My sister is looking very beautiful with a tonsured head. I kept teasing her - calling her 'Gundu' - 'Gundu Boss' .  As part of our Darshan,  we got some laddus. My father wanted to buy some more laddus and me too. I just kept following my dad to laddu counter. He wanted to carry me so that I don't get missed in the flood of people. But I am adamant and I kept telling him I am a big kid and he need not worry about me. For some time, My dad kept looking back to confirm if I am following him. I was. Near laddu counter building, there were too many people. Suddenly, I lost sight of my dad. I got frightened. At the far end, I found dad walking. I ran towards him.

It was not my dad - a look alike!!!

Miss - Part 1 of the Short Story Series 'Missing'

                               It is a winter evening. The breeze from the feet of Lord Venkateswara is hitting my forehead, calming my nerves and pushing me into a deep sleep. But I should not sleep. Not now at least as I will be missed again. The general compartment in the Venkatadri express is so crampy. I see a lot of tonsured heads, a lot of smiling faces and kids savoring the world famous Tirupathi laddus. This reminds me of yesterday's morning. My mother treated me to the laddu with her loving hands. 

           
                              I miss resting my head on my mother's lap and slipping into sleep dreaming about being spiderman. Spiderman reminds current me. Just that he did not know that he had parents and I can not find my parents.

                             My name Y Veera Venkata Sai Balaji. I hate having a long name. Call me Balu, ABCDEFG. I am 6 years old. I am studying in the first standard at Johnson grammar school. We stay in Sweet Home apartments in Tanaka. Thank God for giving me teachers who make me by heart who I am and where I am from. Because these details come handy when I am missing.......

Part I of my new short story...Hope you like it and Encourage me to write more!

Suicide Note

                                    I finished my third full-length EAMCET exam for medicine at Sri Chaitanya college in BHEL. I tried my best to do well in the exam. The last two tests were an utter failure. My poor English and Telugu medium education are making it difficult for me to understand the lectures and in turn making my life worse in consuming the textbooks. I put 200% effort to do well in the exam but I am not sure why I am not doing well.  A bad report on the current test results will relegate me to the last section in the college.

I was very hardworking and good student in school.  I was topper of my Mandal in the SSC results.  Everyone had confidence in me that one day I would be proud son of my parents. I come from an economically backward family of a forward caste of a least developed region of Telangana. My parents are agricultural labourers. We are three siblings and I am the eldest of them. I believed that if I set a right example then brother and sister would follow me. My parents believed only education can help us out of our misery.

But the fate had a different story for me. I did not do well in the test. I am now in the last section in our batch. After topping classes year after year in school,  it feels sad to be the last of the batch. Even then I did not lose hope. I sat down on the empty first bench of the last class.  The fight is still on. I concentrated more,  read more,  followed every lecture with a follow-up notes making. I kept encouraging myself even when I am low on confidence.  There came another test.  I did well. Yes,  I did well in my class but when compared to others I am still a way behind. Tests after tests,  situation did not change. Probably I never learnt.  Probably I will never learn.

It was summer and the end of my first year at junior college. I lost the hope of getting a medicine seat. I talked about it with my friend from the first section. He was poor like me but talented.  The thing is that he is not interested in medical education and did not have any aspiration to be a doctor. According to him,  Doctors are blood sucking leeches. His views are his but I think he can be a good doctor if he works hard for the entrance exam.

I returned home for the summer. I had all the books with me. I started studying in the summer again. My mother and father are working under the scorching sun so that they can pay for our food. One day,  the head of the village visited our house. It's not a nice visit.  He has come to ask the money he lent.  The money which paid my first-year education.  The amount for which interest has doubled. My father pleaded him to give him some more time so that he could arrange for it. I kept thinking about it. What does my father have to repay the money back?

We got 3 cows. They can sell for a maximum of 50000. It does not even pay half of the money lent. How will my father get another loan for my second year? And I am not doing well at all. I talked to my mother that I will stop my education and work along with them. My mother did not like it. She wants her son to be a doctor. I am more worried than ever. I do not want to be the wrong example for my siblings. I tried again and talked to my father and mother. They do not want their son to miss the privilege of having a good education at the expense of their financial inability to support it. They are the only ones I have.

I do not know what to do.  I do not want my parents to struggle further. I do not want my family to have debts mounting for a futile cause. Though I tell my parents,  they would not listen. Once my siblings come to junior college,  the burden is going to triple. I do not want to be the burden anymore. And I can not run away from them. I can not stay with them and see their suffering. I can not go to college and create a financial hurdle to my family. What should I do now? 

Oh God,  here I come!!!

Dilwale - The Movie Review

Movie:                                    Dilwale
Theater:                                  Khaleel, Nandyal
Show Time:                            21 00 to 00 00, 18/12/2015
Theater Feel:                          3 out of 5 (5 being best)
Movie Rating:                        1.5 out of 5 (5 being best)
Overall Impact on Audience: 2.25 (5 being best)

Hero:                                Shah Rukh Khan, Varun Dhawan
Heroine:                           Kajol, Kriti Sanon
Villain:                             Boman Irani
Director and Screenplay: Rohit Shetty
Writer:                             Yunus Sajawal
Music Director:                Amar Mohile and Pritam
Editor:                              Bunty Nagi


Dilwale is only for Dilwale. I went in with high expectations though I did not like the trailer. Did the movie reach my expectations?

StoryLine :

A Buried Love story, by a huge misunderstanding, revisited after 15 years through a young love. Will they bury the hatchet and fight the old demons?

MainStory :

The story begins in an auto garage in Goa and ends in an auto garage. Shahrukh loves Varun  though Varun is not his brother and apparently Varun does not know that. The bromance between SRK and Varun was the epitome of the story. Varun meets Kriti and both fall in love. To our predictable surprise,  she is the sister of Karol but original ha.  Kajol does not accept their love.

There is a parallel flashback shown in the movie which runs in Sofia, Bulgaria.  Kajol and SRK both offsprings of rivaling mafia dons fall in love after a series of incidents.  Kajol's father does not like this and a fight ensues in Kajol's home. The end result of the fight is Kajol's shoots SRK as she believes SRK cheated her and killed her father.

Back to the present,  after some incidents Kajol and SRK pair up.  Kajol knows the truth ultimately. And they bond. An unnecessary and non-comical track of Johnny lever and Boman  Irani runs in the movie.

Movie Review:

The plot is usual. It is all predictable. The movie shines here and there. Only SRK did the acting. Kriti was unnecessary. Any other heroine would have done the same job as there is less scope. Varun Dhawan overacts.Music is good.

What the movie misses terribly is - Comedy, bad editing, poor screenplay and usual story. It is not even one-time watch.

Editing and Screenplay are not at their usual good too. Rohit Shetty has done a bad job in action sequences too.


Movie Fact: After watching the movie, Dilwale can never be logical Dilwale.

Tollywood Movies of the Year 2015

War and Epic

Baahubali
Rudrama Devi

Family
Srimanthudu
S/o satyamurthy
Gopala Gopala
Pandaga chesko
Jil

Feel good
Bhale Bhale magadivoy
Evade subramanyam
Surya vs surya
Malli Malli edi rani roju
Kanche

Comedy
Pataas
Lion
James bond

Koray Avci Sen - Izmir

I shot some small clips over 3 days. I did not have anything in mind but Sen by Koray was so beautiful that I wanted to pay tribute to the song in some form. So, I created this video.

This Video is shot completely in OnePlus X. The editing is done in Movie Maker. I generally edit in Sony Vegas Pro but my software is expired now.

Hope you enjoy this video and particularly my Turkish Friends :) Tesekkuler.

Panorama of Incredible India

The video was created by me in April 2013 for a leadership summit at my firm. I edited a bit to be fit enough for youtube viewers to watch.

The video covers Dance forms, temples, gods/goddesses, Cuisine, animals, music, festivals and picturesque locations of different states and India as a whole.

My main intention was to show the diversity in India through a video. I used Incredible India 2013 commercial. The same can be found in the below link.

Share it, like it and subscribe my channel if you really like it :)