Paparazzi

The wait seemed like eternity; he hadn't moved from his vantage point since he set up his equipment a few hours ago.Timing was critical.He knew that he had to act with stealth and perfect timing if he had to pull it off.

Source : img.movieberry.com

A single wrong move, and he'd be in trouble...well, not really as he had his "friends" in really high places who could get him out with a single phone call. but yes,his hours of planning and stalking would all be for nought.

Yes, the life of a paparazzi was no bed of roses; but it  required a certain degree of courage and passion , not to mention patience. 

He would spend days following his target, monitoring his/her every move, appointments , residence, friends, none escaped his eye.There was a certain thrill to it, akin to a predator stalking his prey. His adrenaline would go into overdrive when they tried to avoid him by covering their faces, entering through back doors and going past deserted alleyways. He wasn't always successful though ; there were those few times when he'd been escorted off the property of some famous personalities, broken camera lens in tow;and sometimes a nosebleed or two, even an occasional black eye...but he wasn't one to give up.

One must eat. I do believe that hunger makes man do extraordinary things, and in his case, it involved getting pictures of famous personalities in their most vulnerable state.

Today was no different, the stage was set, and the show about to begin. Finally, a luxury sedan appeared in the driveway, the windows were rolled down, the perfect chance! He adjusted the lens, taking care not to make any movement to draw attention. The car drew nearer ....Snap! Done! he thought aloud in his excitement which attracted the security guards' attention... Time to go! He took off in a flash; lens,camera and all, climbing over the compound wall in the process, before disappearing into the busy evening crowd...

The Wannabe

Photocredit : ericatwitts.wordpress.com

"What about the children Jared?"
"What about them?"
"Who's going to take care of them till I get out?"
"Don't worry about that Hannah, I got it covered; I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise! "

CUT!

"Good show today people!! Nicole, can you come into my office for a minute?"
"You were good today! I'll pass your tape to our producer , I'll get back to you if you make the cut."

She smiled ,and left the set...
"I'll get back to you if you make the cut..."
How many times had she heard this line? 5? 10 ? She couldn't really tell....
After all, with the number of auditions she'd done , who could?

"Study hard, and you will one day make it big in life" her parents used to tell her...
How she longed to go back home, to set things right...but she couldn't ; not after she had stolen the money her father used to keep in the drawer ... "just in case you need it ", he used to say... So technically, she didn't steal the money , after all, she needed it...she'd pay them back once she became a star!! But yet, there was this guilt that pricked her day after day...

As she headed home , she stopped by a pav stall, this poor man's bread was her daily sustenance; she had to adjust her expenses on food if she had to stay in a decent neighbourhood...Besides,once she made it big, she could eat whatever she wanted,a small sacrifice compared to the success she would one day become...
The city could be a real harsh place for a single woman in her prime years...

She reached her tenement at the end of the road; the door creaked open...it wasn't a very great place, but it was all she could afford with her slim pickings, playing the role of an extra in film songs...
The dim, eerie glow of a kerosene lamp kept the place lit at night...a mosquito coil burning in a corner of the room kept away the bloodsucking insects....

The Beggar by the road

Photocredit : dpexpert.com.au

He sat there by the wall overlooking the road;in his rags and tatters and messy state one could easily have mistook him for a gunny bag on the pavement....his sense of hygiene had left him the day he emerged out of the sanctity of the womb into the outside world of the gutters...His hair had never seen blade, and his skin rough as animal skin; from him emanated a stench that would make even sewers smell like a spring field....

People passed by him without a care, sometimes just treating him as if he were a stone or some similar obstacle in their path.A few would look at him and think "Oh my! How can he be so filthy!" or "why can't these people just disappear!" and walk on, to perform their daily errands. Few of the more compassionate kind would drop a coin or two in the rusty tin placed beside him...enough for him to buy a pack of biscuits or if lucky, a loaf of bread at the end of the day to satiate his hunger...

He had been beaten and chased by a constable once or twice, but the pangs of hunger and the desire of survival are strong in the less fortunate;a day or two later he would return, to his spot by the wall...sitting with pleading eyes,searching for a bit of compassion from his fellow human beings...

Colors in the street

He sat by the sidewalk, chalk in hand....
What would he draw today?

He worked from dawn to dusk, his hands moving deftly,
each stroke creating a streak of vivid color
upon the gray canvas before him...

Often people would stop by and watch him work, giving nods of approval...
others who felt sympathy, would toss a coin or two into the tattered hat he had placed by his side.

But not everyday in his life was without event ; sometimes onlookers would jeer at him or brush his work away, at other times it was mother nature herself with the rains or wind...Nonetheless, he'd let out a sigh and start over, with the same fervor, on a new work of art...

At the end of the day, he would pack up, chalks, earnings and all, his work now at the mercy of nature's elements...