Feast

That constellation you have hidden in your heart. That latticework in which you hold a child's love.

May the light always be.

Who is dancing into the night?

A Darling Monsoon, There.

Step out into that right time of the evening and a rain-soaked breeze embraces you. Life slows down on such nights. An occasional vehicle headlight lits up the trail of water droplets on the window - someone must dance on such nights, swaying to the slowest fingers on the piano.

It is with a conflicted heart, you travel the night rain. You, who finds numerous ways to be annoyed by the pulse of the city during the day, fall for its charms now. "Where have you been, where have you been?"

You glide on neon roads. The carpets of light hold the rain in their hearts. 

(I have written about rain before, here.)

Belled Rebels

What haven't we written about?
The pebbles that dried in the evening sun? The tide that went out? The notion of being passionate about a lighthouse out there?

It is not hard to talk about freedom and clarity. Your silence was not bought.

What haven't we done?

To The Swan

A window opens into the backyard. Bird songs. I think about the desert winds I have neither written about nor seen. A book about the caravans and their battles is on its way to me.

In a sunlit room, on a swinging bed, a warm afternoon, your voice drifting towards me from the entrance to this home. I wait in a place between a smile and a longing. I had stories to tell and you are finally here.

A mother and her baby in a tiny place somewhere.

Sighs

 

We walk in a breeze of thoughts, in a pool of long lost friendships, in echoes of conversations, in footsteps of autumns.

That We Do

The glory of basking in the warm sunlight. Serenity from nature. Reaching out. Growing green.
Fading ray by ray, in front of our very eyes.

Much of our silence and most of our voice. Echoing off the canyon walls. Dry, arid lands. Barren. Cracked. Deserted.

The birds. Do they survive the long flights, with no branches in sight to rest a wing on? The depth of the silence, if not for them. Falling feather by feather.

 Never let go. 

Have We Talked About This Before?

Window of a rickety bus.
Muddy road, stinging eyes
In the hot summer wind.
I feel your shoulder
Grazing mine when we turn a corner.

Railings of a wooden bridge.
Silent river, silent thoughts
On a lovely autumn evening.
And I hear your footsteps
Bringing your reflection closer to me.

Cotton papered pages.
Crimson sunset, nervous fingers
After words after words after words.
From across the room, your laughter
Stealing me away from lonely stories.

I sometimes imagine
The tiniest gesture, the softest jolt
That breaks my deepest longing -
A glance from you.

The Lady in Red.

Our Journey

Early morning sun shone on her and the river blushed. That is how this journey began, many many moons ago.

I love that I love photography. It has brought precious moments and amazing people my way.

The foggy hills of Sri Lanka and the coldest monsoon in Kerala - I don't know if to live the moment or to capture it is more fulfilling. I am going to try to grow through the world you see and freeze.

My journey is mine, but it is for you, for the realization that gazing out on a sunset in silence or watching the flight of a solitary bird across the vast sky is what makes hearts feel alive.

There are a million angles to seeing the same scene. I am always amazed by the ease with which you bring out the brilliance in everything around you.
I thank you, passionate photographers, for your existence.

Open

I will not be broken-hearted
If you refuse to look at me.
Life is sometimes like a sky somewhere
Where birds don't fly free.

Present Past

One needs to get out more often to see how the world is set in motion.
Discovering relics of the past is a wonderful moment indeed, but so is being part of the present. A blend of both, here.

The kid grew up.

The cows were sold, the barn empty and barred.

The sun gets stubborn. The afternoon nap.

Bridges to Burn, May We have None

Kerrville, Texas

Panakkad, Kerala

The Perfect Crown

Try, try and try, and you shall succeed.

For Dreams to Come True

It rains there. Life is the tango of lovers. Slow and sensuous flow of million streams of water.

And then it rains here. The thousand vapours lit up in the headlights of a car. Life is a breathtaking assault of windy waterdrops, drenching, churning, drowning and then, dripping.

What is your rain?

Perspective

When life turns upside down...

...take a shot anyway!

wishing and hoping

Where will you take me? Valley of bluebonnets? Singing crystal spring? Wild flowers blooming wild? Tall trees and sunlit leaves?

I shall cross the seven seas and all the mountains in between.
Take me to my sweetheart.

Terrains

Another journey. Another rain. Take me home, the roads whisper. Take me where you have never been.

  

Phoenix

Aren't we all baked in our own fires - embers to flames to ashes - only to rise again!

Euphoria

You can hear the immense silence within yourself as you stand drenched near the foot of the roaring, cascading falls.
Niagara does that to you.

A short walk in the State Park. The Spirit of 3 Sisters Island. The grass is soft under your feet, the wild flowers are just beginning to bloom under a spring sun. And then there is the water. Gallons of it.

If you have had a brief moment in time when you experience sheer power, this is where it is.

Silhouette

So, I was walking with me, and I looked ahead and saw this perfect sunset over the city.

Hope you love this glimpse.

may Spring follow a Summer