Beauty is absolute..

365photos 2011, photography

with ..

or without colour..

(The Gulmohar or Royal Poinciana or the Flame tree is one of my favorite blooms of summer so expect to be bored with lots more shots of this one in the next month)

Also sorry about the barrage of posts. I had them lined up but did not get time to upload over the weekend. More can be good sometimes, right?


of promises kept..

musings, photography, Travel

There are times in life when we need a do-over ..or rather we are forced to have one..
Dreams are shattered..
Plans don’t work out..
Priorities need adjustments..
or a complete change in life expectations needs to be made
and we are left with..what now?

These are hard times and there is no one or nothing to blame except circumstances. While going through one of these, I made a promise to myself sometime ago..
At that point I was so devastated that I did not think I could keep that promise for years to come..
but I did..
and more than anything.. it was a lesson in self discovery..
that we are far more stronger and resilient than we give ourselves credit with..
that we aren’t easily defeated..

I did go to Venice..
without my guy.. which was what I had dreamt about as a starry eyed 16 year old..
but kids don’t know everything … ­čÖé

technically wrong..

randomness, Self

Some famous person said ‘there is no truth, only perception’..
I like to hear that.. it makes a lot of wrongs relatively right..
it makes it possible to believe that no matter how many mistakes one makes, as long as they perceive the outcome right, there’s hope of redemption..

Just like the photo.. it has lots of technical errors.. but the outcome works for me. It keeps my memory of that stark moment alive.. Something so bright, causing so much darkness.
Technically midday is the worst time to take photos in terms of available light. Ever noticed the trees at that time? They look almost black and dull. The sun is at its brightest, but instead of lighting up, it causes darkness..

playing with words, you say ? That’s what I do..

I measure every grief I meet..

photography, Self


I measure every grief I meet
With analytic eyes;
I wonder if it weighs like mine,
Or has an easier size.

I wonder if they bore it long,
Or did it just begin?
I could not tell the date of mine,
It feels so old a pain.

I wonder if it hurts to live,
And if they have to try,
And whether, could they choose between,
They would not rather die.

I wonder if when years have piled–
Some thousands–on the cause
Of early hurt, if such a lapse
Could give them any pause;

Or would they go on aching still
Through centuries above,
Enlightened to a larger pain
By contrast with the love.

The grieved are many, I am told;
The reason deeper lies,–
Death is but one and comes but once
And only nails the eyes.

There’s grief of want, and grief of cold,–
A sort they call ‘despair,’
There’s banishment from native eyes,
In sight of native air.

And though I may not guess the kind
Correctly yet to me
A piercing comfort it affords
In passing Calvary,

To note the fashions of the cross
Of those that stand alone
Still fascinated to presume
That some are like my own.

-Emily Dickinson