Reverie
A window full of sunlight, a single flower, radiant in its life-affirming presence, and my better half who had woken up not that long ago. Not the most elaborate of setups for a portrait session!
I don’t know much about angles or techniques, I just followed the light. It danced on her face, weaving shadow and glow, and all I did was press the shutter.
Time and again I realize that photography (or any art for that matter) isn’t about perfection. It’s about noticing—the way sunlight transforms a room, the way a smile unfolds naturally, the way something so simple can feel so extraordinary.
Maybe that’s all we need: light, stillness, and a heart open to what unfolds. Because in moments like these, I’m not just taking a picture—I’m learning how to see.
Colors of Love
The room is brightly lit, light from the tube lights spilling over the colors and coloring sheet on the coffee table that is now a makeshift art hub. Outside, winter presses its icy fingers against the windowpane, but inside, warmth radiates from the quiet joy of togetherness. A mother and her toddler sit on their respective chairs, one big, the other small, their faces mirroring each other’s delight.
The toddler grips a coloring pen, his tiny fingers smudged with a rainbow of colors. “Mama, look!” he exclaims, pointing to the yellow sun God he has colored. The mother smiles, her heart swelling with a love too vast to name. She is busy coloring other bits of the sheet, a deity’s feet, an auspicious motif—letting her colors dance alongside his. The father gets busy, trying to capture these moments for eternity.
Laughter spills into the room, mingling with the fragrance of fresh flowers brought that evening. In these simple moments, life feels complete—a reminder that joy doesn’t need grand gestures, just a shared home, a warm heart, and the brilliance of a child’s colors.
Dino days
They are everywhere. On the WFH desk, the dining table, the living room sofa. They peek out from obscure corners, eyes watching our every move. They are in the books being devoured, in the fossils being meticulously unearthed with the best friend from the neighbourhood, who is constantly reminded of the finer points of prehistoric life she’s unaware of. They are in the sun catchers shimmering with fresh coats of paint and in the movies and web series playing on an endless loop, every detail being memorised.
For him, this truly is the summer of the dinosaurs, and his dad is savouring every moment of it.
The blurred ones are the best ones perhaps
A summer evening, a neighbourhood park, and seemingly everyday moments which will become a treasure trove of memories long after the evening is over.
Location: Ghaziabad, India
Clicked: June 15, 2024
Posted: June 19, 2024
(All images are private and copyrighted. Please don’t use without permission.)The Other Pune
Roaming the streets of Old Pune is like stepping into a different era. Here, time seems to linger, allowing one to savor each moment. The light doesn't gleam off modern structures but filters softly through the ancient banyans, casting dappled shadows. This part of the city isn't characterized by hurried steps or the constant buzz of technology. Instead, the air is filled with the sweet melody of life: the jingle of bells from the sugarcane juice stalls, the distant laughter of children playing, and the rhythmic clatter of a local artisan at work. The streets are a mosaic of colors and textures, from the vibrant clothes drying on balconies to the intricate patterns of old doors. Every corner offers a new visual symphony, a story waiting to be told. As I meandered through these lanes with my camera, I wasn't just capturing images; I was preserving the essence of a Pune that exists parallel to, yet so distinctly from, its modern counterpart. Each photograph I took is a tribute to this 'Other Pune' – a world where the past and present coexist in a beautiful, timeless dance.
Khajuraho - a photo essay
Come, step inside. Here reigns immortality.
Come, step inside. Here reigns immortality. Vishnu, Shiva…Gods of gods, one the nurturer, the other the destroyer. I enter the sanctum, bow before them, intricately carved heavenly dames and celestial creatures looking at me from the ceiling, and I hope some of their everlastingness rubs off on me.
On the outside, plays mortality.
On the outside, plays mortality. Human life, in all its glory, people singing, dancing, playing, getting ready, having sex, taking care of children, battles and wars…men, women, animals, animate, inanimate, everything life has to offer, painted with a chisel on stone. I stand in front of some carvings, marvelling at the details, the sheer effort it would have taken. I gawk at the erotic bits, smiling sheepishly, and look around to see everyone doing the same. Stepping back in awe, silence overpowers me as if something more significant than man brushed my elbow on the way to eternity.
Famous across the globe for their unique sculptures, the UNESCO World Heritage temples at Khajuraho hold a different meaning for me.
They are an ode to the unique Hindu worldview, where life is equal parts devotion and playfulness, where creation and destruction feed into each other, where mortality and immortality go hand in hand, carved on a simple block of sandstone on a simple temple wall.