picture – Page 4 – Amrit Panigrahy

Dome Diaries – Prologue

Dome Diaries Navigator – Prologue || Part I || Part II || Part III || Epilogue

There, a brief but bright lightning far away and on my right side. One more, this time slightly closer and in the front. And as I press the accelerator, dry leaves fly on to my path and get illuminated in front of the headlamps. The winds are picking up and I can feel the crosswinds on my steering wheel. Most probably an end of summer thunderstorm. It has been dark for some time now and this stretch of road is narrow, as it passes through a reserve forest. Bad time and place to get caught in rains!

And my desk phone rang. It was the client. Damn! I was day-dreaming, again, lost in my thoughts as I stared at my desktop monitor. As if I had been teleported to one of the scenes from my recent solo road-trip.

A scene which looked like this!

This happens every time I come back from a trip. As if my heart stays outside the city limits, and refuses to come back in with me. And then, it keeps calling me to get out on my next trip!

This one was a long weekend road-trip. Long weekends are meant for travel, because I have recently realized that sleeping is too lazy. I realize things late, like thirty-odd-years late. Anyways, I thought of taking Pearl (that’s what I call my Scorpio; and yes, it is perfectly normal behavior!) out to stretch her legs a bit. And when you take a Scorpio out to stretch its legs, the most important thing it needs is leg room. My Pearl is no different! I decided 400kms one side was just enough leg room Pearl would need for stretching. So, Bijapur it was!

For starters, Bijapur (presently known as Vijayapura, in Karnataka, India) was the erstwhile capital of the Adil Shahis, one of the five Sultanates that the Bahamani kingdom broke into. It will not be an exaggeration if I call Bijapur as the “City of Domes”, because of the hundred odd small and big domes that dot the city’s skyline.

I have been reading about history of ancient and medieval India for some time now. It fascinates how (un)related events of India of the past that shaped up the India of today, are (conveniently) ignored by our history books. Few weeks ago, I had written a small piece on drawing parallels during medieval India, and called it “Drawing Parallels”. You can read it here.

The reason I chose Bijapur was because of the role it played in our history that shaped our present. After all, Adil Shahis of Bijapur stayed sovereign for two centuries. The same two centuries when Vijayanagara to the south, the Marathas to the west and the Mughals to the north were vying for control of the same piece of land.

Join me in a series of posts titled “Dome Diaries”, in the coming days. I will try to comprehend the later Adil Shahis of Bijapur, and their fascination for grand mausoleums, architectural marvels that are Gol Gombuz and Ibrahim Rouza, discover their religious inclinations (Adil Shahi rulers came from both sides of the Muslim community – the Shias and the Sunnis), and if possible, also their diplomacy and military might.

Dome Diaries Navigator – Prologue || Part I || Part II || Part III || Epilogue

In frame: A narrow stretch of empty road lit by my car’s headlamps and shot on mobile (No! I was not using the mobile while driving). This stretch of road was between Kalaburgi (Gulbarga as it is presently known), Karnataka and Hyderabad, Telengana, in India.

VERY IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Yes, you can share this work with proper attribution. But, please seek permission before using this work (not including the photo), partially or fully. YOU CAN NOT USE THE PHOTO. Believe me, asking is better than ending up in court or facing public shaming on social media. Thanks for understanding.

I was there…. Waiting for you!

I waited there, under our pine tree,
And I went there for many more days,
Hoping you would come one day.

It was futile, I was told,
And that you would never be back.
But, I wanted to give it a try.

I wanted to give it a try,
Just so when my time comes,
I won’t feel that I did not wait enough.

And when I realized many springs later,
That you would never come,
I left there the scarf you had given me.

The scarf, my only piece of memory of you,
For it had your scent, as fresh as dew,
It was the only thing that I had of you.

As I wanted to let you know,
Just in case you showed up..
….That…

I was there…. Waiting for you!

————————————————

DISCLAIMER: Penned by yours truly, this poem is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

In frame: A ritualistic scarf tied to a pine tree in the Himalayas, on the way from Naitala to Guptakashi, in Uttarakhand, India. I found small temples dedicated to local Gods as well as such ritualistic things, common place in the Himalayas.

VERY IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Yes, you can share this work with proper attribution. But, please seek permission before using this work (not including the photo), partially or fully. YOU CAN NOT USE THE PHOTO. Believe me, asking is better than ending up in court or facing public shaming on social media. Thanks for understanding.

Back in school, and in style!

I should have done this post long time ago. I know I am late, by at least a couple of weeks! And I am not going to give any excuses. What am I talking about? Well, if you remember, when I introduced C to the world, I had promised to explain the rationale behind the decision. Wait! You do not remember C now, do you?

Well, let me introduce C to you once again. See below!

Who is C:

C is a made in Japan 1974 Canon FTb QL all manual film SLR with a Canon 50mm f1.8 FD lens. I got her from the US after lot of searching and researching. And it took extra shipping charges, customs duty, tweets to India Post and 30 days for C and me to unite. (For those of you who are interested in vintage cameras in great working condition, I got C from an online portal called F Stop Cameras. They ship international. You can find out more here.)

I don’t find it weird to name the inanimate objects I own. I have named my Scorpio as “Pearl”, my Pulsar 200NS as “V”, and my DSLR as “N”. I also talk to them sometimes. No, it is not weird. It is just that I find these inanimate objects much more trustworthy than some humans who I have come in contact with. Of course, I am kidding! Which part you ask? The “talking” part.

Now you have been properly introduced, again!

Why C – an all manual film SLR:

When the world around me is moving at a breakneck speed, what is the need for me to slow down? Going back in the cycle of evolution by going from digital to film was only going to slow me down, correct? And what purpose would it serve other than being cumbersome and making photography costlier?

Flash back to Hampi in Karnataka, India, beginning of last year. I had just got my new DSLR and the lenses. The moment I got down from my car in Hampi, I went click click click. For the next three days, all I did was click click click. By the end of it, the counter read 950. And when I took those photos to my computer, there were about only 80 frames which I could proudly show to the world. That is a dismal c8% hit rate.

Confession time! I admit, that was the problem with my style of photography when I had just started taking this art seriously. I took hundreds of photographs and hoped that I will get few worthy frames. And in the frenzy of pressing the shutter button, I was being oblivious to the events around me. If Henri Cartier-Bresson would have been around me during that madness, he would have slapped me for missing The Decisive Moment. So, when I was just pressing the shutter button instead of making a photograph, where was the art in that, I thought! Hence, I decided to slow down.

Since that trip to Hampi I have been out on numerous tours, and I thought I had slowed down considerably. Had I? Though the hit rate had improved considerably, I was still taking a lot of bad photographs – for example the subject was not in focus, or I forgot to change the settings (I always shoot manual), or the framing was not done properly, or all of the above.

I was getting worried about how I was making photographs. I had hit a plateau as far as improving the quality of my frames were considered. I considered myself a 10/10 as far as theory of photography was concerned. But when it came to practical application, I was being a mediocre at best. And they say photography is all about practical application. There was one important ingredient missing from my recipe. After a lot of contemplation, I found it!

Attention! That was the missing ingredient. I was not paying enough attention. I was not being attentive enough, while making photographs. The only way to bring attention to the forefront was to attach some kind of a cost for each bad photograph, I thought. And the only way I could have done it was by relearning photography on film. Also, I felt the less automatic controls the better, and hence an all manual film SLR.

Also, if you are serious about making it big in your chosen field, the best way to learn is by learning the same way as the greats in your field did. In photography, invariably all of the greats learned the trade on film cameras.

Also, film SLRs make you appear much cooler in the field! And who doesn’t want to appear cooler than the crowd?

The first roll and what I learned:

To start with, C had developed some snags, owing to few lose screws on the lens. I had factored these snags in my expectations. I mean, who won’t, especially when the camera you are shooting with is 43 years old! A camera repair shop in Hyderabad repaired it for me and for free. You can find more about the repair shop here.

I had ordered a couple of Ilford HPS 400 B&W 35mm rolls to start with. I intend to shoot B&W till I get bored with them. I have successfully finished the first roll, and as I write, I am in the process of shipping it to Mumbai to get it developed. I just hope that I didn’t expose few frames while rewinding the film. This was the first time I was rewinding the film manually, you see!

The first thing I noticed was the weight of the camera body. And the heavy shutter click. So much so that camera shake will be evident at shutter speeds of anything less than 1/60th of a second. Looking at the brighter side of it, my hands will tend to become steadier. They call it muscle memory!

There is no auto mode in the camera, so I understand the exposure triangle better. Also, because there is no auto focus, I have sharpened my manual focusing skills and learned about zone focusing.

And I saved the best one for the last! When I visited the vanishing beach of Chandipur, in coastal Odisha, India, in my recently concluded trip, I actually waited for my subjects to walk into my frame. The waits lasted between 2-5 minutes, and on one occasion it lasted close to 10 minutes. I realised that I have become more patient and much more attentive about my surroundings.

To tell you more about C and my recently concluded trip, as a challenge to myself I deliberately did not pack my DLSR for this one. I photographed with C on the beach, on the street at night and in an event. I just hope that the frames turn out alright. And even if most of the 36 frames do not turn out alright, the learning experiences alone will make the effort worthwhile. Fingers crossed!

In the meantime, please keep an eye on the Project 35 page in the menu at top for the photos.

In frame: C, my made in Japan 1974 Canon FTb QL all manual film SLR with a Canon 50mm f1.8 FD lens.

A wait too long!

It was a mad rush inside the temple. And owing to my short height, it was impossible for me to have a glance at the deities, let alone having a good look. So, I tugged at my father’s shirt and asked him to pick me up and hold me in his arms so that I could take a good look. I was curious to understand what was all the fuss about these three half-finished deities sitting on that raised platform. And he picked me up! I saw He had a pleasant smile on His face, His big round eyes seeing everything, and His arms extended to embrace everyone.

I was 9 when I last had the opportunity to go see Lord Jagannath and His siblings in His abode in Puri. Year 1991 was the year of Godavari Pushkaram, the most recent one being in 2015. Hindus consider it auspicious to take a dip in the waters of Godavari during that time. And it is considered to be even more auspicious if you visit Jagannath Puri after the holy dip in Godavari. So, we did! Needless to say, it was a road-trip – from my hometown in southern Odisha, to Rajahmundry on the banks of Godavari, in Andhra Pradesh, to Jagannath Puri in Odisha and back to my hometown.

We were staying in one of my uncle’s house in one of the narrow by lanes of Puri. Those were the days when there were no mobiles and no internet, and in the name of TV channels we had only Doordarshan. Unlike kids of today, we had no option but to have fun. So, my parents did not have to pester me and my brother to get ready to go out with them to explore Puri. I have only faint memories of Puri. What I strongly remember from that evening however, is the feeling of not feeling one’s legs from all the walking. The year was 1991!

Jagannath Temple, Puri — Street outside the Jagannath temple in Puri, Odisha, India. It is called Bada Danda in Odia, literally translating into Grand Road.

Then I “grew up”, and started having a “life”. I travelled the length of coastal Odisha many times, but never got a chance to revisit Puri. Then, like any other good Hindu, I blamed it on Him – “Jagannath hasn’t called me to visit him yet”. And in the meantime, 26 years went by.

Lord Jagannath and his siblings are as human as Gods can get. As human as visiting their aunt every year (Rathyatra) to getting ill after spending too much time in the water (Snana Yatra) to fighting with the spouse (Hera Panchami) to leaving the old body and consecrating into a new one (Nabakalebara).

While the previous deity of Lord Jagannath (which existed before the Nabakalebara of 2015) was considered to be very tolerant towards human behaviour, the current deity of Lord Jagannath is considered to be action-minded and an angrier one at that. It was only wise to stop blaming Him for not visiting and pay him a visit in his abode, I thought.

So, I visited Him after 26 years. And guess what! He looked all the same to me, like He did when I was 9 years of age. The same pleasant smile on His face, His big round eyes seeing everything, and His arms extended to embrace His whole creation. He is cool, I realised! May be a little but upset with me because I took 26 years to come back, but He was cool!

This being the month of May, it was very humid inside the temple. And because of the repair work going on in the Jagamohan (the assembly hall in front of the sanctum sanctorum), devotees are not allowed to have a closer look. Yes, His abode needs repairs too! That’s why I said He is as human as a God can get.

My visit to Puri lasted for only 90 minutes. Getting a glimpse of Him was my only purpose in Puri this time, and I was glad that I succeeded. And I realised that He calls us all the time, it is us who fail to comply and blame Him instead.

I plan to visit Puri again during Rathyatra this year, to relive my childhood memories, and after doing so bring you back the stories of Lord Jagannath and Puri.

Jai Jagannath!

In frame: Street outside the Jagannath temple in Puri, Odisha, India. It is called Bada Danda in Odia, literally translating into Grand Road. Kindly bear with lower quality of this photo. It was taken using my mobile and not my DSLR, as I am carrying only my 35mm film SLR this time as part of a challenge to myself.

The Ascend

The wheels of the royal ceremonial gold chariot screeched to a halt on the gravel road behind the Mahanavami Dibba. A well-built dark skinned man, in his mid-twenties, climbed down from the chariot.

A masculine face with neatly trimmed moustache, but the cut on his left cheek which ran almost the full length from just below the eye, looked fresh – a parting gift from a beloved enemy, perhaps. Laden in gold jewellery that were studded with precious stones of all sizes and colors, he wore a bright pink angavastram made of silk and a white silk dhoti. He wore a turban made of yellow silk, and attached to it was the royal pin, which had the largest diamond of all. In his right hand he was holding a precious stone studded gold scabbard, and inside was the sword that whole of the subcontinent bowed down to – the Sword of Vijayanagara.

Standing below the flight of stairs inside the royal entrance at the back of the Dibba, the new King looked up to the portion of the blue sky that was visible. The royal trumpeters on top of the Dibba blew the trumpets, announcing the arrival of the new King of Vijayanagara. The chatter among the crowd stopped. Then the drummers started beating the big drums across the palace complex, in a rhythm. And the crowd started cheering – “Long live the King! Long live the King….”

“Doesn’t anyone remember what happened in last one month leading up to today?”, the new King asked himself.

The new King was the eldest son and heir apparent to the throne of Vijayanagara, and was the most capable. He had been groomed to be the King, right from the day he started walking. He was trained to be the best in sword fight, archery and hand to hand combats in the whole of Vijayanagara empire. And he was well conversant in the Vedas, Upanishads, Gita and Chanakya’s Arthashastra. For the last two years, he had been fighting the Moslems in the north, and had subjugated two Bahmani Sultanates. It was in last one month that everything changed, for better or for worse. The old King took ill suddenly, and was killed in his sleep by one of his younger sons, the new King’s half-brother.

This is when the new King had to ride back to the capital city of Hampi, to confront his half-brother, and to claim the throne that was rightfully his. The situation had changed completely while he was away. Most of the old royal staff had been replaced with loyalists of his half-brother. He knew that his half-brother wouldn’t dare to touch him in broad day light. He confronted him in the palace courtyard, with a handful of his father’s loyalists.

This is when the confrontation turned physical. His half-brother took out a dagger and took a wild swing. He leaned back, but couldn’t move completely away from the dagger’s path, and it sliced him on the left cheek and the wound ran almost the full length from just below the eye. In one continous motion, he took his dagger out, pushed it deep in to his half-brother’s throat, killing him instantly.

Then began the clean-up act. For next two weeks, all the loyalists of his half-brother were either killed or jailed, eliminated systematically. He didn’t stop until everyone of them who had helped his half-brother had been punished. That was the last one month.

As the new King stood below the flight of stairs pondering, the Rajguru touched his shoulder and signalled politely that he should ascend and show himself to the world, to show the world that everything was in control. The King nodded his head and agreement and thought, “Doesn’t anyone really remember?”

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

In frame: The sky from below the flight of stairs, inside the back entrance of Mahanavami Dibba, inside the palace complex in Hampi, Karnataka, India. Mahanavami Dibba was used as a platform by the royals of Vijayanagara to watch the Dussehra celebrations, as well as on special royal ceremonies.

She’s the only one I got

Ours is a unique “love” story, as one-sided as it gets. She is so good, all she has ever known is giving. And she gives without expecting anything in return. She gives without asking. She gives more than what I need. She gives more than what I deserve. She gives even if I hurt her, beat her up, or bruise her. She gives in joy. She gives in pain. She gives me whatever she has. She loves me!

Having used her mindlessly for all these years, having bruised her in unimaginable ways, having hurt her in worse ways than worst of my nightmares, I still found her by my side. And then, I realized that she is very very special. And… She’s the only one I got!

She’s the only one you got. And, she’s the only one we got.

Earth, yours, mine and each one of ours. Our “love” for her has been so cruel, we have done unimaginable things to her. We have always taken from her, more than our fair share, and without ever giving anything back, or giving back too little. In simple terms, we have raped her in every worst way possible.

There is no “humane” way of destroying our beloved little blue marble. Other lives on this once beautiful planet are suffering the repercussions of our actions. Ever imagined why we are acting the way we are? Because, we humans have a very wrong notion of “Oh, we are so entitled”. Because, we believe everything that exists on this planet belongs to us, and it exists to serve us. We can do anything we want to anything that exists on this planet.

We were capable of learning, we were capable of improvising. We learned, and we improvised. We also CHEATED! As intended, we did not use our learning and improvisation for betterment of other lives and that of our planet. Instead, we used them to take advantage of other lives, and to screw up our planet. And with time we have become so greedy, we do everything in excess. We eat more than needed, we use more than required and naturally, we waste more than we can have.

Do you remember those Hollywood sci-fi movies, in which an alien species invades Earth because it has exhausted the “resources” on its own planet? Do you like those aliens? No? Well, those alien characters are based on our greed! Having almost screwed up our planet successfully, we are now looking at other planets in the solar system and beyond, to implement our scheme of things and screw them up too.

All those cyclones, floods, unseasonal rains, droughts, rising temperatures and missing seasons of the recent times are a grim reminder that though she loves us unconditionally, our Earth can fall sick too. And when she does, all hell breaks lose! So, hoping that it is not too late, let’s do our bit to prevent her from falling sick. However small it may seem, but let’s start for once. Be it closing that tap, or switching off the engine at the traffic signal, or not using polythene, or reusing/recycling, or planting that one tree sapling. Let’s us do how much ever we can do. And let it not be restricted to mere symbolism.

As far as I am concerned, I do not use the AC in my car when I am travelling alone, not even in this hot summer. I had turned a vegetarian for some other reason, but I intend to stay a vegetarian for the rest of my life, because recently I came to know that animal agriculture for meat production generates more harmful greenhouse gases than all cars put together (read here). And with time, I intend to do more. Pitch in with my small little efforts, even if it sometimes results in discomfort for me.

Why am I doing this? For everything that I have put her through, I have realized that I can not live without her, quite literally! And I have fallen in love with her. Because, she’s the only one I got. She’s the only one you got. She’s the only one we got.

For her! Happy Earth Day, my love..

In frame: Sun rise at Naitala village, in Uttarakhand, India. This was the first morning I woke up in the laps of the Himalayas. The river in the bottom of the frame is Bhagirathi, “who” is called Ganga after Dev Prayag (Use of “who” is deliberate, because Ganga is now legally a living person. Read more about it here). All this serenity and tranquility in my mind were shattered, when I imagined the havoc floods of 2013 must have caused, scars of which were visible throughout my journey in the Himalayas.

Could you repeat that, Mr Capa?

“If your pictures are not good enough, you are not close enough.” – Robert Capa

Well, that’s what Robert Capa said. But, who was Mr Capa?

Robert Capa was the “greatest combat and adventure photographer” in history. If you are not in the photography business or have got nothing to do with cameras, you would probably not know him. An accidental photographer like many of us, he becamse a legend because of the way he dealt with his profession – dedication and commitment.

The said quote was in the context of war photography. Robert Capa lived and died during an age when there were no fancy photographic equipment. And in that age, more often than not, one had to walk in to the thick of action to get that appealing frame. We are talking about bombs going off all around, bullets whizzing past ears. That thick of an action! And it was this “getting close” part which helped Capa in capturing some of the most dramatic photographs of the wars that he covered.

How is the quote relevant for me in this age, when we have all the fancy equipment we can think of: super-zoom telephoto lenses, the best sensors, and what not? How is it relevant for me when I have not seen a live combat in my entire life? Combat as in when people are trying to kill each other! And most importantly, how is it relevant in my life? Read on for the revelation!

Capa’s quote in the context of photography:

On a scale of one to telephoto lenses, how lazy are you? That’s a weird scale, isn’t it? Not when we are discussing photography.

First, let’s all agree that photography is all about interactions with subjects. Alright? The goodness of the photograph is directly proportional to how well the photographer has interacted with the subjects. If the broad genre is people, then it becomes interaction with people, and if the broad genre is wildlife and/or nature, then it becomes interaction with the nature (insects, trees, birds and animals included). Simply put, the photographer needs to get involved with her/his subjects. And one cannot get involved with the subjects without getting closer, can (s)he?

For me, capturing people was always difficult. I was shy by nature. I was not comfortable talking to strangers. For this reason, most of the times I came across as arrogant. When I say capturing people, I do not mean staying in my comfort zone, taking out that telephoto lens and start capturing people from far off. And then, out of those thousands of photos chose one that is reasonably good and call it “candid”. Well, nothing wrong in that! Nothing wrong other than the fact that I would be bull-shitting, if I say “I capture people”. So, to challenge myself, I took up making portraits.

The photographs where the subjects look right at the viewer, I find these photographs as most intriguing. I feel these are the photographs which connect with the viewer instantly. And to capture those, the subject must be aware, and one needs to abandon all the inhibitions and ask for permission from a total stranger. That is the thrill part!

And that is the level of involvement (“getting close” in Capa’s words) one needs, irrespective of the genre of photography. All or nothing, I tell you!

With time, as I develop my skills of making a portrait, I am also developing my people skills. Now, I do not mind approaching a total stranger and ask for permission to make a portrait. If it is a “yes”, you can see the result in the portrait above. And if is a “no”, I take it in the stride and keep working on my smile.

While making portraits, how do I know how close is close enough? Well, definitely not so annoyingly close that I am encroaching my subject’s personal space. But close enough to capture the right emotions.

Below is yours truly in action, while making the portrait above. That close is close enough, I think.

I have never been caught in action, except for this one time, all thanks to my good friend Amit Kumar Singh.

Capa’s quote in the context of life:

I am going to tweak that original quote slightly.

“If your life is not interesting enough, then you are not living it from close enough.”

Well, you are alive, aren’t you? And what part of “being alive” do you find not interesting?

More about Robert Capa:

Capa lived and died in an age when there were no fancy photography equipment, in an age when photographers had to “make” photographs. Yes, he died at a young age of 40 back in 1954, when he stepped on a landmine while covering the French Indochina war. He had a love story too! He was engaged to Gerda Taro, another combat photographer, who was killed in the Spanish civil war in 1937. Capa contributed primarily to Life magazine. He clicked some of his most famous photos when he accompanied Allied troops during D-day invasion, in World War II. He was the co-founder of Magnum Photos. For all his association with war and death, here is his second most famous quote:

“I hope to stay unemployed as a war photographer till the end of my life.” – Robert Capa

In frame: A flower seller in Gudimalkapur flower market, Hyderabad, Telangana, India. I initiated the talk by asking if I could take pictures of the marigold flowers she was selling, and she agreed. After the photographing the marigolds, I asked if I could make her portrait, and she agreed but said it is going to cost me. So, we bargained and settled for a “nominal” amount. So much for people skills.

Also, I have used a 3-step Brenizer technique here, for the first time. These are three photographs from top to bottom merged in to one.

A promise to my witness!

The “Me” that descended from the Himalayas was completely different from the “Me” that had ascended about a week earlier.

My ego and beliefs were questioned at every turn of the switchbacks, while climbing up and down the Himalayas. And there are like a million switchbacks in the entire route. So the questioning was a million times over.

I thought I was better off the way I was when I started climbing! But, as time progressed I could sense that a change had been set in motion. It was the “Why” part that I was not able to comprehend! Why was I being put through the change, when life seemed so perfect? The “Why” was so overwhelming for my mind, that my emotions could not cope with it.

On my last day, I stood on the banks of Ganga, with tears swelling in my eyes. And I asked her “Why?”. All I could hear was her roar. I asked her repeatedly. Ganga did not answer.

But Ganga was a witness. She was there all along, in the form of Ganga herself, or Bhagirathi, or Alaknanda, or Mandakini, throughout my journey. And she had witnessed the beginning of my change. So, I promised Ganga, my witness, that I might not find an answer to the “Why” that I had asked her, but the change will continue. And when I return to see her again, I would return a better man.

Me being me, I still do not understand how much better is good enough. So, I am thriving to make myself better, in whatever way possible. Probably, there lies the answer to the “Why”!

In frame: Ganga Arati, Triveni Ghat in Rishikesh, Uttarakhand, India. This is a tribute to my witness, Ganga, who stayed by my side throughout my journey in the Himalayas.

FRIGHT

“It is not advisable to stay here after dark. Please wrap up fast.” The guide said in the courtyard of the old palace as he collected his fees, and started walking towards the gate.

Being a photographer, she did not have any business staying there after dark. Photography is a tale by light, after all. But this time, it was different. This one was her first major complete wedding shoot, and the couple she was shooting could help her get more clients. She had just this one day for the pre-wedding, before the bride and groom got busy with the rituals from their respective sides. Without enough resources to hire a help at such a nascent stage of her career, she was doing everything on her own. And whatever help she had in the form of the guide, she didn’t have anymore, as the guide’s shift had ended.

As the sun reached for the horizon, she got some amazing frames of the couple during the golden hour. Within no time, the sun had set and the light was fading fast. Happy with the results, she called it a day and asked the would-be husband and wife to wait in the car outside, while she packed all the equipment and props. She thought the couple would enjoy some quiet time together, which was very hard to find just before the marriage. And meanwhile, she could put her thoughts together on how she would cover the wedding, while packing up in silence.

The conversation between the couple gradually turned into a murmur and then into a whisper, as they walked out of the gate in the front. That’s when the eerie silence of the old palace started to grow on her. The silence was intermittently being broken by the flutter of the pigeons’ wings as they settled for the night, and also by the shrill sound of the bats as they prepared for the night’s feast ahead.

She was almost done packing as she had her back to the closed door on the other side of the courtyard. Suddenly, she heard running footsteps from behind the door and the pigeons and the bats fell silent. And it turned so quiet that she could hear her blood rush through her veins. Unable to understand what was happening, she quickly packed rest of her stuff and was getting up when she heard heavy footsteps approaching her from the door behind, the same door she saw was closed few moments ago. She froze, stood there and the footsteps got heavier with each step, as they approached her from the back.

She had almost all her blood drained out, when the would-be groom walked in to the courtyard from the gate in front of her. Apparently, she had forgotten to give the couple the car keys!

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

In frame: A door on the left side of the open space behind Bibi ka Maqbara, in Aurangabad, Maharashtra, India. Bibi ka Maqbara is the mausoleum of Dilras Banu Begum, first wife of Aurangzeb. She was buried under the posthumous title of Rabia-ud-Daurani”. A low angle, the monsoon clouds and the fading light all added to the drama of this frame.

In pursuit of immortality

“What is the price that you are willing to pay for immortality, Sultan?”, asked the Fakir.

“Whatever it takes, Oh Learned One! I have everything I need, except immortality. And immortality it is that I want”, replied the Sultan.

“Why do you want immortality, Sultan?”, asked the Fakir.

“Because one life time is not enough to spend all the wealth I have. And, because I want to enjoy all the good things that the world has to offer.”, replied the Sultan.

“What will you do once you have spent all your wealth and enjoyed all the good things that the world has to offer, dear Sultan? Because, it will be you who will be an immortal! Everything else comes with an expiry date. What will you do?”, asked the Fakir.

There was silence in the room…

The Fakir broke the silence and said, “But, I have a way to make you an immortal. You may die, but you will live on, through your deeds. You have so much wealth, utilise it to help the people in need. And as the head of the state, make sure that justice prevails. Be a peoples’ King, Sultan! That way, you may die, but you will live on in the heart of your subjects.”

It was a summer afternoon, and as the Fakir walked out, cool breeze entered the room. It was a sign of changing times. The Sultan had finally found a way to become an immortal.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

In frame: The tomb of Sultana Ahmed, wife of Bahmani Sultan Ahmad Shah-Al-Wali in Ashtur village, near Bidar, Karnataka, India. The Persian blue tiles on the upper reaches of the tomb are very well preserved, having stood the test of time for close to six centuries.