Some moments in life, though fleeting, last a lifetime as memories. The first ray of light that breaks through the darkness, walking out like her majesty from behind a veil, to cast her arms of sunshine on the world anticipating her gaze; the fleeting, half-hidden moment before she reveals herself to us—that’s a memory that would sit forever in my mind. Like a longer-lasting flash, the sun rose from the depths of the night to the heights of the day—all in a matter of minutes. On the Kangchenjunga mountain, we waited from 4 am for the sun to show up. Because no two sunrises are the same and no two seconds during the rise are alike. If that’s not evanescent, what else is?
For a few years now, I, along with family, travel at least twice a year. And more than once, we’ve hit exotic locations, just the same time the monsoons hit. So my photo library is full of water reflections and swaying trees. Despite all that, however, there’s one photo that’s closer to my heart than any other. It still amazes me how I managed to capture that moment the trees over our heads reflected in the tea I was about to cherish. Oh, and it was December, the coldest season of the year, in Kodiakkanal, one of the coldest cities of Tamilnadu.
We were in Thekkady, enjoying the monsoon showers and the chilly breeze that came with it. Wondering what to do for thrill, we wandered through the shopping street when we noticed a poster from the Kadathanadan Kalari Centre for a show of traditional Kerala fighting techniques. It was rather a pricey ticket, which is understandable since they target rich tourists, but I had my doubts, too, about how much I’d enjoy it.
After about a half hour of sword and stick fighting, the team moved on to fire. I sat up excited. What spells dare and danger better than fire? And boy, what an act that was.
Sometimes in life you don’t realise how much you love doing something unless you’ve stopped doing it altogether. For instance, I didn’t know how much I enjoyed travelling until I found myself sitting alone in a large room sorrounded by too much space yet too little fresh air, reminiscing the good old days. This particular photo happened in Thekkady, Kerala.
Sometimes you need to stare long before you realise that the our world is more majestic than we think. I had such a moment of awe and eye splendour in Thekkady, a part of Kerala. It was the green mountain, called so because its greenery lasts throughout the year.
It wasn’t just any mountain, though. It’s home for some of the tallest trees, mildest deer, and wildest elephants. Not to forget the freshest of lemongrass. You could reach out and snatch the grass off its root (Evil, I know. I was appalled when our host did it, but was also glad later.), and the lemony scent would fill the air with all its natural glory. None of the perfumed, lemon-flavoured car fresheners would come anywhere close to it. That’s the beauty of our earth—human creations stand no chance against it.