Photos

Some of the photos that I have taken and put a caption to, these are my absolute favorites.

  • Zeno’s Paradox

    If our lives are made up of individual moments cumulated together expanded over a period of time, do we really live in the moment? If we are stationery at every individual moment, do we really move?
    It’s a convenient paradox, unresolved. We live through anyway, unbothered.

  • Embracing the Solitude
    Perhaps if we start viewing solitude and loneliness as two separate things, we would stop beating ourselves up for being alone. One needs to be embraced, the other needs to be discarded, over time. We are always solitary, but never alone, our mind keeps us company. End of the day, we detach from everything except our mind. When that is also detached, we leave.

  • The Tale of A Mute Spectator
    Ever withstanding the passage of time, this creation of mankind, shaped by nature around it, is a mute spectator.
    Even if we have ears, would we listen to the stories it has to say, accumulated over millions of days, thousands of months and hundreds of years?
    I hope we do. For that would mean everything to them.
  • The Harmony of an Unrehearsed Orchestration
    Beat
    The hard work that goes into producing this sound of magic is unparalleled.
    Beat
    One, two, three, four….. The counts go on and on in his mind.
    Beat
    The unrehearsed orchestration of thirty people who perform in perfect harmony is a sight to behold.
    Beat
    The happiness they portray on their faces is such a joy to watch.
    Beat
    Everyone, be it me or you, is drawn to this miracle of a sound. The crowd that raise their hands and shake their heads in coordination with the beat is pure joy.
    Beat
    The Masters lead the way, followed by the experienced and finally by the newcomers who would like to make a mark in the industry.
    Beat
    All of this comes together in a symphony of three hours which finishes with a bang.
  • A Day’s Catch
    With his day’s catch, he makes a beeline towards the shore, leaving his temporary mark on the sea in the process. The motor gives him some respite for the work he’s done.
    He’s up before there is light, he’s back already when there is.
    For him this is routine, for us it’s a wonder.
    I wonder though… What about the fishes? Do they know each day, nay, each hour, could be their last..?