Category: Photography


​”Reflecting” 29.07.16 

Visiting cities like Kolkata, feels like entering a time-machine.  

Michele Obama’s recent words ring in my mind, when I come across monuments like these. 

“Built by slaves.” 

As awe inspiring is their magnificence, so heart wrenching are  the foundations of power and subjugation on which they stand.

  A constant reminder of what we were, what we became, what we are now and how we have transformed as a people and as a nation. 


A few of my favourite things! #2 Sunsets 

​These monsoon days, Delhi and its terrible traffic jams are over shadowed, by beautiful heavenly, and splendid sunsets. 

A bit poetic I think. 

How, hundreds of people, honking, swearing, running out of time, are made to witness something so profound, and overwhelming, that it slows down time, even if for a little while. .

 A good exercise of putting life into perspective.

 And such momentary instances, like a sunset, are over even before you know it. What kind of life are we leading if we don’t have the time to pause and and admire such a sight! 

How I wish objects in this mirror were closer than they appeared! 

In a year of 365 days, one should atleast witness a 100 sunsets and sunrises. I try to catch one everyday, but yesterday’s was magnificent. 

To live a life, you need to live in the moments.

 As a photographer, I see myself as a collector of such  moments. 

Wishing that you get blessed to witness many such moments. ❤

For more such stories and pictures head over to Pic-Tales 

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A few of my favourite things! #1 Rain (Photopost) 

I often go into a spiral of self loathing, and depreciation. I get over whelmed by work around me and get lost, drowned in the possibilities of all that could go wrong. 

Recently, I came across a lovely concept which said, make a list of thing you love doing. Now, try incorporating them in your daily routine. 

So, the following, category of posts is going to be about the little things that I like. Just to remind myself, as sometimes under my self inflicted burden, I forget the reasons life can be lived for. 

One of these things is rain. My favourite. I was born during the monsoons, so I like to believe that the first sound I ever heard was of rain. Despite the humidity and inconvenience caused, especially in travelling to and fro. I just love this season. I guess my mood mind likes the grey moody hues. Who knows! 
This is also a photo project. Which I hope will give me some inspiration, to go out and click pictures, and in turn, discover more about myself. ❤ 

Which are your favourite things? 

Do you have a favourite season? 

Collecting Souvenirs

In my family, I am known as the hard drive. From about the age of 2 years, I can recall details about the 10 schools, 18 houses and 8 cities that I have spent my life in.

For special instances, like a life altering event, for instance, when my grandparents died, I can recall everything. Who was there, what were they wearing, the clouds in the sky, the smell of incence sticks. For such instances the files in my brain have HD video with Dolby surround sound, and often slow motion effects in sepia filters.

But I am also growing up. And the more memories I make, the more I am fearful that I may forget. Since I pride over my abilities to recall, it is crucial for me to remember. What will happen when I grow old? Since I am the one who makes people remember tiny little details, who will remind me then?

We love to travel. My family is a travel freak family. But collectively, we came to realise, that after seeing so many things, your memories tend to blur at times. Photographs are there, but in this digitised world, who has the time to go through files looking for a particular image.

This made me think about journals. Now, as I child I wrote diaries for quite a long while. They were my friends and confidants. You can imagine the despair my little heart went through, as I had to change yet another school and city. However, as time went by, their secrets became heavy, for them and for me to carry. And so I stopped.

Years later, I have mustered courage to do it again.


AT Chandertal, Spiti, Himachal Pradesh

Hopefully, this time, I will not stop.
Each sketch, as and when I make them, will have the date and place.

I can imagine myself, years later, alone somewhere, or perhaps with my grandchildren, going through these journals, and instantly being able to feel the cold, bone chilling winds of Chandertal or the aromatic pine winds of Kinnaur.

I have for a while associated diaries with the darkest phases of my life. Despite the strength I derived from them, they also held those secrets which I feared would incenerate my image in front of all those I hold dear. And who, have no idea of what I go through.

I wanted to change my views on an activity so intrinsic to my survival. This time, I have decided to record all the good and the beautiful in my diary. Instances, quotes, sketches.
The mind and heart are enough for the bad. Its the good I need to be reminded of, time and again.

Its a bit late to make a new years resolution, but by putting this out here, I am hoping I can hold myself accountable. Lets see.


At Kalpa Valley, Kinnaur, Himachal Pradesh

Little Secret # 4 The city and its people


When I think about the passing day in a city. I like to think of the two as bound in a unique relationship.

As the day comes to an end, you can feel the city slowing down.
Those hustling bustling roads become calmer.
Light slithers away from lanes and alleys.
Lighting up lost corners as it goes.

The wind howls through, bidding adieu to weary travellers, as it gathers up the rustling leaves, and memories of a day gone by; all enroute home.
The city glows dim and yawns. Stretches and relaxes.

As the day comes to an end the city is the home for some and reminds of home to others.
The people retreat and so does the city, into a deep slumber.
To meet again in the morning and come back to life.
For one is incomplete without the other.



Walk and keep your eyes on your goal.

Even when the Sun shines down upon you…

and your troubled soul is anchored.

Even when they call you names and stab your back,
and your spirit is shattered.

Even when there is no one to trust but yourself.
When the path is too dark to see your shadow.

Just walk.
Breathe in…and walk.

None of this will matter.
Not those people, not those fake friends and real enemies.
Not those unfinished goals and broken dreams.

None of this will matter if you can just walk.

Walk away,
Walk ahead,
Walk alone.

Because its the walk, it is the journey that makes you worthy of the destination.

I have been having trouble recently. Walking away and walking alone takes a lot of courage. You have to swallow your pride. You have to let go of relationships that you thought mattered.
The journey is not about who reaches there the fastest.
It is about who can pick themselves up, after falling and still have the courage to continue walking.

May you always find courage within your heart.