Each Face has a story...

In my occasional travels to the hinterland, I have noticed that the many of these places differ radically from each other but most seem to offer something new to learn and taste some new colors. Through my lens, I tried to capture few of these effective representatives of raw beauty of that society.

In most cases here, the simplicity of the subject is directly proportional to the sophistication of the output that one gets from the click. In one of my posts, temporal had left a comment:

would love to see "portraits"

without flash, of course...in natural light and shades the faces tell stories that words fail to capture (mostly)

I fully agree to each and every word in that statement by temporal, that the cloud of raw emotions do convey a story that words fail to capture.

The facial gesture reminds me that nothing is concealed.



Some eloquent silences but even this silence offers soothing words of warmness.



His face is a palette of light, a landscape that offers one to see the geometry of everyday life in the barest form.



The inelastic and expressive wrinkles echoed and re-echoed, a motley of emotions. Like in this case, it sends a mixed message, stewing in silence.



He seems blate, almost shy. His expressions evoke an intimate, possibly wordless, dialogue.



He is looking right into my camera, his turbaned head tilted a bit, but his eyes and the white beard catch the light and lens just so, revealing something of a soulful vulnerability and thoughtfulness. An obvious mix of tension and diffused graceful touch.



Just as each wrinkle of an old moccasin reveals a story about the foot that wore it, this grandma like figure's smiley face with the stark features convey a fascinating wordless tale.



He comes close in this picture to perceive, what is behind the mask of the face, that spark and glow of life? I feel its satisfaction and the maturity that flows fluidly back and forth.



Lost in thoughts, there is a kind of loneliness, a sadness in his eyes as the trails of smoke from his beedi, perfects his mood.


Talking to these people, thorough the lens is also like working to untangle fragments of personalities. Waiting lounges in airports, a gathering near a chai shop, the city markets, etc always tease with the promise of a story the viewer of these urges to be told. The frames always offer something new and entice one to come back again.

Keep reading and remain connected.

Jalta Hii Jaye...

Hey, what is your name?

My name is Roshni. I don't know but different people call me by different names, some call me Tejaswini and some call me Ruchi.



But you know what....I dislike the most. My live is so short lived that sometimes, I feel that, wish I could have lived a little longer.

But then, does the time span that one lives matter? No generic answers to this. Again to each it's own. For some small is big and for few big is small.



But mere dost,

In this world you could easily,
Get lost, embodying bigness.
But then at least, there are few who can
see the beautiful darkness.
And when the flare journeys
from flickering to fading mode,
it discovers a dream and a tender idea.

What's that dream or big bang idea ?

In the temporal riches of life, still someone keeps enunciating 'jalta hi jaye'. I just love that attitude.



Keep reading and remain connected.