Caught unawares
without a facade,
unmasked,
the face mirrors feelings of the heart,
natural emotions reflect,
candid clicks
capture the soul’s true beauty!
Photography – Catching People Unaware!
Tag: pictures
Inky Tales!
Reena’s exploration challenge #166.
“inkblots mutate
to form pictures,
alphabets,
stories I did not create”
You are required to find a picture from your Media library, sites for free pictures, or your phone camera and post it on your blog. Copyright if any will remain with you.”
My interpretation to this very unusual prompt.
Creative marvels
colors of ink weave stories
myriad artists
Photography!!
In response to Cee’s Midweek Madness Challenge : Post photographs of alphabet words having both r and s.
Photography – Communication!
“The most important thing in communication is to hear what isn’t being said”. Peter Drucker.
Say Cheese!
The moment I read this prompt challenge, my mind immediately thought of the photographs at home that fill the albums and adorn frames on the wall. I love clicking moments of today which make beautiful memories tomorrow. Of course, with the advent of digital technology, now my laptop is filled with them.
As I browse the old pictures, each picture enlivens a story of emotional delight. I harvest a bounty of nostalgia. The vintage sepia toned, the black and white or the glossy coloured ones bridge the present to the past. Sauntering on that bridge infuses the air with the fragrance of yesterday. The heart revels seeing the pictures unfold a saga of events that life witnessed. It is a wonderful way to bond with the family, reminiscing good old times, sharing some laughter and tears, teasing and ranting, setbacks and celebrations.
I love the company of photographs, for it captures moments to etch it in the heart for eternity.
Blur of life captured
tapestry of memories
eternal imprints
Photographs!
The air is infused with a
nostalgic fragrance
as the eyes take a tour
of a visual delight,
embossed in a digital diary.
A melange of emotions
a chest full of memories
a plethora of holidays
a trail of outgrown footprints,
each snapshot,
enlivens a riot of recollections
the heart rejoices with a smile
the celebrations and the tears
precious moments of life captured
that fade out of mind with
the passage of time,
but the impressions
stamped for eternity
in the photographs.
When the pictures cried…….
Had an opportunity to visit a photo exhibition oraganised by the Indian photography fest in my city. The works of various photographers from around the world were showcased and we spent over two hours mesmerized by their extensive range of work. Stunning visual landscapes, black and white portraits, exotic wildlife, the wrestlers of Senegal, glimpses of the platform of New York’s subway, local festival celebrations, Philippines drug war, the slums of Dharavi, many postcard pictures from everyday life and much more were put up.
But what caught my attention and ripped my heart apart were the pictures by the Mumbai based photographer Sudharak Olwe. The pictures were crying out in agony, shattering the silence of the room. Some of his works covered the images from the lives of the conservancy workers working in unimaginable conditions, the prostitutes of the red light area, jarring pictures of the deep caste prejudices among the Dalits in Maharashtra. Each picture narrated a heart wrenching morbid tale of life. Be it a new born baby still with its umbilical cord dumped in a garbage bin, or the prostitutes playing Holi* but with colours of pain and sadness, a man cleaning a sewage canal buried till his neck in pit filled with filth , hanging of a Dalit for trying to speak up for his rights and many more such pictures which jolt your very being. I could do nothing to contain the tears flowing from my eyes.
Staring into their lifeless eyes
the piercing wails echo
despair and anguish
the soul drenched in sorrow
when the tormented heart cries out,
their plea for help, unheard
nobody to feel, nobody to heal
from the dead frames hang
something which resembled a human
life in an abyss enclosed by
gloom, filth, poverty and misery
their grieving hands probe in the perennial darkness
for a glimmer of hope to brighten their spirit!
*Holi is a festival of colours played in India.
radhikasreflection 