PEACE AND QUIETNESS

Vijayawada, the city where I live, it’s gifted with spectacular beauty, perched elegantly in a groove between the river Krishna and a string of hills on the other.

On most Sundays, I walk along the breezy warm sandy beds of the river or drive the steep tracks and enjoy the rugged green splendor stretched across the hilltops.

I admire the rolling hills and the rushing river, and both offer nature’s grandeur for a photographer who looks for something appealing in every corner his eyes take him. The only difference between a bystander and a camera enthusiast is that the lens looks beyond the obvious, the patterns, the colors, and many small images that nature presents in awesome features.

On the damp sand, I settle myself, set the camera, listen to the slow lapping of waters, and wait for the magical moments that arrive when the Sun dips; it gives me an impression that the visual affair is descending in slow motion. Then I look at the golden ball disappearing at a far distance. I gather, wasting no time, by pressing the shutter button on the blaze of diffusing colors: oranges, reds, and deep purples. I pick up the warm rays dancing on the tiny waves, beating the motorboats whizzing past, the people frolicking close to the waterside, and twinkling on the scores of young adults in their romantic modes cozying up to share the intimate feelings with their loved ones.

On my way back, cutting through late evening traffic passing by the two iconic shrines of the city, I couldn’t resist the temptation of the thought of how about blending the illuminating glory of two divergent temples in one frame. Bringing together the magical hues of the dusk and the two altars have been rewarding and worth the wait long after the Sun rested for the day.