July 2008, Hyderabad.

July 2008, Hyderabad.

July 2008, Hyderabad.

Anuradha is the elder sister of Maheshwari whose photo was posted a few days back here.

July 2008, Hyderabad.

Built by the last Nizam of Hyderabad (once the richest man in the world) the impressive Arts College building of Osmania University is a unique blend of Persian, European, Islamic and Hindu styles of architecture. This photo was taken in the great hall just beyond the entrance door looking up towards the roof.

July 2008, Hyderabad.

July 2008, Hyderabad.

Maheshwari is about 3 years old. Both her parents passed away when she was only a month old. Along with her sister she is being raised by her paternal grandmother. She has started going to school this year.

(At the beginning of this week I shifted base from Cologne, Germany back home to Hyderabad, India. And shortly, I’ll start traveling through various parts of India. So starting from today you will see more of India here. This is the first time that I’ll be shooting extensively in India so I’m quite excited. I hope you will find my journey interesting.)

January 2005, Hyderabad.

May 2007, Athens.

June 2008, Cologne.

I went out to shoot with a friend yesterday and stumbled upon this scene in serendipitous fashion.

Every day that passes behind the calendar
strikes a different chord in the long chapter of remembrance,
the winter that never became our season,
the kisses that never crossed our lips.

It is 6 am and I am sitting here
by the window and wondering about all
the steps that we walked away from when
the time came to hold onto our promise.

Dawn breaks her beautiful cover
in the company of blue light and
a stillness that brings to mind
that night in the back seat of a stranger’s car.

Go on, take a second to remember all that
we talked about as the roads slid by beneath us.
Remember the bright promise of your words that kept
me from taking the easy way out?

I tell myself that time never gave us a chance
for in the rush to get away we came together. And
when the night hurried away to hide behind the sun
you left for the comfort of familiarity.

One day, far away from now, we will
sit with a drink and smile at the stupidity
of hope. But right now the promises are too new
to ignore, too bright to shield this weak heart.

One way or the other the world will move again,
change will turn our heads away from a past that
will be left behind in forgotten photos and in
the vast wasteland of our collective memories.

But until then let me indulge that memory
where something caused your face to glow
under the faint light of the moon when you
turned to me and whispered those special words.