Does the Moon move or Do the Clouds?

The moon, framed between the two hostels was breathtaking as we viewed it standing on the mess lawns. I was initially trying to capture just the moon. Subhash taught me how to frame this one along with the buildings and a bit of the lawn.

Bright with glad mad rapture, fierce with glee,
Laughs the moon, borne on past cloud's o'ertaking
Fast, it seems, as wind or sail can flee.

The Green Stone

One of my favorite earrings. Just got back from dinner and was taking the earring off when I just clicked a pic of it. Then,focal black and white did its magic. Im in love with this pic (yes yes, narcissism). I think I'll make a header of this pic for the blog.

After that evening rain,
I wore earring he gave me
and we bonded our love
With the first kiss.

Such a Long Journey

Took this pic when the bus crossed the railway track. It came out clearer than I expected it would.

A beautiful journey began late one morn
In this special place, not known for such things
It was on that morning on these tracks was born
a love still gives my thoughts wings
I’ll always recall, even now that our time has passed
That pre-destined moment in God’s perfect plan
When through the spring rains, I chose to hold your hand
And my beautiful journey with you, began

Green Leaves

Found these leaves curling up against the wall, in the garden. They seemed brimming with life and playfulness.

The leaves had a wonderful frolic.
They danced to the wind's loud song.
They whirled, and they floated, and swayed.
They nodded their green heads and sang along.

Love

A honey bee perched perfectly on one of those little yellow flowers that look like baby sunflowers.

If I was a flower growing wild and free

All I'd want is you to be my sweet honey bee.

Pushkar

The first time I went to Pushkar. I was so overwhelmed by the sheer variety of activities that went on within the confines of those narrow roads. A water lorry was bulling its way into a thick crowd of people that were oozing towards the Bramha temple. It seemed like a surreal wave of Indian kitsch.

Multitude, solitude: identical terms,
and interchangeable by the active and fertile poet.
The man who is unable to people his solitude
is equally unable to be alone in a bustling crowd.

The crowded bus

On the way to Pushkar. We boarded this old , rickety bus. The  very colourfully clothed passengers more than made up for it.

The bus never arrived on time. When arrived, it could not take all passengers queued in line, cos it was too packed and crowded like a tin of sardine.

The Cane Chair

A glimpse of stacked cane chairs under the sun, got me whipping my digicam out before the bus could move.

If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms,

A thrill must have pass'd through your wither'd old arms!
I look'd, and I long'd, and I wish'd in despair;
I wished myself turn'd to a cane-bottom'd chair.

The Green Bottle

I was having a coughing fit in the bus, and there was this kid on the front seat, offering me a bottle of water from between the crevice that the windows and the seat formed.

As the sunlight catches it's lovely
shade of deep green,
It summons a distant memory of a
child, smiling serene.