Through the lens of a vagabond

Desert solitude

2010-06-10T13:55:00.002-04:00

It was just a few minutes past that golden hour, when the sun rises from beneath that rusty brown horizon, painting everything around it fiery shades of golden and red. My camera sat atop a rock in the campsite as I stood warming myself near the campfire, shivering slightly in the morning cold, watching the sun slowly rise higher and higher up into the blue sky, warming up the rugged desert landscape from its cold night of slumber.

I relish my moments of solitude, and will go to any lengths to attain them – camping in remote areas far from civilization, hiking unknown trails, taking vacations completely unannounced, traveling in the coldest, most tourist un-friendliest months, finding places that others haven’t discovered yet – anything to get away from people. Because every so often, I feel the need to be completely alone. It isn’t loneliness. It’s simply solitude. Giving myself some breathing space. Allowing myself to exhale. Listening to the whispers of my soul.

And so I stood, watching the red buttes of the landscape change color around me, listening to the sound of the wind rustling through the shrubs, when out of nowhere a scrawny stray dog ambled into my view. It had no tags, no collars. No sign of being owned or having a companion. Free to wander. All alone.

Completely oblivious to my presence, he stood right there in front of me. Gazing at the landscape, paying homage to the desert wilderness before us.

It struck me then that perhaps he too was greeting the morning much the same way as I was. Relishing a few moments of complete solitude in the noisy world around us. Greeting an empty day uncoiled with hours stretched ahead.

I slung my camera around me and took a photo of that memory – the early morning, the desert landscape, the stray dog and desert solitude.

Wings

2009-10-19T18:09:00.002-04:00

Old dreams never really grow old. They simply morph. In those last few moments in which an old dream lies abandoned, it wiggles its way into the tight cocoon of unending hope. And just when you’ve stopped dreaming altogether, it emerges anew. Bright, colorful and vibrant. A new dream morphed out of the old, flying high up into the sky of endless possibilities, sustained on the colorful wings of a whole new passion.

Mornings in Africa

2009-09-18T14:08:00.002-04:00

I know. I know.

I haven’t posted anything on this blog in the longest time, and then return after months of unexplained silence with this highly photoshoped image. It goes against everything I believe in, and then again it doesn’t.

I know I once said I don’t photoshop and that every image on this website has been put up in the natural state in which it was taken – no tampering, no editing, no nothing. But in this one case, I’d like to make an exception. This photo comes out of my archives. It was taken long before I ever had an inkling of an interest in photography. Long before the world was introduced to digital cameras. Long before I even owned a camera I could call my own. Long before I ever decided to blog.

Over the past couple of months of my absence on this blog, I’ve grown increasingly nostalgic for home and unbearably homesick. And so when I finally end my silence on this blog, it’s only befitting that I would use a photograph taken years ago in Kenya to end the dry spell on this blog. I dug up my favorite memory of my favorite place in Kenya but unfortunately the film had grown old, the photograph turned grainy and I turned to photoshop to restore an old memory.

In the end, I remain true to what this blog represents – capturing moments that hold deep meaning to me.

PS. To read about the memory that lies behind this photo, click here.

Dawn's First Light

2009-06-07T17:23:00.004-04:00

I took this photo in the early hours of a cool spring morning in the sleepy little harbor town of Grand Marais in Michigan's upper peninsula. I woke up to the purple darkness that paints the sky right before dawn, and stood by the harbor wrapped up in a light shawl, shivering slightly amidst the cold morning breeze, waiting for the break of dawn. Somewhere in the distant waters, I hear the mournful call of a lonely loon announce the arrival of morning. I watch mesmerized as dawn's first golden light pierces through the purple darkness of the skies, slowly turning night into day. A brilliant golden shimmer sweeps through the calm still waters of Lake Superior spreading one ripple at a time, as I stand entranced, watching the beauty of that early magic hour unfold in front of me.

~vagabond~ © 2009

Spring is here!

2009-04-19T18:57:00.010-04:00

Tiny buds open up slowly,
As the first butterfly of the season floats out of its cocoon
The skies resonate with the sounds of vagrant birds returning home
The fragrance of cherry blossoms sits lightly in the air
The harsh spell of a long, cold winter is suddenly broken
By the warm beams of sunshine that swallow up the blue sky
Slowly, the world awakens out of its deep slumber
Afresh. Anew.

Ivory

2009-04-05T18:07:00.012-04:00

Her deep blue eyes stare into my own, as she locks into them against my own will. She holds my gaze into hers as her piercing eyes penetrate deep into the crevices of my soul, searching and investigating the mystery of my being. The secrets of my past and present unravel involuntarily in the presence of her strong gaze and the truth of who I am stands before her, unguarded and vulnerable amidst her powerful aura.

And then just as quickly as she had cast it, she breaks the spell. She blinks and walks away from me, head held high, swooshing her tail majestically, bored by how ordinary and mundane I am amidst her extraordinary presence. She stretches lazily, taking in the warmth of the sunshine on a cool spring day, frolicking playfully before settling down for a nap on the cool ground.

Ivory. The white bengal tiger.

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These photos were taken at the Potawatomi zoo, an AZA (American Zoo and Aquarium Association) accreditated zoo in South Bend, Indiana.

While the idea of a wild animal in captivity always saddens me, I do realize the important role that accredited zoos play as learning centers in educating and spreading awareness of wildlife conservation. Animals held captive in zoos are often valuable resources to conservation biologists studying the habitat requirement, animal behavior or other aspects of the ecology of an endangered species aimed at the restoration or reintroduction of the population in the wild.

By putting up photos of wild animals clicked at my local zoo, I am not necessarily advocating zoos. While the Potawatomi zoo is an active participant of the species survival plan coordinated by the AZA and is involved in many conservation and education efforts, not all zoos are equally conservation oriented. I feel a conflicted sympathy for the animal held in captivity in an accredited zoo because while it as an individual has lost its right to freedom, a greater benefit to the conservation of its species is often gained out of its captivity. By putting up these photos, I do not necessarily want to get into the argument of "good zoos" versus "bad zoos", I simply want to convey my love and fascination for these wild animals to anyone else that is captivated by their beauty.

The Lighthouse

2009-03-01T20:54:00.015-05:00

This little lighthouse stands brave on the banks of Lake Michigan. It is located in the sleepy beachside town of St.Joseph in Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. Several years ago, I lived in an apartment just a short distance away from its shore. The lighthouse and I go a long way back. I have walked along the pier leading up to it countless times over the years. I would sit at the very end of the pier on summer evenings, with my legs dangling off the edge, gazing out into the watery horizon for as far ahead as I could see. Some days blissful and content, waving at the boats coming in. Some days sad and contemplative, lost in my own thoughts. I have seen the sun dip into the calm blue waters ahead of me painting both the waters and the sky a brilliant red.

In summer, the pier gets quite busy with locals fishing, high school kids diving off its hot concrete slab into the cool summer water, out of town visitors posing to take photos by the lighthouse. But in winter, it stands deserted, weathering the winter storms all alone. And that's my favorite time of all to visit it.

I no longer live as close by as I'd like to, but I still sometimes drive up to say hello. I visited the lighthouse last week and took the photos above. With all the snow storms we’ve been through this winter season, it’s hard to even tell where the “sandy” beach ends and where the frozen lake begins. And yet, seeing my brave little lighthouse standing strong amidst the frozen icy waves of countless winter storms fills me with endless hope and inspiration.

~vagabond~ © 2009

Purple skies

2009-02-15T18:24:00.009-05:00

It was love that brought you to me that cold December morning as I sat out on the porch, gazing out into the purple skies ahead, sleepy eyes watching the lazy dawn unfurl infront of me. It was love that sat you next to me, that stretched the long rays of the early morning sun and filled the empty space between us and brought you closer to me. It was love that filled the silence of that morning and said everything that needed to be said even as we sat side by side not needing to say anything at all because the biggest of little words had already been spoken - I love you.

It is love that sits you next to me right now, watching the sun setting into the sky ahead of us. Is it just me, or does the sky still have the same purple hue it did back then? I still love you.

Bare

2009-02-01T20:33:00.012-05:00

Bare. Uncovered. Having shed all inhibitions.
Exposed in all fragility. Yet strong and defiant.

Wintering geese

2009-01-24T21:07:00.000-05:00

Snowflakes continue to fall silently to the ground. I look out into the distance peering through the misty white curtain around me. Bare tree branches dangle in the cold wind, silhoutted by a hazy mist. My footsteps crunch into the soft snow and are drowned into the white blanket around me barely before they form. The cold winter wind stings my cheeks as I walk on, my warm breath fogging up the cold air forming little clouds. The temperature dips down, swaying way below freezing. And then I spot them. All lined up neatly in rows of hundreds, sitting there motionlessly, huddled in the cold. Waiting and watching as the storm passes over head. Wild canada geese braving winter along the river's edge. They sit along the last ice free spots by the river bank, their backs speckled with snow. Old residents that have lived here all year long intermingled with visitors from up north. Honking and calling out loudly to one another, marking the slow passage of time through yet another wintering season.

~vagabond~ © 2009

To hear the calling of the Canada geese, click here

(Sound Byte courtesy of National Park Services)

Charlie

2009-01-11T20:24:00.001-05:00

This post is dedicated to Charlie. For licking away my tears and filling my life with laughter in your own silly doggy way. For endless, unconditional love. For loving me despite of who I am. For accepting me just as I am. Thank you for being my very best friend.

To read more about Charlie and see more photos, click here.

The view from the mountains

2008-12-31T23:10:00.000-05:00

The road to your dreams isn't always a straightforward one. It winds and curves up a mountain. When you start out on the journey, the hike seems easy enough and the destination seems just within reach. You know exactly what you want and you know just how to get it. And yet the closer you get to the top, the closer you get to attaining your dreams, to getting just what it is that you asked out of life, the hike suddenly gets so much more strenous and it takes every bit of effort to make it to the top, to get to that perfect moment of contentment of having just what you wanted. In those moments of utter despair, when the going gets extremely tough, the best thing you can do is to rest, take a breather and stop and admire the views from the climb on top of the mountain. See how far along you've come and look up ahead at where you want to be. And the sceneries will carry you along further.

For me, the year 2008 has been a little like that journey up the mountain...it's been a tough hike with long winding roads seemingly leading nowhere. But even so, I look back at how far along I've come at the end of the year and I feel a strange joy for having made it this far.

Here's to the year past, and new journeys ahead. Every so often, stop to take a breather and click photos of the memorable sceneries along the way. :)

A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL!

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These photos were taken from Pinnacle Overlook, located at an elevation of 2440 feet on the Cumberland Mountains region of the chain of Appalachian Mountains. The overlook is located within Cumberland Gap National Historical Park and overlooks the tri-state area of Kentucky, Tennessee and Virginia. The white lake nestled in the valley surrounded by the mountains is Fern Lake.

To read more on my three day travel through the tri-state area, click here.

Winter evenings

2008-12-24T16:55:00.000-05:00

Winter evenings. So cold and frigid. And yet inexplicably calm and serene. It's that quiet hour at the end of the day when the sun's last golden light softly spreads into the white. All of the world around me slows down and hushes into a silence as I pause to gaze at nature's own miracle.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!

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Psst! Remember this place? It's the same place where I took these photos in fall. It's always amazing to me how the smallest change in season can give a whole different atmosphere to a place.

The Long Nights Moon

2008-12-12T21:54:00.001-05:00

A silver beam of light shines from high up above,
brightening up the dark night
as the long nights moon, big bright and gray
waits and waits patiently
for the long night to turn to day

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Did you see the moon today? It was the biggest and brightest that it has been all year. Some Native American tribes call it the Long Nights Moon, because it falls on the longest, darkest and coldest night of the year. This years Long Nights Moon though was extra special, because not only was the moon today the closest it has been to the earth all year round, but also the closest it has been to the earth in fifteen years. It wont be this close to the earth again for another eight years.

It was 4^oF (-16 ^oC) when I stepped outside the apartment. So I layered up in two sweaters, a thick jacket, a warm hat, thick gloves, two pairs of socks inside my shoes. And then waddled awkwardly with a tripod tucked under my arm, and clumsily proceeded on to take these photos. LOL. Any mention of the poor quality of the photos, and I'll have to ask you to demonstrate to me the fine art of taking photos in the cold with heavy mittens on.

This post is a Skywatch post, to learn more click on the photo below:

A winter walk along the beach

2008-12-10T23:09:00.000-05:00

I took a walk along the beach on this cold winter day. With the summer crowd gone, the beach stretches on for miles ahead of me, empty and lonely with barely a soul. It’s loud and noisy today, in the anticipation of yet another storm. The waves roar as they soar up high and crash to the ground. The cold winter wind whistles as it dances along the shore. Gulls squawk loudly as they dive noisily for fish. And I walk on, energized by the sounds of the rumbling concert around me.

I snuck up on these two as they strolled lazily along the beach, together, side by side, with hands behind their back. Sometimes stopping to gaze at the waves coming in. Sometimes stopping to inspect new treasures brought in.

We stumbled upon this treasure together, swept up along the shore. I’m not sure what to make of it – an abandoned nest of love built of bits and pieces of straw. Tiny clams now take refuge in it, huddled together against the frigid cold.

But my favorite find of all is this big piece of driftwood washed up along the beach. The lines etched into its wood speak of journeys long and far. Adrift for so long, baggage carried by the waves, now weary and tired, it lies forlorn by the shore.

I love winter walks along the beach. The loud, noisy concert, the refreshing cold air…and you never know what treasures you’ll find today, buried in the sand.

~vagabond~ © 2008

The calm after the storm

2008-12-04T21:33:00.000-05:00

Choppy waves, turbulent and strong, surge through the turmoil of the sea

A whirlwind of different emotions storms on deep within me
The waves crashing, the wind howling, a sky filled with darkness
Babies crying, mothers wailing, a world devoid of happiness
The rain falls long and hard all through the night
Guns shooting, soldiers fighting with all their might
But when the storm is over, the sun still shines
And even when the last tears have dried up, Mumbai your spirit will still shine.

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Dedicated to the Mumbai attacks on the 26th November, 2008.

For me, the true spirit of Mumbai does not lie amidst a defeatist resilience or a self-inflicted martyrdom in accepting what has been handed to it and moving on. Rather, the true spirit of Mumbai shines in the ability of the bindaas city to stand up in unison for what it believes it, and demand the respect that is rightfully due of it.

~vagabond~ © 2008

Winter wonderland

2008-11-23T20:07:00.000-05:00

I love this magical time of the year, when the last leaves of autumn are all but gone, and the very first snowfall of the season has just begun. When the stray birds say their goodbyes and depart for the winter. And the earth covers up in a thick white blanket and falls into a deep slumber. The only sound in the cold air is the soft crunch of the snow beneath my feet. The world sleeps quiet and serene as I walk through winter’s wonderland.

Conspiracy

2008-11-19T19:33:00.001-05:00

A Dan Brown book, the un-finished pyramid and the all-seeing eye on a dollar bill. Nothing quite as much spells conspiracy.

~vagabond~ © 2008

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This photo is my entry to Cuckoo's photocontest of the month. I remember how every couple of pages into reading Angels and Demons I would whip out a dollar bill from my pocket to see if all the markings of conspiracy really existed on it as he claimed.

The Couple

2008-11-16T22:30:00.000-05:00

I see the same couple every evening as I walk my dogs by the river bank. Wiggling and waggling their tails, waddling along the way. Some days they argue loudly, squawking and quacking, seems like they've got lots to say. And then there are other days like this cold autumn evening when they seem content to just sit together, and share a moment, brightening up my day. They're quite the couple, arent they? Him in his bright suit and she in her drab gray.

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PS. If you're an animal lover like me, you might want to check out Trisha's photo. It's sad and yet inspiring enough to make you want to make a difference.

Autumn colours

2008-11-08T22:26:00.001-05:00

The smell of cinammon and apples
The cold chill in the air
The crunch of dry leaves on the ground
The red, the yellow and the brown
Autumn is here!

Pumpkins!

2008-11-06T21:04:00.000-05:00

Pumpkins palooza!

Nothing quite as much announces fall is in the air

Reflections

2008-10-22T21:50:00.000-04:00

In you

I see the other half of me

Separate identities

Yet together complete

Life and Death

2008-10-14T18:24:00.001-04:00

They exist only as names etched out in stone
But in memories, they’re still alive
Even amidst death grows life

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The Angel of Hope Garden in South Bend, Indiana is dedicated to mothers who have lost a child. The first picture in this post is my submission to Cuckoo's photo contest of the month. I usually hate photoshop-ing photos, but in this case, I've made an exception - only because I think the photoshop-ing adds to the message of the photo. And it's my first pathetic attempt at photoshop.

Peeking through the windows of history

2008-10-02T15:29:00.000-04:00

Peering through the windows of this ruin, I get a glimpse into another life.
Laughter and voices from long ago, are carried on the wind blowing through its empty walls.
Twigs on the ground crackle beneath silent footsteps.
Forgotten people. Forgotten lives.
All come alive, when I peek in through the windows of history.

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For those of you who have been asking, here's a little more information on the locale:

Chaco Canyon is located in New Mexico. The ruins you see in the photo are believed to have been constructed by the Chacoan people, as they are called, in the mid-800s. Chacoan architecture particularly stands out because the construction of buildings was often oriented to solar, lunar and other astronomical directions. The ruin featured here is the Pueblo Bonito, one of the larger houses in the area (it has over 600 rooms!). It is considered one of the most extensively excavated sites in North America, and is even today considered to be sacred and of spiritual significance to many American Indian groups.

~vagabond~ © 2008

Red skies

2008-09-12T16:02:00.000-04:00

That passionate hour of the evening

when the sun sets the sky on fire.

Simple treasures

2008-08-30T15:54:00.000-04:00

Sometimes it's just the ordinary things in life...a lazy day on the beach, the sun, sky and sand, a good book to read and a fun place to explore...that make life worth living. The simple treasures of life.

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This was supposed to be my entry to Cuckoo's photo competition of the month but I got too busy to put it up on time. Oh well, here it is now. I know, I know...Cuckoo, you can stop nagging me now. :P

Crosses of faith

2008-08-11T20:41:00.000-04:00

I dont know if I'm always a believer. Lately I've had more than my share of doubts. But then you visit a place like this and it makes you WANT to believe. The rosaries on the cross plead desperate pleas. Prayers whispered around me echo utter helplessness and frustration. I dont always know if someone out there cares, but when I hear all the stories of hurt, pain and anguish around me, I too want so desperately to believe.

Dusk, dawn and day

2008-08-10T13:33:00.000-04:00

The changing face of the valley as the sun rises and sets in the sky.

Ladders to the clouds

2008-08-07T21:03:00.000-04:00

There is a legend among the Acoma people that speaks of ladders to the sky. Everywhere in this village are white wooden structures that reach up from the ground into the blue sky. The ends of the ladders are sharpened to peirce through lazy clouds floating by. When a cloud catches on the end of a ladder, a thunderstorm breaks loose. And somewhere in the dry canyon, a rain shower quenches the thirst of parched land.

~vagabond~ © 2008

Etched out in stone

2008-07-22T19:17:00.001-04:00

Faded tales from a forgotten past etched out in stone.
Petroglyphs on sacred land.

Sunrise

2008-07-13T10:02:00.001-04:00

I love that early hour of the morning when dawn first meets day. There's a lazy serenity in that first moment when the world slowly awakens out of its slumber to greet the start of a new day.

~vagabond~ © 2008

For other sunrise photos, check out this month's photo contest at http://www.cuckooscosmos.com/PhotoGallery/2008/07/11/sunrise-2

Layers

2008-07-12T13:29:00.000-04:00

Layers of history trapped in layers of time.

Wisdom, Strength and Courage

2008-07-05T19:41:00.001-04:00

They stand here, three peaks towering up high.

Countless battles fought, undefeated by time.

Fourth of July

2008-07-05T18:30:00.000-04:00

Celebrating the red, white and blue.

Where the heavens meet earth

2008-06-21T20:07:00.001-04:00

Somewhere in Arizona lies a place where the heavens and earth unite. A place where dreams whispered float up to be heard by the sky.