Hipstamatised Kuala Lumpur

As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, I've been travelling a whole lot recently. Most of it has been of the hectically-working-while-being-severely jet-lagged variety, which leaves little room (or consciousness) for taking pictures.

On my last trip to Kuala Lumpur (Malaysia) though, I was forced to slow down and take notice - by a massive but beautiful thunderstorm - and then, I had to take pictures. But it was one of those rare moments when I wasn't carrying my camera, weighed down as I was by tonnes of paper and a laptop (sigh, work trips...and being tiny) and so I gave my iPhone and the Hipstamatic app a chance. The only credit I'll take for these pictures is for that consciousness...and perhaps, the composition.

It had been a while since I had seen a tropical thunderstorm in its full glory and power. The only rain I see in London is the feeble, unsure type, with a complete lack of self respect. You know, the deeply annoying type? Tropical rain is all powerful, seductive, all-consuming. It makes you stop and take note, awes you by its presence. It forces you to celebrate its beauty, its glory, even its destructiveness. Ah, I miss the Indian monsoon. 

And so, I went to bed that night, tired, but strangely happy...and woke up the next morning to this stunning view.

Who says you need a state of the art camera to capture the beauty you see?*. 

~

*Having said that though, I must confess and rather proudly announce that on the same trip, I became the owner of a new DSLR camera - my first. While the camera can no doubt do nice things, I'm busy figuring out what I can do with the camera. I'll be back soon with my first results. :)

The India Chronicles: A Mumbai Monsoon Part 2

A Mumbai Monsoon Part 1


Sometimes clichés are beautiful, despite themselves.

The choppy Arabian sea in the stiff Monsoon breeze, for instance. The pregnant clouds hang low over the horizon, threatening to burst any moment. The stiff cool wind, laden with salt and moisture excites the sea - it seems to want to reach out to the clouds, touch it and make them unburden their precious fruit.






















The Monsoon is more than just rain. It is a temptress that conceals a spell in its bosom, an annual cosmic ritual that tantalises the fantasies of an entire population.
The Monsoons are magic. A cliché, that never ceases to be beautiful.

The India Chronicles: A Mumbai Monsoon

The first sprinkle of rain on a parched city. After months of waiting, praying, watching the blazing skies for signs of the swollen black clouds that bring respite; bring life back into the trees, into the eyes and souls of the millions suffering the intense Indian summer.

Mumbai, the busiest, most crowded city in India glimmers in its freshly washed attire. Life goes on, but there's a sheen to the city - as the precious Monsoon quenches its thirst.

After spending a week in Delhi at a cruel and dry 45 degree Centigrade, the monsoon in Mumbai feels like Panacea. And even as I zip around the city revisiting the favourites in my memory, meeting people old and new, I greedily drink in every drop. Just like everyone else.

I revel in revisiting a Mumbai Monsoon.