The sky was still on fire, like the muscles in my legs, as we climbed down Matanga
We entered the Hampi Bazaar - dark and deserted. I shot one reflex frame. I knew the light was too low. I knew I should atleast stop walking while grabbing that frame. I knew it would look grainy later on. I cared less. I knew the TZ1 could not capture what the eye of my mind saw.
500 years ago, this must have been what Champs-Élysées was just before the French revolution or the Sunset Boulevard in LA today is. Rows of bright wicker lamps burning animal fat lighting the place up. A shop in every stall. Fresh vegetables selling next to Sri Lankan pearls. Finest goat ribs next to sharpest swords. Men and women on horse back, buying from 6 feet tall stalls (and one would think America invented drive-thru). A hawker shooing away a truant. An unshod child scattering a chicken flock. A widow in white hurrying towards the Vitthala temple. A nervous boy eyeing a pretty girl in a bright duppatta across the street. A royalty strolling under a gold laced umbrella.
Hubbub. Chaos. Aroma. Dust. Every sensory organ invaded.
I did not look at the LCD screen to see what I had captured. I would rather live in the present. 500 years ago.