My Way Is The Highway

Hunt for the red sky

Bryce Canyon, August 16th 2008

It was pitch dark as I drove to Inspiration point. The parking lot was already half full. The air had a delicious nip. A faint odor of burnt wood.

The rim had two clusters of photographers. One with lenses pointing at the horizon, the other at the hoodoos to catch the magical solar angle. The man next to me groaned. He had forgotten to feed the camera with the battery he had left to charge. I felt for him. But only a little.

Nature, then, uncorked the light show. The next 15 odd minutes, the two predominant sounds were gasps and the sweet clicking of cameras.

The flash memory stored only a fraction of the experience.

Hampi Bazaar...

 

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.