Stayed indoors for over seventy days, I have listened to the experts that a deadly virus infected the world around, and the beast is ready to grab anyone who would venture out and asphyxiate to death any careless soul.
It’s a terrible reality to deal with so long under the oppressive umbrella of isolation, and it becomes far more unbearable if you are a refuge living alone.
After a few days into the forced living in a trap, I felt instead of being unhappy to be alone; let me adapt myself loving the beautiful silence that surrounded me, for how many days I wasn’t sure. I heard no bustle outside, nil phone calls, none expected to disturb my days and nights. I guess I owned a possibility that I could be as strong mentally as much as I could discipline myself to carry out more tasks than I would in regular days.
One fine day the gates to the outer world were cautiously thrown open. And I’m free to take a ride, of course, camera in tow.
I called in two of my camera pals for a hop into my familiar domain, the focus of my aesthetic inspiration – the river Krishna. I shuffled at my steering, gazing at the smothered, silent but intimate nooks and corners as I drove to the outskirts. I was excited as If I’m a toddler delighted for a ride into the city.
Standing on the riverfront, we listened to the rhythm of ripples hitting the bank; early summer breeze comforted us with tosses of hope, and the Sun patiently waited longer and warmer to let us enjoy the earthly scents of freedom – after seventy days. My photographs reflect the frames of relaxation.