As we drove higher and higher–well above 12,000 feet–there was a visible change in the geographical features. The brown slopes of the mountains that adorned a hat of snow on the peak morphed into all-white walls bifurcated by a rough patch of road that allowed us an access. Below us, at the bottom of the valley, melt-water gushed away, making a long journey into the plains that nurtured the civilization of a billion people. Up here, the only sound of life came from the inhabitants of our own car, save for an occasional yellow-billed chough that flew past or a cuddly-looking marmot that scooted away on our arrival. Glaciers dotted the landscapes, adding more force to the river that skirted past their mouths. The enormous tall massifs covered with snow hurt our eyes, and yet, pleased our souls through a sense of calm and magnanimity effused from them. Someone in the car said, “we have reached heaven”. I could not help but nod silently. I did not want to speak up and break the indulgent muses of my mind.
It was a summer afternoon and we were driving towards Penzi-La, the mighty pass that rose above 14,000 feet to partition the valleys of Suru and Zanskar. I was leading a photography tour comprising a dozen trigger-happy people who were willing to go through any struggle to be a part of this gigantic landscape. For past three days, we had come away from the networked world and were camping amidst high mountains, disconnected from everything else but the grandest showcase of nature. We had traversed in the shadow of Nun and Kun mountains, both massive projections from the ground that climbed well above 20,000 feet, covered in megatonnes of snow that shined in the bright mountain sun.
A few days ago, a good friend asked me to share five landscapes images in five days on a social media platform. This, I did dutifully. Photographing landscapes has always been a meditative experience for me. People who know me often call me a lazy photographer, something that I wholeheartedly agree in most occasions. But when it comes to photographing landscapes, I am willing to go to the world’s end, climb a mountain or swim with the sharks if that’s what it takes. Well I haven’t gone swimming with the sharks, but I have endured frostbitesy weathers and stood on ice until my feet ached with cold, have walked for days in unforgiving places, have endured dozens of kilos on my back and dragged myself up on passes and sacrificed a million sugary morning dreams. And every single time I did this, I came back deeply satisfied, with renewed wish to do more of it. So when someone tags me to post image of landscapes there is only one thing to do – comply!
Here is the collection of images I posted in five days, put together.
1. Sunrise from Anjanadri, Hampi.
Here is first of the five images, made in Hampi. I thought it was going to be a simple, easy-to-shoot image catching the sun coming up on the hills of Hampi overlooking Tungabhadra. But I had to spend pretty much all of my brain and endure a bit of panic (about fast loosing the time) before finally managing this image.
2. Winter Landscape, Ladakh
Here is an image from Ladakh, during the winter months. Coping the cold in winter’s Ladakh is a big challenge. The weather is unforgiving. But the rewards are plenty as well. There is so much snow around that it can hurt the eye. Frost makes beautiful shapes. Frozen lakes form gigantic flat fields. Mountains are sprinkled with powdery snow. Most importantly, photographing landscapes here in the winter months is a gratifying experience.
In the last few days, I have been making a conscious attempt to return to making landscape images. I hadn’t been shooting landscapes for a very long time, and it became evident in an outing last week when I made my first image with complete disregard to many sacrosanct concepts of photographing landscapes. I was quick to realize and recover, and determined to work on shooting more landscapes. In the process, there was much homework done, places scouted, frames envisioned and multiple visits made around Bangalore. Here is an image — in fact the only frame made so far — in the process.
