Home - A memoir in light & shadows (May 2020- Ongoing)

I ended up spending the first four months of the lockdown in my old home, one where I spent a majority of my school and college years. When I look back and think about it, during those years, I feel like I only ‘stayed’ there, but this is the first time that I ‘lived’ in this home. And I have finally fallen in love with this place.

While the lockdown continues, a realisation is slowly setting in. Home is as much a physical space as it is an idea. Home is an idea in transition, an idea that is as ephemeral as life.

It was also a bit of a personal challenge to try and make photographs within the four walls of my home. Here is a memoir in ten photographs.

Routines are reassuring; they bring comfort — like how my mom reads the newspaper, in the same place at the same time, everyday.

My son accidentally created this interesting abstract with his arrangement of toys.

We all have that one favourite spot in our homes, this window is mine. My wife and I have spent many hours here, looking out, chatting or just sitting there doing nothing. My son spends time at this window, longing for the outdoors, but that will have to wait.

There is something really beautiful about the pattern and texture in the light reflecting off the grills of the balcony, about the way it adds to the already aging walls and pipes.

My mother’s feet and her favoirite footwear, the beauty of those wrinkles, so many struggles, all the wisdom, and so many stories of joy.

I tend to lose track of time and can go on working late into the night. At times, in a dark room, the laptop’s screen is the only source of light. I think this lockdown will redefine the future of work and the workplace.

Migration

The migration of species has a long and interesting history.

Migration, due to voluntary or involuntary reasons is invariably driven by the need for safety, security and survival at a basic level, primarily seen with animal migrations, and factors like growth and prosperity specifically seen with human migrations. Irrespective of the reasons for migration, the frequency and magnitude of it can completely transform landscapes, habitats and the climate. 

Interestingly enough, as per a report on migration and climate change, the single biggest impact of climate change could be on human migration itself—with millions of people displaced by shoreline erosion, coastal flooding, agricultural disruption and even wars.

The problem really is one of time (the speed of change) and scale (the number of people who migrate). Cities like Mumbai are a great example of human migration, where millions of people throng the city every year in search of better prospects and livelihood.

Part of - Parallel Echos, a photo series showcasing the intricate relationship between humans and nature.

Portraits of fading memories

“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart. No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories. ”

— Haruki Murakami

I have been fascinated by the concept of memories. If we stop to think about it, that’s all that is left of our past. Memories have a way of staying with us.

Memories fade with time, and the pictorial associations with those memories become unclear and blurry. Freezing time and holding onto those moments so that we can cherish them as memories, is one of the important reasons why we photograph.

This body of work titled Fading Memories is an attempt to make some sketches of the past — portraits of memories as I know them.

Hope & Despair

The abandoned nesting site of flamingos is a sad spectacle; a stark reminder of how glorious this scene could have been. 

According to the locals, flamingos abandoned this site due to changing water levels and unseasonal rains one year. Erratic weather patterns have had an adverse effect on the breeding behaviour of many species. 

I made this photograph of the nesting site in 2015. It also won the National Biodiversity Photography  Contest.

Part of a series called Parallel Echos which attempts to showcase the stark contrast we live through everyday.

Following the Desert Fox

This body of work was published in NatureinFocus on 18 May, 2017.

‘Sir, lomdi ka toh kya hai, kahin bhi ghar bana le’ (Sir, foxes can survive anywhere), my guide at Tal Chhapar said to me in 2013. 

The Desert Fox, also known as the White-footed Fox (Vulpes vulpes pusilla) is the most widely distributed carnivore in the world. It is a small, Asiatic subspecies of Red Fox that ranges through most of the northwestern Indian subcontinent, Pakistan's desert districts, Baluchistan, southern Iran, and Iraq. 

Like most other species, foxes too have been affected by habitat loss, but fortunately, their habitat is varied and they are extremely adaptive. Thanks to centuries of folklore and countless storybooks, words like ‘cunning’ and ‘shrewd’ are typically associated with the fox. In my view, it’s best to stay away from associating such adjectives with a species we know so little about. Like any other species, it must fight for survival and to continue its bloodline.

I have been following, and photographing, Desert Foxes for four years now, mostly in Rajasthan and the Little Rann of Kutch in Gujarat. 

This photo story is a visual representation of my journey.

The first time I photographed a Desert Fox was in 2013. The sighting was completely unexpected and I wasn’t ready for it. Of course, the first sighting is always exciting. Invariably, it is accompanied by a feeling of tension, a heightening of the senses. But since then, I’ve learned a lot. Photographing a Desert Fox involves lying flat on the ground in extreme heat and waiting patiently for long periods of time, sometimes for up to 5-6 hours. Blending into the environment with appropriate clothing and keeping movement to a bare minimum is very important, so the foxes don’t feel threatened and alter their normal behaviour.

It was in the Rann of Kutch when I finally saw the Desert Fox in close quarters. “It’s smaller than I expected’’ was my first thought, and later on, when I showed my photographs to my friends and family, that was their reaction too. Adults usually measure about 30-40cm in shoulder height, and don’t grow to more than 40-45cm in length.

The Desert Fox is the smallest of the three Red Fox subspecies found in India – the other two being the Himalayan or Hill Fox (Vulpes vulpes montana) and the Kashmir or Afghan Fox (Vulpes vulpes griffithi).

After I spent some time in her vicinity, this female became comfortable in my presence. It took a while, but then she looked straight at me – a stare that will stay with me forever. I knew I would be spending a lot of time with this subject in the future.

The Desert Fox is not to be confused with its close relative, the Indian Fox, although they share similar ranges. It’s easy to distinguish between the two. The Indian Fox has a black-tipped tail, the Desert Fox’s tail is brushed with white.

When I was photographing desert foxes in Tal Chhapar back in 2013, we saw something moving around a juli flora shrub, and stopped. ‘Maine joda dekha hai, sir’ (I have seen a pair here), my guide said. It is not a common sight to see a male and female desert fox together. The male made the first move and walked away with what seemed like a sense of purpose. The female stayed where she was. After a while, we saw the male pounce on something, and then return to the shrub where she was. He offered the kill (possibly a jird) to the female. By then, we had put our cameras away – there was too much obstructing our view. The pair approached each other briskly, carefully, with tails erect. When they get closer they started making some squeaking noises. They rubbed and pushed against each other, poking their noses into each other’s neck fur. Then they chased each other for a bit.  After a while they stopped, and stood quietly for some time, one putting a head over the other’s back. ‘Ab mating hoga, sir’ (Now they will mate) the guide said. We did not see anything for the next hour or so, but the movement in the bush told us they were still there.

Prime breeding season is around January. Mating pairs usually make a den with 2-3 or more entrances, near a juli flora tree. The roots act as an additional support to the foundation of the den, and its canopy offers shelter from the extreme heat. The female makes multiple dens in the same vicinity to protect her cubs from predators or any other environmental changes that might affect one of the dens.

When the pups are born, they are completely blind. Litters, usually of 2-4 pups, continue to be fed by their mother for about a month. In about two weeks’ time, they start to get curious and venture out of the den.

In their first 4-8 weeks of life, the pups remain fully dependent on their mother. Before they become solitary adults, they will be cared for by the mother, and at times, both parents.

I have often observed co-parenting behaviour in these foxes – the father helps the mother build the den, and helps hunt for prey to bring back to the pups.

It is a joy to see these pups play. Anything and everything can arouse their mischievous instincts once they are old enough to emerge from their den. I was struck by the size of this pup, hardly bigger than a feather.

Desert Foxes are nocturnal mammals, most active early in the morning or late in the evening. While photographing them, my day starts very early and ends very late. Shooting conditions tend to be challenging due to low light in twilight hours.

As with litters of other species, desert fox siblings often exhibit very different behaviour patterns – some are shy, some are extremely brave and curious.

Nose pushing, jaw wrestling, cheek rubbing, and facial licking are commonly observed behaviours. These gestures may appear to be signs of aggression, but they aren’t. However, foxes do emphasise their dominance by “standing over” and “riding up”.

Young foxes learn important survival skills for life through playful games, fights, and mock hunts. These behaviours are also a way to establish dominance within the family.

Sexual curiosity is common from a very early age. There’s little scientific research on this, but I’ve seen pups engaging in mock mating behaviour when they are about a month old. It's estimated that after about 12 months or so, they become mature enough to breed.

A fox pup performing a mock hunt. Being small in size, they pounce on their prey – typically rodents, lizards, jirds, small birds, and even hare at times. They also scavenge for food when they need to.

Foxes tend to move around human settlements in search of water and to scavenge. Seen here is a fox drinking water from a manmade water hole. They usually end up relying on resources that pet dogs or feral strays also make use of. For these reasons, fights with feral dogs are very common. Desert Foxes are difficult to chase down, but these fights often end badly for them, as dogs hunt in packs and the fox is a solitary mammal that is smaller in size. Their pups make for easy targets, and the dens are easy to find. Foxes are also commonly preyed on by larger mammals like the hyena, wolf and jackal.

After about 4-8 weeks of staying together, the pups leave the den they were born in. They will lead the rest of their lives as solitary animals, pairing up only to mate. 

Foxes are one of the most adaptive species. They thrive in all kinds of habitats, from grasslands to dry-deciduous forests to the dry and arid habitat of the Rann of Kutch.

These solitary carnivores survive, and thrive, in some of the most barren habitats in India

Why deserts matter?

They say that the shape of your cities is defined by the deserts you choose to protect.

Experts working on this theory established a clear relationship between the rainforests of the Amazon region and the Saharan Desert. It has been scientifically proven that rainforests, considered to be the lungs of the planet, cannot thrive without the desert. Dust, phosphorus and other nutrients are carried by the hot wind, and spread out into the forests, where they feed the local flora and allow natural plant growth. As such, without phosphorus transferred by the desert wind, the rainforests will not survive.

The sprawling cities of the world, in some way, depend on deserts for their survival.

Part of a series called Parallel Echos which attempts to showcase the stark contrast we live through everyday.

What the trees are telling us

“Trees, for example, carry the memory of rainfall. In their rings we read ancient weather—storms, sunlight, and temperatures, the growing seasons of centuries. A forest shares a history, which each tree remembers even after it has been felled.”

— Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces

I am no expert on trees, but I am a hopeless romantic. And I am guilty of calling trees ‘witnesses to the history of our times’ and not just ‘trees’. I can’t help but think about all the changes in season they would have survived and all the battles for dominance among various species they would have witnessed. And Anne Michaels could not have put it better when she wrote ‘a forest shares a history which each tree remembers even after it has been felled’. My series titled ‘The many moods of trees’ is a celebration of that.

My love affair with trees started on a cold winter morning at Jim Corbett National Park, home to the magnificent Sal Trees. Sal (Shorea rubusta) is a beautiful tree that often grows up to 35 to 40 m tall and has a distinct shining foliage.

If you stare at a Sal Tree long enough, you might see a tree that has the patience and calmness of a monk (pardon the anthropomorphism). All it wants to do is, take its time and slowly but surely aim for the sky. While doing so, it ensures the survival of other trees, shrubs, climbers, fungi, lichens, mosses and of course birds, mammals, reptiles and amphibians.

Sal Trees in Jim Corbett NP, India

In the book, ‘The Hidden Life of Trees’, the author Peter Wohlleben, makes an interesting case for the many sacrifices trees make on their way to personal and social growth. In the forest that he studied, he specifically observed how trees slow down and sacrifice growth today for a better tomorrow - the process that includes shedding leaves, depriving the young of enough light, and slowing down the growth. This slow growth is the key to ensuring that their inner woody cells are tiny and contain almost no air. That makes the trees flexible and resistant to breaking in storms.

Sacrifice at every stage, small or big, is a part of the life of a tree.

A solitary tree, or ones that are part of a forest, have so much to tell us. A tree does not go around the world to find beauty and joy, it lives its entire life and finds solitude in the same place. So if I had to take one lesson from them, it would be that home is where you are. Home is not a dreamlike destination in some other location, where everything will be perfect. It is not a place outside of us, it is inside of us, possibly a place we are yet to find.

The sands of time: An ode to a desert

“I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams”

— Antoine de Saint

For the longest time, I could not find the right word to describe the first thing that struck me about sand dunes in the Thar Desert. I discovered that word a few months back — ephemeral.

Ever since my first visit, I have been fascinated by the ephemeral nature of the sand dunes. My series on Portraits of a desert is an ode to that.

The only constant thing about deserts is change, and the sand dunes are not spared either. There is a constant ebb and flow — the form, shape, texture, and if we look close enough, the colour, depending on the mood of the sun and the clouds.

However, there is more to sand dunes than just that.

Every time I look at sand dunes, I am reminded of a book of history. All through the day and night, a lot unfolds on these sand dunes. Animals big and small, like, birds, insects and reptiles live on the dunes, some use them as a passage, while some use them as battlegrounds — predator and prey battle it out in the quest for survival. Explorers like us walk across the dunes; leaving behind our imprint.

But the dunes, quietly, nonchalantly remove all traces and return to the same pristine condition, but it is never the same again. When you return the next day, true to the ephemeral nature of the sand dunes, the shapes and formations are different.

So many layers of history are hidden beneath these dunes; plenty of stories, several victories and defeats, all buried in the sands of time.

The day we saw nothing in a forest

It was the last day of our trip to Corbett National Park and we were a little disappointed because it was a cold winter morning, and we had ‘seen’ nothing.

Then slowly, but surely, the light changed. The clouds cleared and the first rays of light seeped through the tall Sal trees, while a rich mist illuminated the land. A gentle breeze picked up golden dust from the little patches of dry earth below. The sun persisted and with all its strength, managed to win this battle. It lasted only for a few minutes but the scene will stay with me forever — the magic of winter mornings in forests. The mist will be back tomorrow, the sun will put up a fight again, but I won’t be there to witness the magic.

That day we saw nothing and saw everything.

And there began my love affair with trees, more on that here.

Parallel Echos

Parallel Echos is my latest body of work which showcases the intricate relationship between humans and nature.

The world we live in is a study in stark contrast. While we constantly question and make attempts to find answers about the state of our world, we always come back with the realisation that there are more questions and fewer answers, and things are not as straightforward as they seem.

A topic that has gained attention in the recent past, with necessary focus on environmental issues and ecological imbalance, is how we failed to co-exist in harmony with nature.

The enduring bond between humans and nature, often romanticised and revered, goes back a long way. So, doesn't it feel strange when we often have to choose between the two? Why should there have to be a choice between the two at all?

While I don’t have answers, what we can do is to observe the developments around us more closely. Make the the right choices if we have that option, and hope for a better future.

‘Parallel Echos attempts to showcase the stark contrast we live through everyday.