I have positioned the tripod steady, the camera gear ready, and my eyes flicker far at the misty horizon. I looked around the place wrapped in silence and shadows; itās too early to spot the movement of the Sunday morning jogging enthusiasts. Sweat rolled from the forehead on my eyes caused an irritating mood as I stood glaring at a gloomy morning and cloudy dark blue patches in the sky. I felt sulky gazing at the lazy skyline, reluctant to come out in yellow illumination, golden colours rolling out a brilliant sunrise. It is the disappointing fourth Sunday I havenāt snapped my shutter.
I encountered similar washout unable to chase the sunset without luck, though waited long enough for the hues of red, orange, and crimsons. It has been a week of Sundays that I sat staring at the blue ripples of river Krishna refusing to lift the golden curtain to reveal the orange ball; instead, I peered at theĀ dull grey skies and flat twinkling stars.
For many days following, I resigned myself to cursing, āIām there on wrong time when the Sun isnāt in a mood to grace or when the Sun is up and bright, Iām not there at the right time.ā I used to feel disappointed to watch the yellow Sun on fire in the East when Iām ill-prepared, and skies brushed up with bright colours at evenings when Iām resentfully preoccupied. Whatever, I recorded no shots of the radiant Sun on my camera for a long time.
One Sunday morning,Ā I looked out to find the city got drenched in an unusual blast of a downpour, I let myself stay warm at home. By mid-day, surprisingly it was sparklingly bright, Sun seemed friendly and benevolent. Nothing else to do in the evening, I drove out to one of the secluded hangouts of the river Krishna.
Finding no fireworks, inspiration at the horizon, lazily, I set up my tools, rolled in a few routine āfocus and clickā evening reflections. There isnāt anything exciting to stay back save the dull twilight glow. I packed up my gear and was about to fold down my tripod. Far at a distance, I noticed glowing reddish collusion at the horizon; I could see a bright red ball descending into the river. My spirits soared at the miracle sizzling before me.Ā Ā For the next fifteen minutes, the ebbing Sun drew magical artistry on the dark grey sky and the shadowed ripples beneath.
It has been a serendipitous bonus. How lucky and alert I took on the gathering night: the sunset and twilight images speak graphically of my sunny break.
