Self-Enforced Isolation.


You lock yourselves inside a cage to feel secure, restricting the real self from understanding and experiencing new things. This successfully isolates your thoughts from the much larger and (maybe) stranger pool of ideas, thus barring creativity. Strangely this seems like an absolute for a normal life. But is it necessary?

*The make-up in this image was done using sandal wood tree paste and pink colored powder was used for the dust.


The Practice of Orthodoxy.

Triple Orthodoxy

An triptych which is inspired by the three monkeys and topped with some irony. All the photos were clicked in natural with an additional LED lamp placed on the right.
Continue reading The Practice of Orthodoxy.

The Search for Purpose.



A self portrait I clicked after being high and bored for the entire weekend. The photo was captured by using a single flash mounted on the camera and bouncing from the ceiling. I used wheat flour on my face and also tossed some in the air.


The Dust of Everyday Life #StreetsofPune


Captured the photograph at the Hadapsar Gliding Center in Pune. It is a great place to have a gliding experience and the only one of its kind in entirety of India.


The boy with no Choice

I want to continue telling you stories behind some portraits I have captured over the last few years. I hope you enjoyed reading about Rahul in my last post. The protagonist of this story is Iqbal whom I met in Jaisalmer, a world heritage site, also known as ‘The Golden City’.

I knew little about Jaisalmer before arriving in the town early in the morning on the eve of sunrise. I had heard from a friend in Mumbai that it is a place worth visiting and he told me, ‘You should live inside the fort if your want to make the most out of it.’ So I did stay at an affordable backpacker lodge inside this architectural marvel. Continue reading The boy with no Choice


The boy on a Train

I entered the seater coach on a train from Udaipur to Ajmer so that I can finally get to Pushkar. There were a few empty seats on the train and it was a surprise because back in Mumbai the locals were the only affordable way to get around the city and they are always full of people.

But something did not feel right, I got weird looks from other passengers and I bet someone must have thought, ‘He looks weird, like someone who can’t be trusted.’ It could have been because I looked like shit. I was wearing a short white kurta, stained with dust, food and God knows what other mess people leave behind on those sleeper buses. My jeans had not been washed since a couple of weeks and on my back was the standard backpackers rucksack, a tripod and another bag over the front which I simply call the quick access bag and it includes an assortment of things like – my cellphone, change money, music player, a bottle of water, camera filters, wet tissues, deodorant, random magazines on travel or photography, my guide book, a miniature glow-in-the-dark T-Rex skeleton (which I got back in the days when McDonalds had newly opened in Pune and could be the very first happy meal toy I ever got), a pack of Benson Lights, a clipper and a few weirdly shaped and coloured rocks not bigger than the size of my toe nail. Now this bag is very important when you go backpacking, but that is for another story. Continue reading The boy on a Train