Harvesting wheat

We had decided to take a long drive along National Highway 7. S & I, along with a few of my photographer friends from office. Our plan was to drive to the Kuntala falls, around 250 km from the city. We tried to be cautious while making our plans to ensure that we're in the car when we have harsh sunlight and in a suitable spot when light is good. We were aware of course of the perils of over-planning and knew that on-the-spot changes were imminent. There were many variables and uncertainties.

For some reason, I was a little to hung up in general. I wanted to shoot sunflower fields during dusk! I was thinking partial silhouettes, golden rays and suchlike. Needless to say, we didn't have the opportunity. Being intuitive has made photography fulfilling for me, but today I was planning. I was definitely hung up on something!

The highway is excellently maintained in parts(for which you pay a heavy toll) allowing you to cruise along. Though the warm sun remained, the chilly wind made the weather most pleasant.

It began like this - unable to locate our way to the waterfalls (despite being very close), due to almost non-existent road-signs/directions, we found our way to another tiny waterfalls called Pochera. It's an excuse for a waterfall; even a leak in a man-made tank makes more water flow out in an interesting manner! This place had a little pool though which kids from nearby villages found most amusing. We were not impressed! Especially after the exorbitant parking charges. As the evening drew near and light became perfect, we were faced with the dilemma whether to skip our original destination and return, trying to catch the sunset on a suitable spot along the highway, or make a quick visit to the falls before returning, which we had managed to find directions to, with help from the locals. The latter was chosen based on consensus.

The narrow winding lane that led to the waterfalls was as beautiful as villages in these parts can get. It was in a valley surrounded by small hills. Beautiful fields of all shades from the darkest green to the palest yellow lined the roads on either side. The evening sun seemed to bounce off them in joy. Lined barbed-wire fences, severely leaning electric posts kept upright by the wires they hold, sloped red roofs lit up in the gentle evening sun added to the laid-back atmosphere. Bullock-carts passed by, so did farmers, children, women returning from the fields carrying the day's harvest in sacks upon their heads... It was lively, and there were happy vibes in the air. From the car, I made a mental note of what I saw, even the perfectly backlit girl standing before a setting sun. We would stop on our way back. But as the way to the waterfalls seemed much longer than we imagined, it was apparent that the sun would disappear behind the hills before we could return. I had a good mind to give it a skip and stay behind but on the surface it would look silly, as convention would dictate. It could not happen.

These were large waterfalls - a place to picnic, to dip one's feet inside little pools and so on. But we didn't we have time to climb all the way down and come back. And of course, by the time we returned, there was no sunlight left on the beautiful rural scenes. And even when there were opportunities to shoot, I was too disappointed to pick up the camera. I just walked along the little ridges separating the fields, breathed in the fresh air and watched the beautiful sunset. That's as good a way to spend an evening as any.

Despite it being a good day, as days become in good company, I'm filled with a bit of regret at opportunities lost. It should make us all return.

In retrospect, it's always easy to say "If only..." But given our circumstances, I think we made reasonable choices. And though it didn't work out well in terms of photography, it'll be ignorant to blame our decisions. Haven't seen much of whatever I shot, but here's another alternative.