Every photographer must have a subject that calls to them; in my case it is trees and the sky. Both seem to me to be emblems of sublimity in an often drab and ugly world. I pass through cement jungles and squalid railway lines everyday, often grimacing, for I want to perceive some beauty so very desperately. And then, as I despair, the blue and white of sky and some beguiling pattern of green sustains me.

Trees, enchant me. And more often than not, I venture out without my camera, and I see tree upon interesting tree, and gnash my teeth at missing my shot! A feeling I’m sure most photographers will identify with. But I also wonder, how is it possible for a person to carry a camera with one every waking minute? The mind- eye recorder sometimes has to suffice. Alas, that I cannot paint to save my life!

A tree is an institution in itself. It reflects the mood of the season and also projects something indefinable of its own upon its surroundings. In spring, when the leaves fall off them, the intricate patterns of different branch systems speak to me of the inner life of the tree.

One spring, I even felt that they were trying to speak to me, and ever since, I have been photographing them to find that hidden message; but it still remains elusive. Then at different times of the year they flower, each, in glorious celebration. The monsoon light on green is pure poetry!

And sometimes in the morning mist…they dance!

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