Indian Railways v/s Extempore

Indian Railways does not wish me to take photographs of my journey or, for that matter, even have a decent one. Five years and too many trips have worn this statement into the sleepers and a heartbreaking, empirical truth. I am going to, however, leave aside the whining about my co-passengers and perorate on the "photographys" instead.

Photography is difficult usually, but at an average speed of 60 kmph, I think it's a kiss from impossible - especially if you are a rookie. By the time you've composed your frame and adjusted the light settings, the subject is so long gone that you wonder if you dreamed it.

Should you have, by some act of God and foresight, managed to get your shot in focus, framed and adjusted, it's a certainty that you are going to be fighting off the compartment door, which has nothing - I repeat, NOTHING - to hold it in place. So while you may have a perfect shot, you'll also be dead. Like while I was taking this shot, the door came swinging shut, blithe as you please.

There I was - holding onto the railing with one hand and my camera with the other, praying for dear life. A kindly old gent, on his way back from the bathroom, grabbed hold of me and held the door open. He had disturbing, ickily wet hands but I don't think I'm in a postition to complain, yes? :-)

Few things match the unmitigated championship of the tap on my shoulder mid-frame from the extra-loud and hearty man who asks if I am taking photographys. No, but I'll let you into the secret - am scuba diving; please don't tell the fish.

He well could have ruined this shot. Two farmers/labourers sitting down to what could be either a late lunch or just a moment's reprieve from the unforgiving sun, relentless humidity and back-breaking field work.

As with every train journey I take, it never fails to astonish me what a beautiful country we live in. And this has been my reaction for as long as I can remember. Sheer joy physically bubbles inwardly and makes me want to break into an altogether off-key and solely un-listenable-to rendition of "The Sound Of Music."

Landscape-wise, passing through Andhra Pradesh is so different from my ride through Kerala a few years ago. Kerala is like a watery, green explosion. Everywhere you look, there's a verdance so lush and plentiful. And yes, numberless bridges over lakes, ponds and the backwaters to cross. It also has what I think of as a darksome energy - something roiling, hiding in that luxuriance. I am not sure if it is negative or not, but exist it does.

Andhra Pradesh is all rock, plain, and undulating field. It is all predominant yellows and browns with afterthought green and does make for difficult photography. Andhra Pradesh has a hardier landscape - one that is unforgiving and severe. There seems to me a transparency I do not associate with Kerala. This is not a comment on the people, you understand, as much as the "physical environs" of these states. I am not sure if this even makes sense.

I've not been to very many places in India, but in my meagre travels, the unmitigated beauty of terrain like the image below always, quite simply and tritely, takes my breath away. No matter what state it is.

It also makes me want to kick myself for not being a travel writer or doing something that pays me to travel. Because at this point, I can't think of anything else I'd rather do with my life. Wouldn't you too?

Since I was at the train door afternoon onward, the chances of my getting a sunset shot were decent, I'd say. And indubitably, as the wind turned and the sun began to sink, the crazy compartment door or the annoying co-passengers didn't matter. There was just me and my frame in a moment that can only be described as delicious. I hope you like this. :-)

Postscript: Should you want to see some more of the train ride, here you go.