Framed in: A blooming flower is always a delight to behold. The freshness it exudes is almost indescribable. Add a few tiny droplets of water clinging to its petals, and the whole world seems renewed. Whether it’s the flower itself or those glistening droplets that infuse it with such vitality, one thing is certain: these small details can bring a sense of freshness to nearly anything.
Newness is an essential part of life. There’s something inherently exciting about anything new—a book, a dress, a pen, or even a new word we’ve learned. But as time marches on, everything inevitably ages, and our initial enthusiasm fades. When we can no longer find novelty in the things we do, life starts feeling monotonous, a mundane cycle that leaves us bored and weary.
To keep life vibrant, we must nurture that sense of freshness. Just as those droplets of water bring a flower to life, we need to discover the small moments of newness in everything we do and see. If we can find something new each day, life will never grow dull. The world is vast, filled with endless possibilities for rediscovery—you just have to put in a bit more effort to uncover the hidden nuances in the ordinary.
There’s always something waiting to surprise us: the music of raindrops, the lines we overlooked in a poem, the unexpected flavors in a familiar dish cooked by mom. Once we learn to recognize these subtleties, life transforms into a kind of meditation—where each moment becomes an opportunity to rediscover ourselves and be reborn over and over again. What could be fresher than rebirth? It’s always a new beginning.
So let’s embrace life as if we’re newborns every moment, constantly renewing ourselves by finding those droplets of newness. Live fully, with a heart open to the infinite wonders around us, and let each second be a fresh start.
Framed out: This photograph was taken on one of those gray, uninspiring days in Munnar during my time working on the estate. At that point, I felt creatively drained, overwhelmed by the routine logistics and mathematical calculations that dominated my thoughts. Despite feeling stuck, there was a persistent drive to reconnect with the more creative and romantic sides of my mind.
Whenever I could find a moment, I’d escape on my 1962 Royal Enfield with my Yashica camera, seeking out opportunities to photograph what I loved. Time was scarce, caught up as I was in the complexities of estate life, and I admit I struggled to find newness in my daily tasks. Yet, I made an effort to capture whatever freshness I could find.
This particular photo emerged from one of those moments. After breakfast, as I was heading back to the field, I was feeling the usual weight of routine. But then, a flower caught my eye—its delicate beauty enhanced by the diffused morning sunlight and the dew drops clinging to its petals. It stirred something in me, breaking through the monotony.
I quickly grabbed my Yashica FX3, loaded with Fuji 200 film, and took the shot. Even now, this frame carries the scent of those dry days spent in the estate, a reminder of a time when I found solace in small, fleeting moments of beauty.
Grey Frames: Do not say, ‘It is morning,’ and dismiss it with a name of yesterday. See it for the first time as a newborn child that has no name. Rabindranath Tagore
