Village life in Goa.
These coveys at Goan village intersections late in the evenings are a familiar sight.
Dwindling open spaces.
As a rule, I keep this blog free of politics. This post is an exception.
Not long go, the benisons of Goa were its wide open spaces, unspoilt hills, forests, tranquil rivers, and virgin beaches. The beaches were the first to be laid low. Then they went for its open spaces, its wild hills and its forests. The relentless march of concretization is on (pure Third World in design and quality) and the situation has gotten to be dire now.
When Manohar Parrikar was returned as Chief Minister in 2012, there was much joy and Goans nursed great hope that he would stem the tide and preserve what was left of Goa. Alas, that hope has turned out to be false. His administration is as venal as the one that preceded it. Clearly, an IIT education does not imbue one with wisdom. Apropos of the sorry Manohar Parrikar, Einstein’s quip comes to mind: the man can calculate but he cannot think.
Filigree in sand.
Recently I took a special flight over the southern Highlands of Iceland in a Cessna 207 equipped with open windows. I got very lucky with the conditions: diffused light of the high clouds interspersed with glancing sun beams. It will take me some time to sort through the photo shoot. For now, a few teasers.