Before I understood cyanotype, blue was just a colour. Now, it feels like a memory slowly appearing on paper. When the photograph still felt unfinished There came a point in my photographic journey when I realized that making the image was not enough. I was developing my films, scanning them carefully, and spending time understanding the negatives. Yet, even after all of that, it felt incomplete. The photograph still existed behind a screen, distant from the physicality I had

Why did a place marked by destruction feel so complete? Why did what remained feel enough? I did not have an answer then; I only continued to return. Hampi was, at first, just another place with ruins and sculptures. It was a landscape of stone, history, and remnants of what once stood complete. Yet, it continued to be worshipped, lived in, and carried forward by the people who called it home. That contrast stayed with me. It made me curious. My journey with Hampi began more

Some places ask you to come back — not for what they show, but for what you become each time you stand there again. Here are ten reasons why I return to the places I visited.

Large-format photography is not just about using a bigger camera or film size — it’s about slowing down enough to truly see. It invites a kind of stillness that modern photography often rushes past. The inspirations for working in this format are not limited to technique; they emerge from the deeper relationship between the photographer, the subject, and the passing of time. Rediscovering the act of seeing With a large-format camera, seeing becomes deliberate. You compose o