Hampi journals: My typical day as a photographer

A day in Hampi doesn’t begin with the camera. It begins with awareness. I wake up before the first light hits across the boulders. There is no rush to step out immediately. I take time to prepare, not just the gear, but myself. Photography, for me, has never been about reacting to scenes. It is about being ready when they reveal themselves. And no matter how many times I return, I make sure to watch the sunrise every time I’m in Hampi. It is less about the view, and more about beginning the day with intention.

Preparing for a shoot in Hampi is simple, yet deliberate. I check my camera, my lenses, my film or settings but more importantly, I align my mind. I decide nothing about what I want to shoot, I only remind myself to observe.

Exploring Hampi

Every day feels like a continuation, not a new beginning. Exploring Hampi is not about covering locations, it is about returning to the same spaces with a different state of mind. The stone pathways, the temples, the open landscapes, they don’t change dramatically, but the way light moves across them does. And so does the way I respond to them. Some days I walk for hours without taking a single photograph. And that, to me, is still a part of photography.

Between people and place

Hampi, for me, is not just a landscape. It is people. Over time, faces become familiar. Conversations become easier and slowly, you become a part of the place, not as a visitor, but as someone who returns.

Arif, the local sugarcane vendor, was my first friend in Hampi. What began as a simple interaction slowly became a connection I now look forward to every time I return. Rahul, the local tea shop owner, is someone I often sit with, conversations flowing as naturally as the coffee he serves.

I gifted Basavaraj a frame of the photo I clicked with my Rolleiflex of him and his grandmother

Basavaraj, the local guide who also owns a tea shop (he prepares the best ginger chai I have ever tasted! I also hope to write a full article about Basava's story soon), and Shankara, one of the security personnel, today treat me like a part of their family. They both have become location leads for my projects at Hampi, guiding me not just to places, but to perspectives I would have otherwise missed. Manju, who runs a homestay, always makes sure there is a room for me whenever I visit. That gesture, repeated over time, carries a sense of care that goes beyond hospitality.

And then there are many others, restaurant owners, waiters, residents, humble people of Hampi who, over time, have made me feel like I belong. Like I am a part of something larger than just a visit. These are not planned interactions. They happen because I return and with each return, these connections deepen.

Places I return to

There are a few restaurants in Hampi that have become part of my routine. Not because of the menu, but because of familiarity. I sit there, sometimes with a camera beside me, sometimes without it. Conversations flow, about the day, about the tourists, about life beyond Hampi. Networking here is not about intention. It happens naturally, through time, presence, and repeated visits.

Also read: Why I return: The places that grow with me

Discipline beyond photography

My time in Hampi is shaped as much by my inner discipline as by the external world. I follow a certain way of living, waking early, grounding myself before stepping out, allowing the day to unfold without force. This rhythm influences how I approach photography. It keeps me from rushing, and forcing images. It reminds me that not every day needs to produce a photograph. Some days are meant to prepare you for the next.

If you are interested in a personalized photography workshop at Hampi, read here for details.

Where the day leads

As the day unfolds, I find myself moving between spaces, sometimes with intent, often without it. A moment appears. A frame reveals itself and I respond. That is how most of my photographs in Hampi are made, not through planning, but through presence.

Closing reflection

A typical day in Hampi, for me, is not defined by the number of images I make. It is defined by how I move through the place. Exploring Hampi as a photographer is not about chasing locations, it is about returning, observing, connecting with the land, the people, and myself, and somewhere between those moments, the photograph happens.