Day and Night

Back in 1998, when I was living in Bangalore, I often found myself captivated by the beauty of nature. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I sketched the silhouette of coconut trees against the vibrant hues of the sunset. The tranquility of that moment stayed with me, but it also sparked a curious thought—what becomes of the beach once we leave? Do the waves still hum their endless lullaby, or does the shore grow silent in our absence? Does the night bring new stories, even without an audience?

One night, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, a thought struck me—what if I returned to that very spot? Would the coconut trees look as majestic as they did at sunset, or would the moonlight cast a different spell? Driven by this whim, I revisited the place. Under the silvery beams of the moon, the scene transformed entirely. The same trees, now cloaked in a gentle, ethereal light, stood as silent witnesses to the dance of shadows. That became my second image—a contrast between the fiery farewell of the sun and the serene embrace of the moon.