Trying to tell you the tales of four faces in this mystic land.
An old woman
with "Wrinkles of Wrath" just passes through my lens to earn daily wages by
carrying stones from the dried river. These stones will be a part of tall infrastructure
in materialistic metropolis.
I am walking and climbing, gazing my quest for images
and I find an old man who has been walking and climbing, to and fro, for years
and years to protect a cellular tower in the Himalayas. I go there for
breathtaking views but he goes there for pennies.
Down I come,
by the trails, through the springs, and my eyes pry the most beautiful face who poses to me, with the "cream of dirt" in
her face and the "gel of mud" in her hairs.
I look beyond
her eyes and contemplate on her struggle to survive in a patriarchal society
and agony of being one among the five sisters with no brothers.
Again, the "Wrinkles of Wrath" reflect on her
mesmerizing eyes.
