Transformation in a fortnight - Season’s own rhythm

Winter's First Brush

Sometimes, the most striking transformations are not the ones I plan to witness — they unfold quietly, between days, without much fanfare. Flying over the Pir Panjal range into Srinagar has, over time, become my own seasonal barometer. A reminder that changes in nature, much like in life, often reveals itself gently — unannounced, unnoticed. But with a camera in hand, I am always alert and it never fails to move me.

In mid-September, the mountains appeared stark and bare, their slopes brushed in shades of yellow, brown, and green. The afternoon sun was harsh, flattening every contour and muting every hue. The grandeur felt subdued, almost weary — as if the land was exhaling after summer’s intensity. These frames are rarely spectacular, yet they carry their own quiet power. The barrenness, the soft light, the play of shadow — all whispering that the land was waiting.

And then, almost without warning, the waiting ended.

Two weeks later, the same mountains stood transformed. The forecast had spoken only of rain, but nature had other plans. As the flight neared the range again, familiar ridges emerged through drifting clouds — now shimmering under a soft, white veil. The season’s first snow had arrived unannounced, turning the parched peaks into glistening sculpture.

From the air, it looked as though the world below had been washed clean — the clouds parting for a brief moment to reveal a landscape reborn. The scene lasted barely a minute before the mist closed in again. Yet in that fleeting instant, suspended between seasons, I felt as if nature had shared a quiet secret — a gentle reminder that transformation had already begun its work.

In the span of a fortnight, the mountains had rewritten their story. From scorched silence to soft brilliance. And this is why I document — not to chase perfection, but to remember that every landscape carries the memory of what it was and the promise of what it will become.

Transformation, after all, isn’t just nature’s rhythm — it’s her way of reminding me to keep observing, stay patient, and keep learning the art of seeing through the lens.