Old things and all those that have lived to tell the tale, stand tall and beautiful in my eyes. I have a fascination for them and a reverence that cannot be expressed in words. I was going through my archives and found some such treasures that I had photographed months ago . . On a gorgeous winter’s day last year, when walking about the Tsunami hit shores of a fishing village on the southern most tip of the subcontinent, that I met these wonderful old souls — wrecked fishing boats that have had to endure much in silence over the years. They stood still but I could feel them breathe. And rooted deeply to their land and ocean, the winter skies bathing them in a surreal light, adding to their otherworldliness. Quiet, wise spectators of life as it carries on; past all the things and hardships they have endured.
” Everything about him was old except his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.”
~ from The old man and the sea by Ernest Hemingway
Muttom (a Tsunami hit village near Kanyakumari), December 2009