The drive across central India – from a tiger reserve in Bandhavgarh to the ancient city of Khajuraho – was rather dull. After several hours, we came to the town of Satna. Our driver, an Indian native who was intrigued by my camera, suggested that we walk over to the busy railway station to get “good picture.” On the platform, I feasted on the aesthetic elements of the railroad, but a few feet way was an old man wearing bright red and beige robes. He had flyaway silver hair and a marvelous beard, the archetype of a holy man. I scrambled to take his picture, fearing that I had missed the prime shot. Later, I was astonished to see his hair’s richness, his dark wrinkled face, and the bright colors of his clothes.
Imran Cronk 