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Sun, Star, Daylight, Warmth, Source, Power and God - the may ways we refer to Sol. A piece of energy we were endowed with from the vast unknown of the universe. The fusion process inside, radiating packets of life giving energy and propelling it towards us with abandon. The power of any energy is palpable in its beginning and its end - the sunrise and the sunset.

We often miss both, the sunrise and the sunset. The sunrise since we were busy burning the midnight oil, studying, working, binging, making love to strangers or future strangers who are close now, hoping for a new dawn to receive us. A dawn that never comes since we never make it past our habits and often the modern-midnight-hustle culture perpetrates unnatural sleeping patterns, caffeine ridden restlessness and stress laden cluttered brain signals. The sunset since we seldom acknowledge it exists, except when a director chooses to make you nostalgic about it in her movies where protagonists are doing Spain trips for bachelor parties or "Being-Musafir" and finding their passion, travelling the world. Stop and think about last time you ever saw a sunset and marvelled at it, and I will tell you why in a bit. But, for now, STOP. THINK. REMINESCE.

The sunrise is on many a bucket lists but lets talk about the road-less-travelled-by, the Sunset, the purdah of our planet, the harbinger of dark and the effervescent waft of the day saying goodbye, bringing the curtains down on its daily act. Being the climax, the Sunset is full of DRAMA. As Thoreau says, "We never tire of the drama of sunset. I go forth each afternoon and look into the west with fresh curiosity, to see what new picture will be painted there, what new panorama exhibited, what new dissolving views. […] Every day a new picture is painted and framed, held up for half and hour, in such lights as the Great Artist chooses, and then withdrawn, and the curtain falls."

These pictures were taken on one such day of observing the sunset and marvelling at the Sol flexing its artistic skills. Firstly, the canvas. The sky, no doubt, is vast. The funnier thing is, the closer we look at the sky, the vaster it gets. In time you become a part of the canvas. Then, the palette. The drama that sunsets require are drawn by the innumerable shades that the Sol possesses. It is frankly unfair to compare it to any human creation. And then the Sol adds its little creations to the scenery - a group of trees adding a dash of emerald, the clouds adding layers and depth and a flock of birds dotting the vast expanse to finish. The sun paints a moving canvas and grants beauty to each frame.

The Sol, parts ways reminding us of the beauty that is ever present, getting ready to illuminate another part of this planet while we sleep, getting ready for its curtain call next day. The majority of men take this for granted. Men record their steps, calories, partners, money, grudges and status but neglect the beauty of sunsets. I hope we count these, I hope we record these, I hope we look out of our screens. And those roused to carry on more, may listen to Thoreau - "When I consider how, after sunset, the stars come out gradually in troops from behind the hills and woods, I confess that I could not have contrived a more curious and inspiring sight"


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