A small homestead sits in the fold of the valley beneath green mountains.
Areca palms rise out of the plantation under a heavy sky.Morning bath time for the forest's working elephants, a mahout climbing aboard.
Looking up through the hollow of a great tree.
A boy swims face down through the dark water, his red shorts the brightest thing in the river.Two cattle rest in the shade of a whitewashed shed, one with long curved horns.
Drums at dusk, the procession gathering along the roadside.An auto rickshaw pulls over on a winding mountain road.
Two bathers laugh beneath the falls as the water hammers down on their shoulders.Coffee plants fill the understory beneath tall shade trees.
A grin and a thumbs up from behind the wheel of an auto rickshaw.
A scooter passes a wall painted in bold blue and white.A coconut palm towers over the tin rooftops.
A single pink rose blooms against a white wall.
Batter poured onto the griddle at an evening stall.A stilted cottage hides among the trees, light breaking through the canopy.
A young woman sits on the rock face, chin in hand, the forest all around her.
A macaque keeps watch from the wall.Painted images of Krishna and Lakshmi fill the shelves of a small shop.
Families scatter across the granite below the falls, a few brave enough to wade into the pool.
Two young men ride a motorcycle along the mountain road, the valley falling away behind them.A monkey walks the power line across a pink and blue dusk.
A rider on a scooter waits beside a yellow and green auto rickshaw in traffic.
A mahout rides his tusker down to the river, neither of them in any hurry.An old jeep rests in the clearing beside stacks of clay roof tiles, the forest pressing in.
A night ride by auto rickshaw, headlights streaking through the rain.A painted deity sits among the gods, bronze figures lined up at its feet.
From the back seat of an auto rickshaw, the road climbs into green hills with a truck close enough to touch.A shopkeeper sits among jars and hanging snack packets in her tiny store.
Neon shop signs light a wet street at night.
Street dogs lounge in the road, one staring straight into the lens.Shoppers and mannequins crowd the front of the Designer clothing store.
Sparks fly white against a bright blue shutter.A young woman rests her chin in her hand on a mossy boulder, the forest quiet around her.
A cutout of a muscle-bound rooster flexes outside the egg shop while a man laughs as he walks by.Laundry dries on a fence in front of a pink house and the hills.
A kolam drawn in chalk on the morning pavement.
Blue ridges fold one behind another into the haze.Power lines drop away down the mountainside toward the hazy plains.
Someone squeezes through a narrow crack in the rock, sandaled feet and a bright sari the last things left in the light.
The forest falls away to a misty valley and the road winding through it.Street dogs doze in the dust outside the roadside shops.
A boy in a helmet grins over his handlebars on a green lane.
A spinning light show glows on the ceiling of an auto rickshaw at night.Tea country, the hills combed into green rows.
A street dog picks her way across a hillside of plastic and looks back, as if to ask what we expected.A chained dog peers out from a corner of a turquoise wall.
