Sanwal Deen
Through the window of the vehicle, a scene unfolds that speaks to both the grandeur of history and the bustle of modern life. The Badshahi Mosque in Lahore stands resplendent, its domes and minarets soaring against a canvas of unblemished blue. These architectural marvels reach skyward with a stately grace that has witnessed centuries pass like fleeting whispers. Birds circle the minarets, their flight tracing invisible patterns in the air, an elegant dance to accompany this silent symphony. Below, trees unfurl their shades of green—silent witnesses to tales untold. The road hums with movement; cars stream along it like veins carrying life's cadence through this vibrant cityscape. In this encapsulated view from the car window—an intersection of past and present—Lahore's heartbeat can be felt gently pulsating through every element captured in that moment before it slips away into memory.

دریائے سندھ

غزل اردو شاعری کی ایک صنف ہے جو روحانی اور رومانوی محبت جیسے موضوعات پر مبنی ہوتی ہے۔ اسے محبوب سے جدائی یا کھو جانے کے درد اور اس کے باوجود محبت کی خوبصورتی کے شاعرانہ اظہار کے طور پر سمجھا جا سکتا ہے۔

سندھ میری پاکستان کے نام غزل ہے—وہ گھر جس سے میں ہجرت کر چکا ہوں، وہ گھر جس کی مجھے تمنا ہے۔

The Indus

The ghazal is a form of urdu poetry that deals with topics of spiritual and romantic love and may be understood as a poetic expression of both the pain of loss or separation from the beloved and the beauty of love in spite of that pain.

The Indus is my ghazal to Pakistan, a home I migrated from, a home I long for. 
Colorful painting on the back of a Pakistani Bedford truck
Through the dark, intricate silhouettes of trees and bushes, a vibrant yellow field of flowers unfurls under the clear expanse of sky. The deep serenity of blue above forms a striking contrast to the radiant field below, each element intensifying the beauty of the other. This natural frame draws one in, an invitation to lose oneself in thought and reverie amidst such lush splendor.
Through the window of the vehicle, a scene unfolds that speaks to both the grandeur of history and the bustle of modern life. The Badshahi Mosque in Lahore stands resplendent, its domes and minarets soaring against a canvas of unblemished blue. These architectural marvels reach skyward with a stately grace that has witnessed centuries pass like fleeting whispers. Birds circle the minarets, their flight tracing invisible patterns in the air, an elegant dance to accompany this silent symphony. Below, trees unfurl their shades of green—silent witnesses to tales untold. The road hums with movement; cars stream along it like veins carrying life's cadence through this vibrant cityscape. In this encapsulated view from the car window—an intersection of past and present—Lahore's heartbeat can be felt gently pulsating through every element captured in that moment before it slips away into memory.
colorful lanterns hanging from a tree
A boy in a striped shirt and a red cap stood alone at the water’s edge, where the pond mirrored back an otherworldly stillness. Geometric structures emerged, as if defying the natural order, their angular forms breaking through the glassy surface. Nearby, seated on ancient stone steps that bore the weight of history and time, another boy turned his gaze toward the water. He seemed lost in thought, perhaps contemplating something far beyond his years. Shadows played upon the stonework around them, creating an intricate dance of light and darkness that whispered secrets of all who had passed before them in this hallowed place.
Satpara Lake on a Sunny day
In a modest room adorned with the simplicity of a world left behind, an elderly woman sits quietly. Time has etched wisdom and stories into her warm smile, each creased line an echo of her journey. Draped in a dark shawl that envelops her fragile frame like an old, familiar embrace, she exudes a serene dignity. The gentle lighting caresses her face, casting delicate shadows that dance upon the textured fabric of the shawl. Behind her, barely discernible against the neutral backdrop, lurks the outline of age-worn furniture—a silent witness to countless yesterdays.
The narrow street, framed by ancient brick edifices, whispers of forgotten eras. The air carries the mingled scents of street vendors' fare and the distant traces of history, as if each brick exudes stories of long-ago days. Amidst this timeless tableau, a motorbike hums—a modern incursion in an old-world setting. Laden with bulging sacks and parcels that teeter precariously on its sides, it manages to bear not just goods but four souls clinging in unison. They pass through a grand arched gateway forged from the same sepia-toned bricks that have borne witness to countless generations. The overwhelming presence of the past wraps around them like an ancestral quilt even as everyday life trudges resolutely forward. In this fleeting moment where history and mundanity intersect, one can almost see time folding back onto itself—each era touching another briefly before moving along its path.
A dusty road with the mountains in the background
The silhouette of a man seen in the snow
A Pakistani cab-driver waits for a ride outside KFC.
A school-boy going home across desert Sand-dunes in the Katpana desert
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A view of a small village near the banks of the Indus on a sunny afternoon
Fisherman cleaning a yellow Kayak
A view of the river running through Katpana desert shot in infrared.
Indus-Dreams-29
Indus-Dreams-62
On a sunlit afternoon, where the light fell generously upon a bustling street, he stood—an unobtrusive figure marked by the simplicity of his attire. The black sweater clung to shoulders that seemed resigned, while the khaki pants hinted at pragmatism rather than fashion. Behind him, pedestrians moved like fleeting shadows in an indistinct painting; their hurried lives reduced to mere blurs against the concrete expanse of an overpass. His beard framed a face that held no illusion of mirth—eyes steady and unsmiling, capturing something deeper than what the casual observer might discern. He looked directly into the lens that recorded this moment, as if anchoring himself amidst the eternal transience surrounding him.
People crammed in a commuter white van peer through the window
Green hills with dramatic lighting in Deosai National park
The photograph captures a solitary moment, stark in its monochrome simplicity. An elderly woman, wrapped in the gentle embrace of an old blanket, sits in a weathered chair outside her home. Her head is swathed in a towel—perhaps a relic of recent ablutions—suggesting the rhythms and rituals of her long life. Before her kneels a young girl, who might be a granddaughter or simply someone from the neighborhood drawn to her quiet presence. The girl's small hands cradle a cup tenderly as one offers it while the other reaches out to meet the woman's frail fingers. Their connection forms an unspoken bridge across generations. Sunlight pours generously into this tableau, casting delicate shadows and illuminating their bond—a silent exchange laden with history, care, and continuity amidst life's ever-changing scenery.
A man going home during a sandstorm in Katpana desert
A truck driver poses for a photo inside his decorated truck
Clouds expanding from behind a mountaintop
As the sun began its descent, casting a gentle lavender hue across the sky, a solitary figure pedaled through the tranquil countryside. Encased in traditional attire that flowed with each turn of the bicycle wheels, they navigated a path flanked by fields of whispering grass. The cool evening air carried hints of earth and foliage, wrapping them in an embrace familiar yet ever new. In the distance, modest wooden structures stood nestled among the crops—silent sentinels witnessing the passage of time and seasons. The azure expanse above gracefully shifted to deeper shades of indigo and violet, mirroring the quiet transition from day to night—a serene backdrop to this timeless journey.
Beneath an ornate archway, where shadows draped like heavy curtains, a figure stood. Clad in garments stitched with the echoes of ancestral threads, they gazed into the vast expanse beyond. The sun bathed the field in an almost divine light, contrasting starkly with the cool dimness that enveloped them. Trees swayed subtly at nature's whimsy while power lines sliced through the sky, a reminder of modernity's unforgiving grasp amidst pastoral serenity. The scene held a fleeting balance—a juxtaposition between tradition and progression, belonging and distance—capturing an unspoken narrative wrapped in silence and sunlight.
A man lingered at the edge of the sidewalk, his gaze fixed on the slightly fogged window of a modest barbershop. Painted in delicate, curling script, the sign above announced
In the sultry, golden light of late afternoon, a man sits perched on the step of an elaborately adorned auto rickshaw. His jacket is worn and weathered, his cap pulled low over a face lined with stories untold. Sandals that have traversed countless miles rest on the sun-warmed metal below, every crease bearing witness to journeys both ordinary and profound. Cradling a cardboard box marked 'Sayyed,' he bows his head as if in reverence or perhaps surrender. The sunlight spills generously over this quiet tableau, casting gentle shadows that dance upon vivid patterns painted meticulously on the vehicle—a brief pause in a ceaseless rhythm of movement and change.
As dusk unfurls its gentle drapery, the rural landscape reveals a mosaic of thatched huts, their humble forms punctuating the fading daylight. Piles of wood lie strewn about, awaiting the next day’s chore. Slender trees stand like sentinels against a sky tenderly blending hues of soft blue and blushing pink. Beyond this immediate tapestry, low-slung hills embrace additional clusters of huts, their quiet presence bearing witness to the evening's graceful descent.
Three enormous hammered metal pots, their surfaces dimpled with history and wear, are balanced in pairs upon sturdy iron stands. A single wooden ladle, weathered by countless servings, rests with quiet dignity atop the uppermost pot. The textured vessels exude an air of timelessness and purpose, nestled within the chaotic embrace of an outdoor market. Blurred traces of movement and color swirl indistinctly in the background, suggesting a world in perpetual motion while the pots remain steadfast in their station.
The tower, imposing and solitary, rises at the periphery of a desolate courtyard. Encircled by steadfast trees and flanked by stoic city edifices in the distance, it claims its place against the clear cerulean sky. In the foreground, a figure ambles across this expanse of stone, their shadow elongating in quiet companionship. The scene is both spacious and intimate—a testament to solitude amidst urban presence.
The image reveals a tapestry of extraordinary craftsmanship, an ornate ceiling and walls adorned with intricate patterns that whisper stories of forgotten hands. Geometric designs weave through the space, each angle and curve meticulously thought out, a testament to the artisans' patience and skill. The material, dark yet reflective, gives off an enigmatic sheen that draws the eye deeper into its complexity. Daylight dances in from the side, casting soft illumination across the surface; every glint seems to celebrate each carved detail. The interplay of light and shadow enhances the texture, accentuating the elaborate artistry etched into this silent but evocative structure.
She sat quietly, clad in her crimson attire, the fabric of her shawl whispering against the gentle breeze. Her dark sunglasses shielded her eyes from the glaring brilliance of the sunlit day. The boy next to her wore a gray sweater that had seen many seasons and jeans now slightly frayed at the cuffs. He seemed lost in contemplation, his gaze fixed downward toward some unseen detail on the dusty ground. The building behind them bore signs of age - its walls peeling and weathered by countless years under an unrelenting sun. She moved with practiced grace, adjusting her shawl as if to fend off a sudden chill, while he remained transfixed in his own thoughts, two worlds interwoven yet distinctly apart amidst the quiet scene around them.
A busy street scene features a variety of people walking and engaging in activities. In the foreground, an elderly man sits on the ground with his head down, while other individuals walk by. The background shows a tuk-tuk vehicle and buildings, contributing to the bustling atmosphere.
The man, sporting a well-trimmed beard that framed his contemplative face, stood in the penumbra of an ambiguous room. His blue collared shirt peeked out from beneath a dark, worn jacket—both bearing the weight of countless days and stories untold. A solitary overhead light set upon him like an invasive interrogator, its harsh luminescence accentuating the tired lines around his eyes while casting deep, soulful shadows behind him. In juxtaposition to his brooding stillness, a bottle with a green cap loomed in the foreground—an ordinary object rendered significant by its proximity to this quiet tableau of solitude.
The night unfurled its shroud as a solitary figure sat inside a modest shop cloaked in shadows. Above, the canopy sign glowed with weary determination, casting a faint luminescence that barely punctured the enveloping dimness. A line of motorcycles rested quietly out front, their owners invisible yet unforgotten. An emerald aura suffused the scene, transforming everything within sight into an eerie tableau—the passerby's glance lingering momentarily on this vignette of solitary existence before pressing on into the velvety expanse of night's embrace.
In the corner of the room, where light bent and shadows lingered, intricate tile work adorned the walls. Each piece told a story, woven together by craftsmen from another time. The tiles bloomed with floral designs in rich hues of yellow, green, and blue—a mosaic garden captured in ceramic. On the stone floor below, two pairs of shoes rested—one black, one grey—placed side by side as if in silent conversation with each other and the artistry surrounding them.
In the corner of the room, a soft glow enveloped a modest seating area. Two wooden chairs stood facing each other, their cushions adorned with intricate patterns that spoke of distant lands and whispered tales of heritage. Nearby, on an unassuming side table crafted from polished walnut, a small potted plant stretched its delicate leaves towards the light, a quiet testament to life's unyielding persistence. The backdrop was defined by a dark window shrouded in sheer curtains that swayed ever so slightly with the evening breeze. It cast shadows that danced gently across the floor, weaving together an atmosphere brimming with both intimacy and solace—a sanctuary where time seemed to pause.
Under the vast expanse of a night sky, where the moon glowed with an ethereal luminescence, stood a man cloaked in the simplicity of a light-colored sweater and adorned with a traditional cap. His figure, though solitary, seemed enmeshed in the intricate tapestry of his surroundings. By his side was an unyielding metal structure—perhaps an old cart worn by time and tales untold. In his hands, he grasped a large, flat object—a silent witness to his presence—a piece of furniture or perhaps merely a panel. The scene exuded stillness yet echoed with stories waiting to unfold against the backdrop of that clear and timeless night.
Sillhoutte of a girl and a boy walking into the sunset.
At the close of day, a couple sat on a weathered park bench beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient tree. The golden light poured through the leaves, casting intricate patterns on their faces and across the ground. Around them, the expanse of green seemed endless, punctuated here and there by other benches and solitary trees that stood like silent sentinels. The air was imbued with tranquility; it was as if time had slowed to savor this serene moment, a quiet refuge from the relentless hum of their everyday lives.
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