The random cloud formation gives a welcome respite from the searing summer sun blazing the dry earth of Maharashtra. Snap taken near Ralegan Siddhi.

This golden shower tree standing in full bloom in the hot summer streets of Pune, matches the bright hot Sun with it’s own colour.

A bloom of magenta Gomphrena. The flower is called Gul-E-Makhmal in Hindi/Urdu meaning “blossom of velvet”. A very good bet for flower gardening because it’s a sturdy plant and needs little care. I remember reading somewhere that this flower was a favourite with the Britishers of colonial India because they bloomed even in drought like conditions and due to undeveloped water works, water was a scarcity at that time.

A fisherwoman hauling her net at the beach in the morning at the Bakkhali beach in the Sunderbans.

Growing near the gate of a friend’s house in Kolkata, these bright blue blossoms of Clustervine gleefully mocked the blue of the morning summer sky.

The morning sun was just getting into it’s preparations for a long hot day, when the cool breeze kept tipping the flowering branches as if to nod an inviting beckon to those who saw them. Called Oleander in English, the flower lends its name to Gurudev Tagore’s famous love story the Raktokarobi (রক্তকরবী)

The Orange Cosmos Flower grew in the modest garden of the government tourist lodge at Bakkhali in the Sunderbans. They danced in the bright noon time sun and their rich colour was too much for my camera to resist. The tirelessly mischievous breeze that played with the shrub made focusing a difficult job. But when trying to focus, I chanced to see lovely ephemeral patterns of light and shadow which the nearby plants threw on the flower’s petals. You can see a hint of the shadows on the outer edge.

The name Champa could mean many flowers with looks similar to the one photographed here (the Plumeria). It is also known by name Frangipani. They are a perennial and rather hardy (needing little special attention) flowering plant that bears light to deeply fragrant flowers. While mostly white, the petals often show beautiful brush stroke like patches in them.

Bidding a bye to the city and the comforts of my room I drove like a mad man into the hot summer soaked hills of the Sahyadris. The hills greeted me with open arms and lined my path with the brightest of blooms.

Near Mulshi in the Western Ghats

Many years back a friend of mine had shared with me a cassette of revolutionary songs from Latin America. They were soft soulful songs written and sung by the great people of that land. There was one song that was called Mountain Flower and spoke of a revolutionary’s wistful longing for his homeland, which he had left to fight the war of emancipation.

Here’s another red flower from the hills to those who have fallen and showed us the path.