Sunday, April 12, 2026
Sunset and rise : my first consecutive witnessing
Recently, I witnessed sunset in the evening and sunrise the very next morning. A
first for me: two consecutive dates with the sun. (‘date’ pun intended)
It was during travels in Sri Lanka, in the temple and beach town of Trincomalee, or Tiri-kone-malai (sacred-kone-hill) as multiple elder Tamilians referred to it. Trincomalee’s most famous tourist draws are firstly the dramatically located ‘Koneswaram temple’ at the top of a hill (thus the sacred-kone-hill) which tapers dramatically as a cliff into the ocean, and secondly the sands of Uppuveli beach. Aptly enough, I witnessed the sunset from the commanding heights of the Koneswaram hill, and sunrise from the soft sands of the Uppuveli beach.
Apart from the vibrant yellow-orange sun, we also observed and dallied with other natural wonders, vibrant in their own ways. During sunset, peacocks came out in large numbers – atop a tree, hopping on the road, astride a large gate; resplendent in their comically large, blue-green vibrancy. Monkeys hopping quickly from HQ (trunk) to different branch offices, like honest civil servants. Deer on a lazy graze. During sunrise, we had for company some stray dogs which called the beach home; friendly lot, drawing pets and strokes from us. Shortly after sunrise- kilometers into the ocean- dolphins jumping acrobatically near our speedboat (relieving our anxieties of a wild-goose-chase endeavor)
During set and rise, right above the horizon there was a narrow band of clouds. So, the sun did not sink into the horizon- it sank behind the clouds. With the sun behind them, the clouds resembled a striking carboard cut-out: grey body, with luminous orange borders. The cut-out was against a stirring background: the customary evocative set-rise colors bleeding into the sky, palette of yellow-orange-pink-grey-blue, shades transitioning smoothly into one another. Amid all the varieties of transitions life throws at us (eg: attacking transitions in football, career transitions), I’d call this one the mother of all transitions. Atleast on the parameter of ‘smoothness’. Viewing this transition always evokes in me a desire to coat a layer of water on thick paper, and unleash via paintbrush a depiction of the scene. I did it once with pencil colours, after observing sunset from an airplane window. The resulting creation I put up for a year or so on my wall in Mumbai. Quite neat to have a sunset-view window in your bedroom all the time, eh? Just like it popped up on my awareness during the flight that one random evening– set-rise viewings are quite easily accessible. For me, every evening from my west-facing balcony at home or from the high floor (15th) in my office. It’s my own state of mind which decides whether I stop to see it. Artist Scott Polach’s installation, ‘Applause Encouraged’, was organized at Cabrillo National Monument in San Diego. At a cliff (similar to Kona-Malai), eight participants are ushered on to chairs for 45 minutes in a cordoned-off area, asked to turn off their phones. They view the sunset scene unfolding in front of them. At last light, the participants are offered refreshments.
The sunset in Trinco had more colors than the sunrise. Pink was missing in the sunrise. Perhaps it was due to the clouds, which were more plentiful in the evening. I did not remember this aspect about clouds’ evening plentitude- it’s just that while I write, I look at the picture on the phone. Which reminds me- phones nowadays do these tricks wherein the picture on the phone looks prettier than the one in front of one’s eyes, a scenario that comes about especially in these grand nature pictures. Begs the question: what does ‘seeing’ something mean? When I go birdwatching, I do feel a purer sense of ‘seeing’ when I see through the binoculars than through the 10X optical zoom of the phone camera. Although the binoculars’ zoom is lower, binoculars are cumbersome, and harder to lock on target.
During both rise and set, the sun's shimmering reflection on the ocean waters also left an impression. After set, descending from the malai for dinner, I got another view of the sunset from an old disused quay, next to the famous Dutch Bank cafe.
Observing and appreciating nature is a skill, consisting of a multiple sub-skills playing out at the same time. Mindfulness: the ability to focus on the sight, which unfolds at a pace often slower relative to other 21st century processes. Allowing lack of control: the unfolding event, and its pace, cannot be influenced: can’t pause, or increase speed to 1.5x speed, or scroll to next. For those fed on a steady diet of sporting movement: holding still pose without endorphin/adrenalin rush of bodily movement. Finding your own personal definition of ‘seeing’ : the balance between taking pictures on the phone, and observing the ephemeral with plain old eyes; just the retina, not a retina display. As the legendary photographer played by Sean Penn memorably says upon spotting the elusive Snow Leopard in ‘Secret Life of Walter Mitty’: ‘When I like moment, I mean me personally, I don’t like the distraction of a camera’. Ignoring the variability and discomfort of the ‘elements’: weather is not ‘air-conditioned’. That set-rise, I observed that the sunrise was much warmer than the sunset, and a few minutes of the rise I was scrambling back into the A/C room. And finally, savoring the after-taste : reflecting upon it in one’s own personal way – viewing the picture, writing a blog post.
Like any skill, it improves with practice, and decays with disuse. Upon repetition, a repository gets build, and comparing with past observations adds to the experience.
Hope I deploy and build upon this skill, and you do too.
END
Set from the Malai
Set seen from quay near Dutch Bank Cafe
Rise and Shine on Uppuveli beach .
It was during travels in Sri Lanka, in the temple and beach town of Trincomalee, or Tiri-kone-malai (sacred-kone-hill) as multiple elder Tamilians referred to it. Trincomalee’s most famous tourist draws are firstly the dramatically located ‘Koneswaram temple’ at the top of a hill (thus the sacred-kone-hill) which tapers dramatically as a cliff into the ocean, and secondly the sands of Uppuveli beach. Aptly enough, I witnessed the sunset from the commanding heights of the Koneswaram hill, and sunrise from the soft sands of the Uppuveli beach.
Apart from the vibrant yellow-orange sun, we also observed and dallied with other natural wonders, vibrant in their own ways. During sunset, peacocks came out in large numbers – atop a tree, hopping on the road, astride a large gate; resplendent in their comically large, blue-green vibrancy. Monkeys hopping quickly from HQ (trunk) to different branch offices, like honest civil servants. Deer on a lazy graze. During sunrise, we had for company some stray dogs which called the beach home; friendly lot, drawing pets and strokes from us. Shortly after sunrise- kilometers into the ocean- dolphins jumping acrobatically near our speedboat (relieving our anxieties of a wild-goose-chase endeavor)
During set and rise, right above the horizon there was a narrow band of clouds. So, the sun did not sink into the horizon- it sank behind the clouds. With the sun behind them, the clouds resembled a striking carboard cut-out: grey body, with luminous orange borders. The cut-out was against a stirring background: the customary evocative set-rise colors bleeding into the sky, palette of yellow-orange-pink-grey-blue, shades transitioning smoothly into one another. Amid all the varieties of transitions life throws at us (eg: attacking transitions in football, career transitions), I’d call this one the mother of all transitions. Atleast on the parameter of ‘smoothness’. Viewing this transition always evokes in me a desire to coat a layer of water on thick paper, and unleash via paintbrush a depiction of the scene. I did it once with pencil colours, after observing sunset from an airplane window. The resulting creation I put up for a year or so on my wall in Mumbai. Quite neat to have a sunset-view window in your bedroom all the time, eh? Just like it popped up on my awareness during the flight that one random evening– set-rise viewings are quite easily accessible. For me, every evening from my west-facing balcony at home or from the high floor (15th) in my office. It’s my own state of mind which decides whether I stop to see it. Artist Scott Polach’s installation, ‘Applause Encouraged’, was organized at Cabrillo National Monument in San Diego. At a cliff (similar to Kona-Malai), eight participants are ushered on to chairs for 45 minutes in a cordoned-off area, asked to turn off their phones. They view the sunset scene unfolding in front of them. At last light, the participants are offered refreshments.
The sunset in Trinco had more colors than the sunrise. Pink was missing in the sunrise. Perhaps it was due to the clouds, which were more plentiful in the evening. I did not remember this aspect about clouds’ evening plentitude- it’s just that while I write, I look at the picture on the phone. Which reminds me- phones nowadays do these tricks wherein the picture on the phone looks prettier than the one in front of one’s eyes, a scenario that comes about especially in these grand nature pictures. Begs the question: what does ‘seeing’ something mean? When I go birdwatching, I do feel a purer sense of ‘seeing’ when I see through the binoculars than through the 10X optical zoom of the phone camera. Although the binoculars’ zoom is lower, binoculars are cumbersome, and harder to lock on target.
During both rise and set, the sun's shimmering reflection on the ocean waters also left an impression. After set, descending from the malai for dinner, I got another view of the sunset from an old disused quay, next to the famous Dutch Bank cafe.
Observing and appreciating nature is a skill, consisting of a multiple sub-skills playing out at the same time. Mindfulness: the ability to focus on the sight, which unfolds at a pace often slower relative to other 21st century processes. Allowing lack of control: the unfolding event, and its pace, cannot be influenced: can’t pause, or increase speed to 1.5x speed, or scroll to next. For those fed on a steady diet of sporting movement: holding still pose without endorphin/adrenalin rush of bodily movement. Finding your own personal definition of ‘seeing’ : the balance between taking pictures on the phone, and observing the ephemeral with plain old eyes; just the retina, not a retina display. As the legendary photographer played by Sean Penn memorably says upon spotting the elusive Snow Leopard in ‘Secret Life of Walter Mitty’: ‘When I like moment, I mean me personally, I don’t like the distraction of a camera’. Ignoring the variability and discomfort of the ‘elements’: weather is not ‘air-conditioned’. That set-rise, I observed that the sunrise was much warmer than the sunset, and a few minutes of the rise I was scrambling back into the A/C room. And finally, savoring the after-taste : reflecting upon it in one’s own personal way – viewing the picture, writing a blog post.
Like any skill, it improves with practice, and decays with disuse. Upon repetition, a repository gets build, and comparing with past observations adds to the experience.
Hope I deploy and build upon this skill, and you do too.
END
Set from the Malai
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