How are you all? I hope everyone is well. I am well too. Being well is not only a joy for us, but also for the people around us. Because when we are well, our bodies and minds become well. And then our lives become happy. There are moments in life that leave a lasting impression on our hearts - moments when the beauty of nature and our own emotions merge so deeply that we are changed forever.

To me, photography is an art. And if that photography can be done with the sweetness of the mind, then photography becomes quite attractive and beautiful. Of course, not everyone can take beautiful photography. However, if we can understand the camera lens and focus and take a little time to take photography, then we can also become a skilled photographer. And we can showcase our skills beautifully. So we should learn this beautiful art beautifully.

A few days ago, I embarked on a photography journey to Mawa Ghat with my family—my sisters and my husband. It wasn’t just a casual trip; it was a mission to capture moments. With my camera ready and heart open, I set out to document the soul of Padma River—its boats, people, ripples, and quiet magic. We arrived early in the morning. The sun hadn’t risen high, and a mist hung softly over the river. Boats floated silently in the haze, their shapes soft and mysterious. My first frame was of a lone boat emerging from the fog. That shot captured more than a river—it captured a mood, a mystery, a beginning.

Gradually, Mawa Ghat came alive. Boatmen prepared their crafts, people queued for passage, and the air buzzed with movement. I watched an elderly woman step cautiously onto a boat, her bag tightly clutched. Nearby, a child stood holding his father’s hand, eyes wide with curiosity. These frames spoke of routine, of survival, of stories untold.

Padma is a river of contrasts. On one side, slow-moving wooden boats with calm-faced oarsmen. On the other, roaring speedboats slicing the water like arrows. I captured a blur of a speedboat just as it dashed past us, leaving foamy trails behind. It felt like photographing the heartbeat of the river. The play between motion and calm made for thrilling visual stories. Away from the rush of the ghat, we wandered to a quieter part of the riverbank. There, boys jumped into the water with reckless laughter. Each splash echoed joy. I clicked as one boy rose from the water, sunlight catching the drops on his face. Nearby, an elderly man stood silently, pouring water over his head. His face bore a look of spiritual calm.

My lens loves unposed moments. Like the boatman fixing his deck in golden light, or the woman walking back with a pot full of river water. Each photograph held silence and strength, a piece of real life in its rawest form. As the day wore on, the sunlight turned warmer. I started capturing reflections—the sky dancing on the water, the silhouette of boats blending with the river. These frames were soft and poetic, with color and contrast merging in harmony. Not all images were scenic. Some were emotional. Like the photo of my two sisters staring quietly at the water, or the shot my husband took of me helping an elderly woman step into a boat. These weren’t planned photographs, yet they became some of the most meaningful ones.

As we prepared to leave, the river glowed in the light of the setting sun. One empty boat sat alone near the shore, resting, waiting. It felt like the perfect closure—not just for the day, but for the entire story. Padma is not just a river. It’s a living, breathing story that flows in boats, sparkles in laughter, and rests in golden reflections. Through our one-day trip to Mawa Ghat, I captured more than photos—I collected emotions, stories, and stillness. Every image we clicked holds a heartbeat, a whisper, a pulse of life by the river.