In the Hands of the Creator

Yeh duniya vithata ka hatho mai hai.
Ham sab bhi nirmata hai.
Meaning: The world is in the hands of the creator. We are all creators.

When I first started conceptualizing a photoshoot concept around love and my identity as an Indian woman, I immediately thought of my connection to nature. Nature is grounding; it is the creator and holder of all living beings, the first and ultimate artist.

Hinduism views no separation between the divine and nature. Hindus worship everything from the sun, the stars, the seas, all the way to the moon and beyond. Rivers are the manifested forms of goddesses, stretching miles and miles, providing life and homes to millions of living beings. Trees, with all of their strength and fortitude, are vessels of immense kindness, dedicating their whole lives to serving by providing shelter, food, and medicine. This religion of mine has shown the ultimate love for Mother Nature, and I owe the same in return.

I find it fascinating that nature is seen as a feminine being, especially a mother. Mothers and nature hold the power of reproduction as they both create and nurture life. But does this alone create an interconnectedness between the feminine and natural world? Or is there something much deeper in the act of creation itself that makes this bond so organic in our minds?

I may never have an answer to these questions, but they have stayed in the back of my mind as I worked to create these images. I view myself as a very feminine being, trying to exist and resist in a world that isn’t full of kind rivers and strong trees. Inspired by my ancestors, who once walked this Earth with far more grace than I, I began to weave together an embodiment of love for my being, my culture, and the ground beneath my feet.

As I looked at images of Indian women and goddesses in nature, I noticed that they subtly became one with their environment. Their bodies and hands mimicking the organic shapes of leaves, their long luscious hair flowing in the wind, their gaze calm and serene, their sarees draping perfectly along their curves with gold jewelry enhancing the brown tones of their skin, all while they stood posed on flowers beneath them. There seemed to be a deep understanding between the subject and setting in these images, and I wanted to embrace this.

Now that I had a clear image of what I wanted this photoshoot to look like, I began planning the harder details, such as clothing. In recent years, I have developed a deep affinity for sarees; I am not sure there is any other garment that makes me feel more feminine, more powerful. A saree is nothing more than a long, flowing piece of fabric – yet its beauty lies in the way it is draped, transforming cloth into elegance. I found myself drawn to a time before colonial influence when sarees were worn without blouses, bodies embraced by fabric alone. I wanted to honor that era, where the saree and the body existed in perfect harmony. I began experimenting with draping techniques, letting the fabric fall over my skin in countless ways, each one showing me a different version of myself. It felt almost spiritual. I haven’t always looked at my body with kind eyes, but this simple piece of fabric made me feel beautiful. I then went into my boxes of jewelry, an Indian girl’s prized possession, and picked out a set of my mother’s bangles to adorn my wrists and a gold tikka to sit on my forehead. The biggest dilemma I faced at this point was my short, curly hair. I love my natural curls, but they are not quite long enough to flow in the wind. So naturally, I learned how to install a wig.

Now that I had curated the look I wanted, I took my tripod, camera, and a dear friend to the Ann Arboretum, a place I have witnessed so many enjoying the lush greenery and calmness of the river. As we arrived, the sun glimmered on my skin and the air smelled of leaves and soil. I walked barefoot, feeling the texture of the earth beneath me, imagining roots connecting me to the soil, trees, and river—a place where everything thrived.

Setting up the tripod and walking away from the camera felt like a ritual and gesture of respect between me and the environment around me. With each frame captured, I became more than a woman wrapped in fabric and more and more part of the landscape. I posed as I had seen my ancestors and goddesses pose. Arms curved like leaves, eyes soft and serene, body rooted and free all at once, and my hair, even if it wasn’t my own, danced in the breeze. At that moment, I felt something click, an acknowledgment that the love I sought had never been outside of me. It had always been within, just waiting to be unearthed.

What began as a photoshoot transformed into something far deeper. It became a conversation between me and the world around me, an exchange of gratitude and understanding. It became a way of practicing kind eyes towards myself. It became an offering.

Because if the world is in the hands of the creator, and we are all creators, then I, too, have the power to shape beauty from within. Standing among the trees and the river, adorned in gold and cloth, was my own act of creation.