I came to Kodaikanal chasing light the soft, diffused kind that only a misty hill station can offer. As a photographer who prefers fog over filters and finds more truth in silence than in stories, Kodai had always called to me from behind postcards and blog posts.

This trip wasn’t planned. Most of mine aren’t. I’d heard the fog was rolling in heavy this week perfect for flares, silhouettes and that dreamy washed-out light.

For two days, I wandered with my camera, catching moments most people probably passed by: a sleepy dog next to a flower cart, an old man tapping his tea glass, eucalyptus leaves dripping with dew. No agenda. Just instinct.

On the third morning, I went up to Coaker’s Walk hoping for sunrise shots. But the entire valley had disappeared into white. I wasn’t disappointed sometimes not getting what you came for leads to something better. So I kept walking, took a few side trails, and ended up near the quieter side of Kodai Lake where the trees hang low and everything slows down. The lake looked like a watercolor ripples blurring the sky and trees into something beautiful.

An Unplanned Table for One

By evening, the fog thickened and hunger finally caught up. Through my viewfinder, I spotted Sterling Lake resort nearby its warm lights cutting through the mist like a beacon. Tucked inside was a glass-walled restaurant I hadn’t heard of before: Slate & Pearl.

I walked in camera still on my shoulder, shoes muddy, not exactly dinner ready. But nobody blinked. A staff member smiled and asked, “Table for one?” That was it. No fuss.

What struck me first wasn’t the menu, but how the restaurant itself felt like a photograph waiting to happen. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the misty lake like a living gallery. The interior lighting was perfect warm enough to feel welcoming, soft enough to complement the ethereal landscape outside.

I thought I’d just try a mocktail and head out. But the menu had other plans. So many interesting fish options I couldn’t pick just one, so I didn’t. Ordered a couple. Then the biryani caught my eye and that was the end of my restraint.

When Food Becomes Art

Each dish arrived like a carefully composed frame. The fish, perfectly flaked and seasoned, reminded me of the delicate layers in a well-exposed landscape shot. The biryani came fragrant with stories each grain distinct yet part of a larger, harmonious composition.

What was supposed to be a five-minute stop turned into a proper dinner. For once, I kept my camera tucked away. Some places are better lived than shot. The conversation between flavors, the interplay of textures, the way the mist outside danced with the warm light inside — it was a multi-sensory photograph that no lens could capture.

But as I prepared to leave, the photographer in me couldn’t resist. I stepped outside, turned back toward the glowing restaurant, and clicked a few frames of the resort itself. The light, the glass, the mist everything had aligned perfectly.

The Frame I Didn’t Expect

Walking back through Kodai’s fog-wrapped streets, I realized something. I’d come here hunting for the perfect landscape shot, but found something richer a reminder that sometimes the most memorable frames aren’t the ones you plan for.

They’re the ones that happen when you put down the camera, pick up a fork, and let yourself be surprised.

And speaking of surprises I’m heading back to Slate & Pearl tomorrow night. This time, I’m bringing my telephoto lens. There’s a story brewing in that intersection of mist, glass, and golden light that I’m not quite done telling.

Want to know what I captured? Follow along for tomorrow’s shots..