A cropped body

No face, no pose—just labor made visible in the curve of tired fingers and dust-marked trousers. The market breathes, the day moves on, and someone stands still for a fraction of a second, long enough to be seen.

Puri, 2023

Morning light, shallow water, and fishermen casting their nets in quiet rhythm. Each throw hangs for a moment in the air before meeting the tide. Away from the crowds, Puri breathes slowly—where life moves to the cadence of water, work, and waiting.

Abandoned House, Ghoom

The house at Ghoom stands quietly in the fog, its balconies frayed and walls darkened by time. Wires crisscross the sky like unfinished sentences, humming with old stories. Once a place of voices and light, it now listens only to the mist drifting through its broken edges—still standing, still remembering.

The Joyful Spirit of Rathayatra in Kolkata, 2023

Stepping onto the streets of Kolkata during Rathayatra is an experience that truly ignites the senses. I had the incredible opportunity to capture a moment of pure, unadulterated joy during the 2023 celebrations, and it's a memory that stays with me. 

These photographs, taken amidst the vibrant procession, perfectly encapsulate the infectious energy of the festival. The sheer exhilaration on the face of the devotee in the foreground, with arms raised high, is a testament to the devotion and happiness that permeate the air. It's moments like these, where people come together in collective celebration, that remind us of the power of faith and community.

Kolkata Glimpse — Rabindra Sadan

An evening pause at Rabindra Sadan. Under the shade of the tree, their gestures are small—almost invisible. A gentle lean, a hand reaching out, a quiet closeness that needs no words.

Mannequins

They stand in a quiet line, dressed for celebration, waiting on a tired street. Mannequins in sherwanis, they face the street like silent witnesses. 

Somewhere between cloth and concrete, tradition pauses here, rehearsing for a wedding that hasn’t arrived yet.

Puri 2023

Shot at Puri in the evening. Love probably doesn’t always stay for long :)

Sittong, Before Lunch

The homestay owner works without hurry—hands moving from bowl to bowl, arranging food as if time is generous here. Light falls across jars, plates, the checked tablecloth. Outside, the hills wait; inside, lunch is taking shape.

The Queue

A slow-moving line, bodies pressed close for balance more than space. 

At the Gangasagar transit camp, waiting becomes a shared posture—hands resting on shoulders, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the frame.

Faces

At Babughat transit camp, the morning begins in a slow, patient line. The woman stands in the queue, waiting for a free breakfast.

Way to home

The Saraswati idol begins her journey home—lifted onto a truck, or carefully placed in a car. Kumartuli at night is hushed and glowing, the air thick with clay, lamps, and devotion. Her face catches the light, serene and patient, as if already blessing the days ahead. Moving through dark streets, she carries more than an idol—she carries hope, waiting quietly for morning to arrive.

Kolkata, 2019

A lattu spins, and the street briefly belongs to the boys. 

One watches the thread with complete seriousness, fingers busy with the logic of play. The other jumps, already celebrating, joy spilling out faster than the top can wobble and fall. In narrow streets, childhood finds room to spin.

Galiff Street, Kolkata — On the Way Back

I wasn’t planning to photograph Galiff Street. 

On the way back, the street insisted. Cages passed from hand to hand. Birds shifted, waited, watched. Men gathered, negotiated, lingered. Nothing dramatic — just routine, repetition, memory at work. Light broke the street into glare and shadow. Colour felt unnecessary. Monochrome held the weight better. A rooster pressed against a man’s chest, alert and unmoving, looking straight back. These are passing moments — unplanned, unclaimed. 

A few quick snapshots taken while returning from a sketching session. Galiff Street, Kolkata.

Early winter morning at the Maidan, Kolkata

A quick snapshot before I found a place to sit and sketch. The fog was still thick, blurring the edges of trees and earth, muting the vastness of the Maidan into something intimate. Young plants stood guarded, old trunks rested where they fell, and the city felt far away. Moments like this feel like a gentle pause—before the lines begin, before the noise returns.

Ei Somoy

A quick pause between journeys. 

The train stopped at a signal, just long enough to notice this quiet corner of the platform—the bicycle leaning patiently, the man lost in his own world, the layers of time on the shuttered wall. I clicked without thinking too much. Moments like these don’t ask to be framed; they simply appear and vanish. On the way to Taki.

Women drying cloths at Babughat Transit Camp

Saris and shawls are lifted, spread, negotiated with the wind. Between ropes and hands, a brief domestic order appears inside the camp’s noise. The cloths dry slowly, as if time itself has been asked to wait.

Babughat 2026, The day moves in fragments

Hands hold hands so no one disappears. Bundles rise onto heads, bodies tilt, adjust, move. Inside the transit camp, everything is temporary but necessary—lines, tents, food, water, waiting.