All posts filed under: A Photo-Ethnographic Study

11 Greatest Indian Circus Photographs of the 20th Century

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I have been a Photographer in this lifetime. And I feel I have been a photographer first than being anything else later. And one thing that a photographer does for a lot many hours is only seeing. And if seeing gets him closer to nature, he then starts studying seeing, observing, reading and doing everything else when not taking photographs. Photography carries a rich history and we can imagine that now when we have got all the equipments and technology by our side where we can just delete an image right after taking it. This could not be even imagined 30 years ago. And through that period came courageous, motivated people who took up camera to pen their observations. If this post is being read by anyone who is born after 2000, you may feel at home and open yourself up to take some time out to study some of the most brilliant minds who took up image making, who made images when no one was watching. Their documentation changed the ways of seeing. Their …

10 Secrets about Maha Kumbh Mela of 2025 that Each of us Should know

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Tonight is Paush Purnima night as I right this. And it marks the start of the largest and the Oldest Congregation of Humankind ever meeting at the Sangam of India’s three ancient Rivers Ganga, Jamuna and the legendary Saraswati. The Maha Kumbh Mela of 2025 is set to take place in Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh, from January 13 to February 26, 2025. Kumbh literally means a kalash “Pot” or “pitcher” in Sanskrit. and has significance going back to the times unknown. It is the most remarkable gathering of ascetics from all sects, traditions and cults in India. The Kumbh Mela is believed to commemorate the legendary event of the churning of the ocean (Samudra Manthan) when the nectar of immortality (Amrit) was discovered. It is said that a drop each of this divine nectar fell into the rivers from the ‘pitcher’ the kumbh at four locations where the Mela is held, giving these places immense spiritual significance. Bathing ritual is the most significant ritual performed at Kumbh. Although taking a dip in the sacred waters on …

Back to Blogging While Breathing the Deadliest Air in the World’s Most Polluted Capital Delhi

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My Road To Nara Family, Namaste again. I hope you have all been healthy and enjoying these last few weeks of 2024. In late March, when i announced my break for I think five months, which initially i thought would be a lot more and I will start writing here a lot earlier, but life threw a beautiful mix of intensity and learning all these past months that strangely i enjoyed my new found freedom to an extent it became harder for me to come back here. But it was not the ‘not writing here’ part which concerned me most, it was not missing it. Family life, School- its responsibilities and then my own personal and professional commitments to myself. Some posts that were published earlier in last two months were pre-scheduled, so much so that I had written them in May itself. I forgot about them and couldn’t write or comment back as i didn’t see them for over a month. I will try to get back to the posts and answer each one. …

Narayan Kaudinya Anuradha Rudrapriya Upadhyay Gadhimai Mela Festval, Nepal

10 Years to an Insane Assignment Of Life ‘River Of Heads’ 

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It’s been 10 years of those 10 electrifying current-passing days for what brought seeing to my spirit. Even today I only think of ‘why’, was I there or was it that I was demanded by the Mother to witness it. Someone who has been away from most kind of cruelties, being born in a lineage who never tasted fish, leave meat. May be it happened to shake wake me up for all what life revolves around, some harsher realities, some withering truths. To may be learn the ways and come out of the skin of merely being a meek observer that after a decade of witnessing it eventually brought me immense strength. And learn to observe to absorb. And I absorbed;  the smell of the blood, the count of the severed big buffalo heads or peacocks, even pigs, goats, ducks and bodies of geese. And of course it were not the fallen bodies that pricked me but those dead big open eyes that were always looking at someone or the Sky but not you. And …

Children Of War and A Look Into the Parallel Universe

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Once in many years comes a project that brings your life’s reality to a halt. Probably bringing a comma or a complete stop for sometime. Even though it isn’t a big deal to be trained in the visual medium today as everyone’s eyes roll over social media like clouds moving above us, most of the times everything passes as our heads are always elsewhere but that one moment when the thunder strikes, we come back to life. Our World is at war. Still not at its peak as the real WAR is still around a few years away, but as we read this article in 2024, the world is already on a boil and soon rather anytime it is expected to burn. Only if things, governments, war companies do not mend their ways but even for that the time has already gone. Ever since the US moved out of Afghanistan; West Asia and the Middle East has become ever so vulnerable. The ever going war in Africa, Syria, Yemen, ever since in Afghanistan, Russia-Ukraine. And …

A Special Valentine’s Day Story of One Beloved Diamond more Precious than the Kohinoor of India

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There is a story that is commonly told in Britain that the colonisation of India – as horrible as it may have been – was not of any major economic benefit to Britain itself. If anything, the administration of India was a cost to Britain. So the fact that the empire was sustained for so long – the story goes – was a gesture of Britain’s benevolence. New research by the renowned economist Utsa Patnaik –just published by Columbia University Press – deals a crushing blow to this narrative. Drawing on nearly two centuries of detailed data on tax and trade, Patnaik calculated that Britain drained a total of nearly $45 trillion from India during the period 1765 to 1938. It’s a staggering sum. For perspective, $45 trillion is approximately 17 times more than the total annual gross domestic product of the United Kingdom today. Yet Interestingly, When the Britishers were plundering India, they took away not only the Money, the artefacts, archaeological marvels, and not only the Costliest Diamond of the world “The Koh-i-Noor” but also the Timur Ruby. …

A Dairy of a Photographer and his Incredible Rural India Stories

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Being a Photographer myself, I have always been fascinated by the old world charm that Rural life provided to my spirit. And Its not just about India but whole of South and South-East Asia had an unexplainable charm to it, still has. There is so much in common. Culture going centuries back. And today in 2023, when the world has started sprinting at a breakneck speed; when people, younger generations have almost, already left things behind; I feel an urge and need to conserve things, documents, stories, creations and life of the past. As much as I can in my limited means. And what better there is to learn and study from someone who himself has been a conservationist in the real sense. Jyoti Bhatt’s work is a proof in itself, that had there been no him, we wouldn’t have ever known what Rural India of the past looked like. Here sharing excerpts from his travels, some never seen images and stories that only his closed ones must have known. The diary of Jyoti Bhatt …

A Memory of the Most Beautiful Woman : A Photographic Recollection of Three Days Living in a Rural Rajasthani Home

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Dhapodi ji became a shepherd once she learnt that she would not be able to give Ambaram any children. Limping, I saw her whole life in that moment as she slowly walked away from us, with his cattle family. She took the responsibility of walking seventy goats and four cows to greener pastures. She used to take them all together for grazing, in rain, in dusty, deadly heat of Rajasthan daily, finding newer fields and branches to eat from all day to come back as the sun sat and help his husband’s second wife in cooking. Yes, second wife! Ambaram married again, in search for a boy to continue his lineage. Instead the new couple got five beautiful talkative girls, each a year apart. They went to every temple and sage to pray and ask for their blessing- leaving the older wife- Dhapodi and children back home. It became an irony that on the day Ambaram and Dhapodi got married- twenty years later, a boy arrived from the younger wife. As i Sit on the …

One Deep Journey to the Indian South : A Visual Study of Thiruvegappura Ambala Observing the Culture and Music of God’s Own Country

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There is one advice I must give. Travel; at least once in your lifetime get yourself a one way ticket to any place that has ever called you. Solo is better, just like Fear of the unknown is good. I would say, rather pounce on it and do it all the way. And even do it, as you doubt your self; setting aside gloom, prepare yourself to become aware of every breath that is going to come to you. Travel. Ever since February and March graced me to undertake an odyssey to the Indian South, it opened grand doors to a time and space that weren’t only old but preserved for centuries the fragrance of its tradition, from corruption that we have become accustomed to. Ceremonies, rituals, chants and most importantly the discipline of the two magic hours; to become conscious of the rise and the setting of the sun, and it being celebrated like a reserved festival for the soul with utmost attention, precision while guiding oneself to flow in following the cycle of …

When I Wrote My First Poem After Seeing the Sea in Odisha: A Visual Diary from Shri Jagannath Puri- The East Indian Coast

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I am a north Indian Man. And seeing the sea myself was once like coming out of the shadow towards the the sunny side. Like etching a line on wood. Films were arriving as a means of profession and friends. My earliest memory of train, freedom and words. With myself even, when few of us friends decided to attend a Film Festival in Odisha. Far away on the eastern Coast of India, in the temple town of Puri; that i had only heard in sanskrit verses then. But what those verses didn’t mention was the laid back beach and evening onwards to late night film screenings with winds coming from the Bay of Bengal and the unending background music that arrived from one wave and after. It was a journey of a lifetime as the train took close to 3 days to reach Puri. Trains used to look and sound different. They looked shabby, sounded noisy and felt god forsaken as we can only feel now. My friend on the journey reading through the endless …

30 Moments that I was Grateful for in 2022: Last Visual Notes of the Year

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January of 2023 is going to get over today. And for once I wanted to take out time to examine my last year’s archives before new year starts finding ways to create new journeys, i desired to assemble together those times; Journeys, though only handful they were, to keep them safe, here and create a reason to keep coming back, whenever needed to smile, over and over. Hence for one last time before we leave it all to memory and ongoing Life: One memory which will roam for long is going to be the death of my grandmother, and the times spent in the village along the river Ganges Mother posing on the roof of an Ashram, on the banks of Ganga in Haridwar was a memorable time. THE JOURNEY TO KASAR TEMPLE – ALMORA The first assignment came to document the sacred Kasar Devi Temple in Almora and finding a new home there like my own family, where we took a detour to visit a remarkable museum dedicated to Govind Ballabh Pant in Almora …

Lost In Yellow: Visual Notes of Evenings Spent Wandering Along River Yamuna and Old Delhi

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Much like Lost in Translation I had been wandering, walking for a Research Project in Delhi; One of the great historic cities of the world and spans some 10 centuries of its past. Understanding, observing Delhi is both exciting and challenging. Delhi has had a rich urban past, and what is particularly interesting is the fact that at different points of time several different sites were chosen by various powers/dynasties to found new settlements or cities. Most of them are in ruins but what is important to learn about it is that all even today are accessible. One of them is yesteryears Shahjahanabad, today’s Old Delhi. Shahjahanabad has been subsumed under the gigantic sprawl of metropolitan Delhi. Yet it has an identity that is distinct from any other. Popularly known as Chandni Chowk or Old Delhi, its name conjures up romantic narrow streets named after almost every thing on earth; maze like with a variety of street food and exotic markets. But my exploration is not completely about Delhi, its heritage or food but it …

About Kashmir, A Tale of Keepers and Rowing a Shikara to a Friend’s Wedding in Lake Dal Srinagar

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Learning how to row was the most profound, useful as much as useless, but one hypnotic skill that arrived at one point in my life. I was living with the Huns, a houseboat community in Dal Lake. The boat in general is called Shikara in Kashmiri. And Rowers were called Keepers, an English word. And perhaps it was this word that lured me to become one; a keeper. The one who keeps. Kashmir; the most beautiful valley on Earth. Not because it is pretty but perhaps the most complex. Also, the most militarised one, around that time. The aura of violence and terror was ever present in everyday Kashmiri life. When the valley was going through its longest curfew of their existence, I was there, walking, documenting the flatlands of Srinagar and hiking up the Harvan Mountains, even finding my way to the Mahadev Rock in the Pir Panjals while also finding myself bathing in the waters of the river Lidder, formerly Lambodarini and the mighty Indus. I was learning to live with the birds …

A Visual Diary Of a Day In My Village

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I do not live in my village. Neither I get to spend time there any more. But there are days when the news comes like the fresh winds after Rains. That grandfather is calling. He turned 101 this month. And well who knows he could be even more or less as there was no way to document it in those days. On paper he was born in 1921. Rains. Photography has become like that elusive rain for me. I have stopped photographing like I used to. I do not use any of my three cameras and 8 old-world manual Nikon lenses anymore, that I had carefully and proudly bought. It was through my 20mm and 35mm lenses that I taught myself to photograph day in and day out. To an extent I always felt a sense of belongingness that they knew what I want to see every single moment and day of my outing with them. But times strangely changed or did I? More after I started using ‘Road to Nara’- my blog as a …

A Celebration for the Sun: A Brief History of Chhath in Paintings and Images

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I had not decided to celebrate today. But nature pulled me in. For last few months I had been parallel-y working on a project in New Delhi. Rather it is my expression on Climate Change living in a region which in itself is an extension of extremism in most ways. For one it is making our lives vulnerable to diseases here, viruses, climate catastrophes in terms of pollution and per square population density, in the National Capital Region. Working on a project such as this has taken my breath, my life in a way that I sometimes remunerate myself a quote that Andrei Tarkovsky used to say on ‘Cinema requiring sacrificing of yourself. That You should belong to it, it shouldn’t belong to you. Cinema uses your life, not vice versa. In all ways, i have proved him right, without making much progress. On a whim last night I and team decided to visit the Yamuna river early morning as mist has started to settle over the flowing water. We walked till noon to film the …

The Last Journey to Ganga and Scenes from my Ancestral Village : A Photographic Essay

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Visiting Grand Parents used to be the only time when the Joy of having many umbrellas multiplied the possibilities of games, laughter and Humour. But one day without any knock, or warning grandmother died an exceptionally unusual death. All those years the perception that I carried of association, I could never feel it again towards my birth home, my birth courtyard, after grandmother was gone. No sense of belonging. My village had started to look congested. May be that was why parents must have left it. In 1982. On the mud terrace of our ancestral home, fragrance of cow-dung cakes still brings to my mind the nostalgia of my grandmother cleaning the courtyard every morning. Even before the sun would rise; while telling me with love to keep sleeping. Upla* are still used for cooking and cleaning. And just last week were also used for lighting the pyre of my uncle. Father’s eldest brother. Death of a family pillar changes a lot of dimension. For one It brings overwhelming, repulsive, abominable silence in homes. I …

Life Of Verrier Elwin: Past and the Present Of the Tribal Cultures In Central India: A Photo-ethnographic Essay

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Elwin’s research work in India took place at a critical period leading up to the Indian Independence from British rule. Verrier Elwin first met Mahatma Gandhi in 1928 at his ashram in Ahmedabad, where he had gone to represent the Christa Seva Sangh at the International Fellowship of Religions. Gandhi’s philosophy of satyagrah  as non-violent resistance against the colonial rule had a strong impact on Elwin and he were drawn into the national movement for Independence. However, as he became more deeply involved in the welfare of the community that he lived with, in central India, he began to question the relevance of Gandhi’s severe views on prohibition, celibacy and vegetarianism for that environment. In his autobiography he wrote. “long letter from Mahatma Gandhi urging me to perform daily yagna or sacrifice, of spinning; as no one here for hundreds of miles has ever seen a spinning wheel, decide not to, but suggest rice pudding as a daily sacrifice instead. Elwin’s personal reassertion of loyalty and identity was unequivocal. At a time when most of …

Home and the World : Walking around New Delhi and Old in January ’22

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Even though every day, slowly months and years seem to pass as fast as they arrive; January is special because first so much celebration already happens even before it arrives that half of it leaves while many still living hungover or in the previous year. Yet for me it was bringing some change that i could experientially notice, and drastic at that. Father had a near death experience so much that one night sleeping outside Hospital, in the boot of a car made me succumb to the emotions of not having a father anymore. Those five hospital days were special in a strange and new kind of way. Father eventually came back strongly, and is on his way to retain good health. But still something changed in me. Probably the essence of time. How so much is often so little. Hence January had to be celebrated, in the only few way i can. Working, walking, writing better. Ever since the seed of working on Delhi’s past and present has yielded, i had been moving around …

Jyoti Bhatt : A Tribute to a Living Legend : A Photographic Essay on Rural Gujarati Indian Life(1971-1987)

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Today, he is 87 and I will only wish that somehow a film compiling his works, his life, no matter however directed, should come out before we lose all of it. His experiences of that time and era must be recorded.

Days in the Hidden Valley of Mandal and a Small trek to Ma Anusuyadevi Temple : A Photographic Essay- III

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While studying culture and ancient practises in the Higher Himalayas.Continuing from Pandava Forest and the Brahma Kamal : The Nights of Change in the Himalayas and Finding Brahma Kamal : On a Rainy night from Delhi to Chamoli : ँ : Sumanto was waiting by the roadside, in front of the fisheries department. It was late in the night, very late by the mountain ways of life. Yet the most relieving part was that i wasn’t alone. With me was the last government bus, which i had to run after, in Rudraprayag to catch it. Had it not been that moment, i wouldn’t be making it even in my 30th hour of leaving New Delhi. It was cold. It was heavy. The restrain of the night, one which arrives after many days of rain. The climatic depression could still be felt. I could hear the droplets dropping off the leaves as I could hear myself heaving. The bus stopped. I bid byes to the driver, the conductor as i had been the only one riding …

Welcome To Heaven: Stories From the Line Of Control that May Enlighten The World– VII/Final

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On the Great Himalayan Road Journey to Baltistan, today is the showdown, the final journey continuing from Call of the Now- I Life and nothing more- II Road will tell you- III Remember me with a Lotus- IV The Gun Mountains and other Gods- V The Wait of Baltistan- VI : ँ : — It was more difficult to reach here than i had thought. To an extent I was only one night away from leaving it all and going back home. A whole day had gone in repairing Tyre and servicing this vehicle in Diskit, the same valley that hosted gypsies once, ancient travellers, porters coming from Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan carrying opium and other magic potions to the cold desert of Hunder; a stop that they still talk about as the Silk road. This was the ancient Silk route, and from here you either go up to Mongolia or find your way to the Tibetan plateau into China. I took to Baltistan. “And had Turtuk not pulled me in this one time, I may …

The Gun Mountains and Other Gods -V/VII

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On the Road to Baltistan, continuing from Call of the Now- I Life and nothing more- II Road will tell you- III Remember me with a Lotus- IV : ँ : Before we reach Turtuk, Baltistan; it was important to dedicate an essay only to the journey. My travels that saw me traversing through these dangerous, rough and meditative landscapes that over the years helped changing me, even my cells. For many years this road has been my road to inner work and of the outside world, and i imagine one which taught me best how to discern. This National Highway that runs from Srinagar, Kashmir to Leh is called the NH Delta- 1 and is the most important road that joins the valley of Kashmir to Laddakh. La that is ‘a mountain pass’, and ddakh is the ‘King’- this land that is the king of the mountain passes, running along the mighty river Indus, parallel to the most active, volatile border in the world, the Line of Control with Pakistan. Ever since the partition …

Remember me with a Lotus: Memoirs of heaven and birds in Kashmir- IV/VII

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Narayan, do you know why I am here today? I kept my silence. I couldn’t see my father when he died. I wasn’t there. He had stopped me from leaving home but I left regardless and all my life i have been living with this guilt that i couldn’t even gave my hands for his body. I wasn’t there with him when he wanted me most and it had needled me every moment. You know, when he was young, he too came on this yatra, with someone like you, his friend. I remembered his stories of bathing in the coldest waters of Sheshnag.

How i found my Will? And sooner my health. The Kushti world of Ancient Indian Wrestling: A Photographic Essay -II

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It was a week later, since that night of inner churning, when I met Sangram Singh again, and for the first time at his one room flat in Delhi. And most interestingly, he was already drinking, since sunrise. His whole house smelled of tobacco. Lights not brighter than the ones we sat under, in his auto. The green wall behind him wore a Hanuman calendar of the previous year. His eyes swollen, pointed, looking towards me, followed my gaze from the wall to the glass that was kept at the low table beside his bed, rum still left in it. “It’s not good for a wrestler, you know”. He picked up the glass and emptied it in one gulp. When I was young even the smell of this bothered me, but now it’s my nectar. It is this, which makes me feel alive. But Narayan, you look different today, Sangram suddenly getting aware of my presence. You seem all ready? He said looking at my camera. You wanted to see the wrestling place, right? I …

My Soul Journal and Expecting Times to Dip in the Rivers of the World

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From time to time, a dip in the river changes your perception about that river you just became with. She starts knowing you and you her. To start with, first of all she calms you down. Slowly changing your inner nature. And gradually of the outside. It may even happen that hundreds of dips later over the years you may start earning some qualities of that river. Your temperature of the body gets strengthened and so does your smile. And if you are open as you naturally should be, like a child; your ever expanding nature will carry you then to the places that can only be created behind your closed eyes. Sailing along patterns of current, looking at forms, colours, patterns, walls, speculating other dimensions in the dark, to the sounds of birds and leaves, of burning dead trees and water ripples, hearing bodies visually and later, very slowly language. Sometimes a small reaction changes the whole tail of events. Sometimes the start itself is the end. But the dip is important. Because that …