There are many photos I wish I could take in India, that I can't. Partly because my camera is rubbish and partly because I seem to have less inclination to whip out my camera and take pictures of scenes around me than I thought I would have. So, here we are. A far from perfect gallery of photos taken from memory. Click.
Kites. A small boy with no legs flying one on the side of the road in front of a Vodafone shop, balancing on his stumps. Two children flying from different corrugated rooftops, seen from a rickshaw on the highway, on the outskirts of the largest slum in Asia. Tin roofs like water surrounding them on all sides.
The fish market. A slit through a curtain to a larger world set underneath board and tin and metal. Blood and scales dripping onto a dirt and concrete floor. Chickens piled on top of one another, eggs collecting underneath for sale. Fisherman’s wives in saris and bangles slicing through fish skin and bone on wooden stumps, wielding long knifes. Dark and loud and exciting. The morning’s catch from the Arabian sea set out to sell. A lone white kitten, just a few weeks old, crying pitifully among discarded fish heads. Fingers of sunlight dissolving on the walls.
Cricket. A group of fifty men crowded together on the street to watch the match on a small 10-inch screen set inside a shop window. Boys playing an improntu game in the garden, using a tennis ball. Old men watching behind them.
Temples. A woman ringing a bell and placing her hands at her chest, before walking forward on a white floor.
Land’s End. Couples cuddling together underneath trees and on patches of dry grass, the only place they can be together since most people never come to the suburbs. Smiling in front of the sea.
The Street. School children dodging BMWs and auto-rickshaws, holding tight to each others school bags, as they cross a busy road. Women carrying infants with no pants, tapping on car windows asking for change. Perhaps a toddler tailing behind her. A rooster. Four donkeys. Two goats. A Rolls Royce, its features identifiable even through a white vehicle cover, being guarded by a man in a suit in front of the Taj Hotel.
Kites. A small boy with no legs flying one on the side of the road in front of a Vodafone shop, balancing on his stumps. Two children flying from different corrugated rooftops, seen from a rickshaw on the highway, on the outskirts of the largest slum in Asia. Tin roofs like water surrounding them on all sides.
The fish market. A slit through a curtain to a larger world set underneath board and tin and metal. Blood and scales dripping onto a dirt and concrete floor. Chickens piled on top of one another, eggs collecting underneath for sale. Fisherman’s wives in saris and bangles slicing through fish skin and bone on wooden stumps, wielding long knifes. Dark and loud and exciting. The morning’s catch from the Arabian sea set out to sell. A lone white kitten, just a few weeks old, crying pitifully among discarded fish heads. Fingers of sunlight dissolving on the walls.
Cricket. A group of fifty men crowded together on the street to watch the match on a small 10-inch screen set inside a shop window. Boys playing an improntu game in the garden, using a tennis ball. Old men watching behind them.
Temples. A woman ringing a bell and placing her hands at her chest, before walking forward on a white floor.
Land’s End. Couples cuddling together underneath trees and on patches of dry grass, the only place they can be together since most people never come to the suburbs. Smiling in front of the sea.
The Street. School children dodging BMWs and auto-rickshaws, holding tight to each others school bags, as they cross a busy road. Women carrying infants with no pants, tapping on car windows asking for change. Perhaps a toddler tailing behind her. A rooster. Four donkeys. Two goats. A Rolls Royce, its features identifiable even through a white vehicle cover, being guarded by a man in a suit in front of the Taj Hotel.
