Circus of Life, Photographic Stories
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A letter from Bengal

State Highway number 9
Silda Football ground, West Bengal

Sharing this letter i wrote to a dear friend while i was away.

-.

Rain was never far behind. This happened to be the highlight of my journey. I knew it ended right there with this photograph. I realized home is calling.

Travels have not been too comfortable but its liberating to learn that i could come to west bengal at this time as the rains don’t have much time to move ahead or to stop, Fields are just too green everywhere, and roads connecting villages are too red, pond’s are just too filled, and women and young girls in them, makes me feel at times, its worthless to get educated and get conscious of your own being. The only thing one has to learn is the language of the world that has no word in it. And yes the cows, ducks, hen and chickens and the goats, they are in plenty lazing around, sleeping, staring, fearing, grazing, walking, running on road and off it. This part of the countryside has just filled me with pride of some unknown sense or probably i am feeling just too free on this stretched journey after Bihar. Everything has been like an ongoing painting for me.

For the first time looking out in a way made me think more about me being a story-teller. No painting or a photograph will fill the feeling of how i felt at that particular moment when i saw this beautiful long haired santhali woman bathing in the country side pond behind the palm trees. As I rode my bicycle i kept trying to look back at her, but then that one tree never allowed, it stood with its mammoth bark, the world moved as I rode, but I couldn’t see her face, I couldn’t see her breasts, I just wanted to stand and see nature. And then, little later at the end of the same pond i saw two young girls very far, walking in tandem taking filled earthen pots back home. Daily routine. A minute change, but i felt its so important for the whole universe to keep moving, and it only moves like this. Slowly, in such small equations. So important. For the water to be taken from one place to another. For those earthen pots to be used. World is moving. Everything is present and its not, everything is true yet its not. I should talk about it and not just write and i wont even write about all the characters i have met all this while, it will take too long and this reliance connection has not been too reliable off-late.

But you know M, every single body has been a gentle man, every one has made me smile. Bangla has not been in anyway a hindrance not that i know it all, i don know it at all apart from a few sentences but my guide for past 26 days has become one of my best ever co-traveller. I feel i owe him a lot and nothing too. What i owe him is just the love i can give him.

Have been in mao-ist area for past 2 weeks almost and even got into a little bit of tension thrice, the third happened yesterday but all ended well as they all considered my harmlessness after a point.

Well, now when you have told me about your job down there very far, i wonder when and how i can come and spend my time with you. And well, i didn’t laugh at your dream

Love from a little hut with many children running clothe-less, its raining.
Nx.

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