Shajanram is a frail little person in his late eighties. Yet he moves gracefully, with the agility of a nearby desert antelope. The thick round glasses lying on his aquiline nose magnify the darkness of his black, almond-shaped eyes. The white beard and long moustache match the uniform colour of his shirt, dhoti, and turban. His smile is spontaneous, frequent and highly infectious, as his kindness.
He bows in respect to welcome guests in the home that he shares with his four sons, their wives and a total of twelve healthy and cheerful grandchildren. Shajanram does not speak a word of English. His facial expressions genuinely convey his feelings, passing through no filter, no social barrier. For the rest, a guide translates his sacred speech.
Sand easily overtakes the careless traveller. Grain by grain, it squeezes slowly between tight lips, it threads its way through...
An ode to the ittarwallahs of Kannauj, Uttar Pradesh, alchemical men who have mastered the ethereal craft of extracting from mud, the scent of rain...
A closer look at the road trip that we undertook along the Ganges with four photographers to showcase the versatility of Hasselblad's X1D cameras...
This journey across the North and West explores the phenomenon of modern architecture that gripped India during the 20th century...
Amidst the lush greenery on the banks of a river, is a palace surrounded by Mughal gardens...
In her cosy New England kitchen, my grandmother is serving me a cup of green tea. She then sits in front of me, staring. Finally, she asks