Wandering around the base camp and the forests of Nameri one evening in Assam, I started taking pictures of a man with his brood standing at the gate of his house. This is common practice in these villages. Around evening and an hour before sunset, pretty much everyone steps out of their house to stand on the main road. There’s no agenda -they just look around, holding one of the children in their arms. It seemed like such a relaxing thing to do – being a silent observer of life around as the day comes to a close. Things look magical in that evening light – the greens are greener, the blues are solid and heavy. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, out popped this elf on a big bicycle three times bigger than her.
She was never still, allowing me to barely focus before she would flit like a little butterfly on her small little fairy feet! Or, perch on one of the pedals and stare sharply for a second before turning away and disappearing into the house! After a good ten minutes of coaxing, I managed to get her to come out and ride around on her dad’s bike.Here too, she sailed around on this makeshift ship as though it was a pair of special oversized wings made only for her. I was losing light and she was moving around relentlessly. I stopped my frantic clicking for a few seconds to ask her what her name was. “Elizabeta Ghose”, pat came the reply. I stopped on my tracks. Elizaveta Ghosh (spelt with an H and not E) was my mother’s name. What are the chances that in a random village on the borders of Assam and Arunachal, that I would meet my mother’s namesake! Stumped but thrilled, I continued to take pictures of Elizabeth until the light dropped. One travels and one learns.
March 26, 2018