Our own Shangrila...
- Independent Ink
- Aug 14
- 4 min read
Just a cool evening, a small pond and two friends gazing at it, arm in arm.
By Avinash Kumar
Ferozshah Kotla, Delhi:
It was an early winter afternoon, and pollution had still not set in to make people stop venturing out. The mosque inside the fort looked desolate till I suddenly found these two women clicking each other.
The curated ruins of the architecture often evoke memories which we haven’t been part of, and, yet, it’s not that history comes to us rushing out; rather, it's subdued nostalgia for a past that is continuously passing before our everyday lives.
Siem Reap, Cambodia:
People go to this historic city to feel enthralled by the majestic architecture of Hindu and Buddhist pasts, of a civilisation which has undergone so many dramatic phases, even in its recent history. And, yet, wandering around this small town’s by-lanes, I found equally evocative moments: for example, a cat, an intent face, and a large plant mediating the conversation.
Komic, Spiti:
A bunch of researchers were travelling to Spiti Valley tracing Buddhism and its history in these parts. I simply tagged along.
We landed in this place en route to Langza, which boasts of the highest motorable road in the world. The barren land, the snow peaks in the backdrop, and a few tired travellers; all together, and, yet, all alone.
In their struggle to reach their respective Shangrilas!
Ambikapur (Chhattisgarh):
I wasn't much aware of this town till perhaps a year before I actually visited it. A small town with barely over one lakh people, in the district headquarters of Surguja district in Chhattisgarh.
The town shot into prominence much before the Swachh Bharat Mission hit the roof, when a young woman collector decided to make it the cleanest city in India (which, apparently, it still is in the 1-10 lakh population category). She mobilised women from self-help groups for door to door garbage collection and created centres for waste segregation into resource management. The only landfill of the town was converted into a giant waste segregation warehouse.
The city had achieved 100 per cent waste segregation at the household level long ago, something we Delhiwallahs are struggling with till date. The town also reminded me of the legacy of old colonial town planning with their stock buildings like the collectorate, Town Hall etc.
The photograph, however, has nothing to do with all this. Just a cool evening, a small pond and two friends gazing at it, arm in arm. You don't get to see that very often, or, perhaps, I don't go out much these days.
Jahanpanah Forest, Delhi:
I used to meet this old couple every morning passing by during my walk in this medieval forest, often touted as a later Mughal summer retreat. While I was irregular, I would always spot them whenever I returned to the place.
Some months, or perhaps years later, they disappeared.
A few months later I was excited to see them back, this time the wife diligently holding the old man’s hand, while he struggled with the stick in his other. This was among the last of the days when I saw them holding each other, before they seem to have simply disappeared into the dense green of this old and beautiful forest, with its rich biodiversity, flora and fauna, and the magical sound of birds..
Badia, a small village Haat in Muzaffarpur District, Bihar:
Badia is about five kilometres from my ancestral village, which I used to visit during our school vacations. And, yet, no journey to the village would be complete without at least one trip for fish-shopping to this local market.
Known more for its weekly Haat, you had to walk all the way through fields, villages in between and a few ponds to reach there. Separated by a small embankment against the Baghmati river, you would find the usual but interesing fare on display, from locally vegetables and foodgrains, to a variety of river and pond fish, tempting looking spices, clothings, and other knick-knacks that seemed so essential for daily living.
This was the Super Mall for several villages surrounding the place, and its simple folks.
The picture here tries to capture the silence of a setting sun even when thousands of birds seem to be busy chatting away over the ancient looking banyan tree. A serene moment.
Tokyo street:
Companionship and old age can have so many dimensions.
Wandering around parts of Tokyo (for a very short visit), I would often come across sights and places, which would look exotic to an oriental eye, but would still evoke something more fundamental, and universal. This old lady and her companion strolling on a sleepy afternoon, have stayed with me, even more than the dazzling lights of the city evenings.
With dog lovers in India, especially those fighting for our community street dogs with sad, beautiful eyes, reflecting unconditional love and friendship, this should be an endearing picture.
Part 2 of images and notes on Everyday Life by Avinash Kumar.
Please see Part 1 of the series: The intimacy of everyday life.
Avinash Kumar is a historian, writer, and civil society actor whose camera becomes a quiet companion to his work and travels across India and the world. Trained in modern Indian history at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) and a Charles Wallace Fellow at SOAS, London, he has spent over two decades working at the intersection of social movements, human rights and public policy—as a teacher, researcher, campaigner, and organisational head with Amnesty International India, WaterAid, and Oxfam.
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