It took me a long time to sell my tele lenses and get some nice full frame portrait glass. I was always to shy to ask strangers permission to photograph them, often hiding in a trance of voyeurism behind the veil of the public.
'Men. Indian cities are alive with piercing eyes. A culture where watching is common. The people stare and I stare right back.'
Truthfully, when I finally bucked up the courage it was the easiest thing to do. Most people love being photographed. Particularly those from poorer backgrounds, as long as you are respectful and you are taking the portrait for all the right reasons, be proud of your skills.
'Auntie. Living in India as a white person allows you the privilege to employ. I was hesitant to get a maid. I didn't need one. I was soon informed by the expat community that my ideals were in the wrong place. How dare I come and live here but not give back, so I hired this fine lady. There was never anything to clean, we'd just chat in broken English for a few hours a week.'
Living in India was emotionally difficult, but it is the perfect place for rebirth, not the idealistic rebirth that us travellers seek, but a realisation of how brutal life is, and when you catch your breath a quiet reflection descends upon your privilege and for me, I have always looked at things differently since.
I met this family in Rishikesh. They owned the smallest eatery I've ever dined in, just a stove, one chair and a table. Rishikesh is a pure vegetarian city, making everyone there essentially vegan, which is good for me. The food was delicious. The portrait was funny, the girls couldn't stop laughing, eventually I got a straight pose however you can clearly see she is holding back a chuckle.
I first met this man when I checked into his spare room for the night in Anjuna, Goa with my wife. I soon learned he sold the best hashish I've ever smoked. Him and his family were from Kashmir and would come down during high season to a) escape winter in the north and b) Sell the hash they'd been rolling all summer. Anjuna being a party town, he had several other recreational products, but I managed to refrain. I do regret not trying Acid in Goa, bit that day will come!
I will finish this post with a group photo of the artists who at the time were maintaining and addi g to the wonderful collection of street art that is the 'Abandoned Beatles Ashram'.
Over and out,
Cotton!