At Nandner, a small tribal village near Itarsi.
In the picture you see my host at the backyard of the house preparing buttermilk for us.
Can you spot the broom which caught my fancy throughout my stay here?
Food for four.
Our host had a recent surgery so she couldn't cook for us other than the day we had arrived. It was her mother (who you see in the first picture) who heated the hearth for us in the coming days. This use to exhaust her by the end of the day. We decided to help the household by preparing the last meal of the day.
In this picture you can see bāth served for four in dinner as my fellow intern hated the delicious rotis.
Children of Nandner.
It had rained heavily while we were trying to cross the village on an assignment, so we took cover but the cycle got drenched.
My host's doggo, Boss. He always lazed around but never in the times of need. Here he looks on at the aangan as I enjoy the evening breeze, capturing him on my phone.
Can you spot my fetish now?
The Turban Man.
He reminded me of my days in Rajasthan. His animated way of talking, hand gestures, varied degrees of screeching made me laugh. It was sad that he only showed up at the end of our stay.
Count the chapals.
This is at Sankheda, one of the 'advanced', 'developed' villages of Itarsi as told to me by its residents. The proximity of this village to the city limit was less than that of Nandner.
I wonder how it was better than that of my host village?
My host - Laxmi Di.
From the terrace of my host's home.
From the terrace of my host's home.
From the terrace of my host's home.
Annoying children of Nandner.
The only government primary school of my host village. All these children were prancing around till the teacher came and gave them chittar. Look how quite and huddled they are now.
Women of the school preparing to get clicked 1
Women of the school preparing to get clicked 2
Women of the school get clicked.
Boss is here, lazying in the night as we prepare to sleep.
One fine evening at the host's maize field. Her sister and her brother-in-law took us around the farm.
Quite a juicy and sweet experience.
As we were about to leave.
Railway Station Road, Itarsi.
Tracks and people.
Random uncle's cap was such a vivid change.
A Window is a romance.
