This beautiful woman stood with me for nearly an hour off to the side of a huge pandal (temporary structure erected to house festival idols) watching an endless crowd of pilgrims prostrate and make offerings before the clay painted statue of the Goddess Durga. Every once in a while she would gently tap me on the wrist to point to some interesting group of people or to explain what the priest was doing. She spoke hindi, which I don’t speak – but somehow we managed to communicate.
This beautiful young girl is trying to escape the Kolkata heat by hiding under the folds of her mother’s sari.
Every time you hear a bell ring, it means that some angel’s just got her wings.
I was drawn to the strength in this woman’s expression and in her hands. She had just finished washing a load of clothes when a loud crowd of men carrying very large, very heavy “idols” passed by the ally.