After seventeen years away, I’ve done something most Indians of my generation don’t do–return back home. When people ask me where I’m from, I always stumble. I say, I was born in Calcutta but I grew up in New York. When you are young, your awareness of the larger city is limited. I have to admit, I know New York much more intimately than I feel I know Calcutta.

Calcutta is like an aging beauty–deccayed and crumbling. But she has a soul. In a way that many other cities don’t.

I can’t say my work is documenting the city. I write fiction and by nature am not always interested in what is out there or representing what I see. There is always a narrative running in my mind which doesn’t necessarily correspond to to what is real and I use the camera to express it. In that sense, I feel I’m always writing fiction with the camera.

One thought on “Calcutta”

  1. I love photos from yesteryears, have never really seen photos of the city as it is now. That’s probably because I’m a hopelessly nostalgic Bengali; pics from ’50’s and ’60’s make me nostalgic although I was born in the late ’70’s. This is probably the first time I’ve seen more recent pics and have come to quite like them. Maybe someday I’ll tell my grandkids of the city we once lived in. Thank you for the pictures. Made my day kid.


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