I took this photo in the early morning of my birthday in November. I had just woken up and was taking a stroll in the Mundari camp where I saw this man singing out loud and walking around the camp with his cow. I wondered what he was doing. I was told that the girl he liked was in the camp. He was singing about how beautiful his cow is, and how he would give that cow to her family if she agreed to marry him.
Just after I took this photo I got a phone call from the capital city Juba. We were summoned to the office of media authority because we were accused of spying in the country and photographing without proper permits. The accusations were serious and the consequences seemed even worse. We were advised to escape the county- we had two options: drive south through the conflict and risk being in middle of the war or drop all our equipment-everything we had-and leave as tourists from Juba airport.
We picked the latter hoping that our names wouldn’t raise suspicions at the airport. Have you seen Argo?
I started my birthday in a remote cattle camp in South Sudan and ended in Kampala, Uganda. I turned 31 that day. While sitting in that airplane, nervous and scared out of my wits, I asked myself a question- “How did I even get here?” “Why do I do this?” I am still wondering. I don’t exactly know why, but I know that it’s important to meet amazing people whose lives are so different from mine, but with whom I can still feel such a human connection. It’s a gift, wrapped up in foreign clothing, traditions, and food, but in the end we always recognize our sameness and the fact that we’re all part of one big human community. #love #life #photography
I travel to see.
But sometimes, the camera isn’t enough.
So I sketch to remember how it felt.
Over the years, these pages have become my second passport.
filled with moments that never made it into a photo
but stayed right here.
This is my sketchbook.
A record of stillness in motion.#sketchbook #sketchwork
Every Diwali, artists from @sanskruti_kala_academy in Vadodara spend weeks creating Rangolis, intricate patterns made entirely by hand.
And after a few days, they’re swept away.
Like the mandalas made by Buddhist monks, they remind us of impermanence. That art, like life, is meant to be lived, not owned.
This year, some of those Rangolis were made from my photographs.
A full circle moment.
#FullCircle #Vadodara #RangoliArt #Diwali2025 #IndianArt #Impermanence
What was supposed to be a simple visa run turned into a journey through clouds, chaos, and calm.
I had to leave India for three days to renew my visa — so I flew to Nepal with my father.
What I found there wasn’t just temples or mountains… it was stillness, sound, and a reminder of something ancient within.
Filmed in Kathmandu, Bhaktapur, and Pashupatinath, this short cinematic film captures a 72-hour micro adventure — between heaven and earth, movement and silence, father and son.
🎥 Shot on: DJI Osmo Pocket 3 #nepal #djiosmo #djiosmopocket3 #dji #kathmandunepal🇳🇵 #cinematic #vlog #travelvlog
This image is a moment from that liminal space — where myth walks beside us in flesh and bone.
At the Ambubachi Mela in Guwahati, Assam — a woman stood before me, adorned as Mother Kali. Fierce. Unapologetic. Divine.
Kali is one of the most powerful and complex goddesses in Indian mythology. She is the fierce embodiment of Shakti, the divine feminine energy that both creates and destroys.
Kali invites us to face the uncomfortable truths — of mortality, transformation, rage, and shadow. She teaches that destruction is not always negative — it is often a necessary prelude to rebirth. In a world obsessed with control, perfection, and comfort, Kali reminds us of the power of surrender, chaos, and the sacred wild. #kali
I went to Point Hope, Alaska 2 year ago with @jeremonious on a project. Point Hope, Alaska, is one of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements in North America, where the Inupiaq people have lived for over 2,500 years. In the winter months, temperatures often plunge below –30°C (–22°F), with icy winds sweeping across the tundra, making it one of the coldest inhabited places in the U.S.—harsh, yet deeply rooted in tradition and resilience.
Our final day in Point Hope marked the culmination of a journey filled with intriguing interviews and unexpected connections. It was a day that unfolded with the enigmatic presence of Henry, an elderly indigenous man whose essence radiated a bright energy capable of illuminating the space around him.
Born into a world shaped by resilience, Henry’s early challenges only foreshadowed the remarkable person he would become—a skilled carpenter, an artist, and an ex-whaling captain, deeply connected to his Inupiaq roots.
As the son of the last village chief, Henry’s familial ties run deep. His story, woven with compassion, reveals the touching care of his 3-year-old sister, who tended to him as a premature baby, turning him every few minutes to shape his developing skull. This early bond planted the seeds of gratitude that would later blossom into acts of profound kindness.
Henry’s craftsmanship extends beyond his artistic endeavors; he built a house with his own hands for his sister, recognizing the debt of love and care owed to her. This act stands as a testament to the enduring bonds within the community, where familial ties are as robust as the icy winds that sweep across the Arctic landscape.
In the heart of Point Hope, Henry’s story mirrors the resilience and interconnectedness of a community shaped by tradition, family, and the enduring spirit of the Arctic. 🌟❄️ #PointHopeStories #InupiaqHeritage #ArcticResilience
While documenting Guatemalan culture, I witnessed something deeply familiar — fire being offered in prayer, invoked in silence, in rhythm, in devotion.
It reminded me of home. Of India. Of Tantra.
In Guatemala, fire is central to Mayan ceremonies — a bridge between the human and the divine. Corn, flowers, candles, and copal are offered to honor ancestors and ask for guidance. The fire becomes a living being — a messenger.
In India, fire is Agni — the witness of all rites. In Tantric rituals, the flame burns away illusion, purifies karma, and invokes Shakti. Ghee, herbs, and mantras feed the fire — the portal to transformation.
Two ancient civilizations, worlds apart, yet both tending the flame.
🔥 As prayer. As offering. As medicine. As portal.
Maybe our ancestors knew!
#guatemala #india #tantra
Varanasi, one of the world’s oldest living cities, sits on the banks of the Ganga as a timeless symbol of death, rebirth, and devotion. Revered in Hinduism as the city of Shiva, it’s believed that dying here breaks the cycle of rebirth. From ancient scriptures to modern cinema, Varanasi has been a muse for mystics, poets, and filmmakers alike — a living, breathing paradox of chaos and calm.
The Bahuroopiyas are itinerant impersonators, storytellers, and street performers who have, for centuries, assumed the roles of gods, mythological characters, freedom fighters, and folk heroes. They travel from village to village, especially during fairs and festivals, and appear unannounced — often arriving in character, fully transformed, to surprise, entertain, or bless.
Their performances are not just entertainment—they carry a spiritual weight. When a Bahuroopiya becomes Kali, Hanuman, or Shiva, the transformation is total—costume, voice, posture, energy. It is both art and offering.
In many rural areas, people treat them as temporary incarnations of the deity they portray—offering food, money, or touching their feet.
Today, the Bahuroopiyas are a vanishing tradition. Many struggle economically and are losing visibility in a fast-modernizing society. Yet their work is a powerful reminder of India’s living mythologies—
I photographed this girl dressed as Kali at the Shivratri Mela in Junagadh, Gujarat in 2016
