They are not mere victims or poor labourers but they are someone’s sisters, wives, daughter, mothers. Most importantly they are human beings who are entitled to their rights and deserve respect. These victims have no religions, no countries, everywhere they are same. They have same tears left after they have been tortured but the taste of the tears of every woman is salty irrespective of their country, language and religion. They need their rights and deserve respect. It is their hard work abroad, that annually brings in around 15 billion dollars every year to Bangladesh economy but sadly at the high cost of ‘The pain of slavery’

A city on the bank of the river Ganges called ‘A city to live and A city to die’ . Since 11th century bc Varanasi a spiritual capital of India is drawing the hindu pilgrims who bathe in the holy river and perform the last rites. The air of Varanasi had a tune, the tune of indian classical music played by maestro like Bismillah Khan or Pandit Ravi Shankar but it’s sad to mention that the tune of the air is now replaced by the horrible pollution. Varanasi is ranked 3rd on the WHO’s list of 15 most polluted cities of the world . The condition is deteriorating day by day due to unplanned beautifications and infrastructural issues . Smog is persisting throughout the day over the city and fumes coming out from the funeral ground are adding more fuel to the fire. The sacred water is contaminated totally by the excreta through untreated sewage, ashes and sometimes the dead bodies of animals. The 23000 crores “Namami gange” project to conserve clean and rejuvenate the holy water was a total hoax and it has failed completely to reach the target. Time is changing but it is not changing to a right direction. The pollution has increased by several folds in last few years , be it in air or in water. The happiness in the people of this oldest city has now become an occasional episode in their general drama of pain. People lost their inner peace within the physical and mental space. As the time changes, not only the environment is under pressure but also the humans are!

Every life has three stages to go, childhood, youth and old age.We grow up under the support of parents in the childhood. Youth is the most cheerful part of life with friends, family members and may be with a life partner. But the most crucial part of life is old age. Unfortunately the Old people become burden of their own family and of the society and become isolated at the " Old Home" without relatives and friends. Pashupati Old age Home is such a home where they give shelter to those unfortunate people who don’t have any close relatives to take care of. The don't have to worry at least for the food, shelter and their medical emergencies. more than 150 people from different places of Nepal are now staying here and become a family. When talking to them I astonished to know some people are staying there for more than 20 years and they are happy in their own way. Laxmi Thapa (80) was busy in knitting a pancho (winter dress) , while asking for whom she is knitting the dress she happily answered for herself only. it's really made me happy to see they don’t loose the hope to live happily. Indra Maya Shrestra (75) and Laxmi Shrestra (80) are not siblings but they are always seen together. They seems each others soulmate. Old age is such a period of life when people are not exactly looking for any material wealth but some emotional support , it's the time to cherish the happy moments of life but few people don’t have this fate to share this time with their closed ones. Their fate is abandoned in a small room of an old age home. But there are times when family becomes strangers and strangers become family. Lal Giri died at the age of 91 years. She lived at the old home for last 21 years, there are no one from her home for the condolence but her peer at the old home bids the farewell to uncertain destiny. In this way last song of the life will be played silently wishing "yesterday once more".

It’s an old practice of India to isolate widows from the mainstream. The widows, who are mainly from West Bengal, Odisha and Jharkhand, have been disowned by their families and left alone in the world to struggle for survival. Widows are socially stigmatized and must forego all forms of makeup and symbols of marriage or femininity. Traditional superstitions mark them as inauspicious. That is why widows are banned from some religious ceremonies and weddings. There life is without color. Vrindavan is the home of approximately 20,000 widows thus the place is referenced as “The city of Widows”. With time the condition of the widows has changed a bit. They have got shelter, food and other facilities. They lead a very simple life but with time they become family. Few have home, few haven’t but those have, they also don’t want to return leaving this new family. Interestingly an NGO arrange Holi every year(the festivals of colors). It’s the festival of coloring their soul though. The festivity of Holi has been cancelled this year due to the pandemic situation of COVID 19. No color was used on the proposed day of the celebration, only new sarees, some fruits and most importantly face masks were distributed among all the widows as a part of precaution measures. At the time of distribution, they were counseled about the virus and how to take precautions to fight against the virus. But on the actual day of Holi, specially Dol Purnima they dedicated food and color to lord Krishna and play with colors among themselves in a very normal way

A much-needed return to ‘sweet home’ was the top most priority after spending one week in Vrindavan. Already people started returning home from different places as the COVID 19 has rang the bell of danger. Landed safely but the anxiety didn’t banish. Our government has called the lockdown within a few days. The environment of my home was already changed, it was no longer a ‘sweet home’’ as nightmares had started there already. This pandemic, this lockdown might be the most unprecedented phenomenon happened in our lifetime. Most of our plans for this entire year are getting cancelled by each passing day similar to the people who had so many unfinished works to complete yet suddenly stopped breathing and surrendered to this deadliest disease. Doctors and other health care workers are more prone to this infection due to their close contact with the infected patients and many of them died across the continents . Kolkata, the city of joy is under lockdown for months. This lock down has been taken differently by different people. Few people have taken it seriously considering the gravity of the situation but for few it is like a paid long holiday. In this situation, I somehow feel to write something. I belong to a doctor’s family. We have no luxury to spend this lock down period as a holiday in contrast it happens to be a nightmare to us as the other family member has to go to the hospital regularly. He has to attend the patients, deal with the infected samples or work with the already infected health care workers unknowingly. Me and my husband are staying in a flat in a gated compound. When he left in the early morning for his duty, I try to engage myself in my own world for rest of the days but it is not always possible as my mind is full of insights what is happening around. The number of infected cases is increasing rapidly by each passing day and we can’t even meet our aged sick parents because of the fear that they may get the infection from us. Almost every day after seeing the photos of rainbows, sunsets in social media but I am not even allowed to go to the terrace of our flat because of the fear of social outrages and stigma what the health care providers are unfortunately facing by the common people although they are working for the interest of entire society. Already few of them are not even allowed to enter to their housing complexes when they are returning from their work. Due to this fear I usually avoid to go outside during these days. , We may get the same treatment from our society members. Therefore ,my window and my small balcony have become my only breathing place during this lockdown period. Nowadays my camera has become my only friend to share my emotions and feelings. Instead of dreaming, playing and accepting any challenges in social media. we are just praying that everything gets recovered quickly and each person including our closed ones remain healthy and fine.

A summer afternoon, setting sunlight, hot coffee cups and like-minded people around a table chatting, gossiping is called “Adda” in Bengali culture. The smell of coffee can beckon each other around a table with thoughts of current political scenario, sports, art and culture. Coffee house is such a place for Bengali "Adda". Coffee House, previously named as Albert Hall in Kolkata, founded in April 1876. It has been for a long time a regular hang out and a renowned meeting place (Adda) for intellectuals and students of adjacent colleges and other institutions in the College Street. It has played an important part in Kolkata's cultural history and known as the hub of intellectual debates. Obviously, we spent here a lot of priceless time of our college life. This place is somehow a place of memories to me. Specialty of this cafe is, after entering into the big hall you can hear a buzzing sound of noise which can somehow related to the sound of waves are carelessly dribbling onto the stony beach, after settling ears you can understand it’s actually hundreds of people talking at different table debating, gossiping. There is no restriction of talking in low voice or like that. Waiters are always busy in refueling the “Adda” sessions offering more coffees and kind of small snacks. Sadly, after the Corona pandemic has affected life of the entire country, the “Adda people” think what will happen to the coffee house where social distancing is mandatory and how they will talk freely with masks with this new practice! After three months of total lock down finally the coffee house authority decides to re-open with all these new practices. Soon after that both of the old and young people return to their favorite place again. The hall has filled up with the essence of coffee again and has proved that it is evergreen and will remain in the heart of the people again and again conquering all the difficulties. Because it’s not only a cafe but an emotional and inseparable part of daily life of all the Bengalis in Kolkata.

Isolation of widows from the main society is an age old tradition in India predominantly observed among Hindu community. Though Vrindavan, the city of temples is popularly known as ‘Land of God’ but it has another face where it is called as “The city of Widows”. This city is the home of approximately 20,000 widows. There are several Ashrams run by different NGOs who are providing shelter to these widows. These poor widows who are coming mainly from West Bengal, Odisha and Jharkhand are rejected by the society when their husbands pass away. The reason is not entirely religious rather it could be seen as an economic decision taken by their relatives portraying these ladies as financial burden to their families. These widows are not entitled to take part in any religious or social ceremonies. They are forced to wear white clothes and are given bland food to eat. Even taking any non-vegetarian food is being prohibited by the law of the society. Most of them are being treated badly and always considered as undesirable to their own family members. It has been said that people decide their own destiny but it seems that society and religion are the major contributors which are deciding the fate of these poor souls. Generally their daily routine includes worshipping Lord Krishna, chit chatting, watching television or visiting nearby temples. Their long gaze is always waiting for their relatives to come. This loneliness triggers their ageing. Their gloomy faces brighten when anyone comes for their visit. They have all rights to live as a normal human being and as a part of our society. But unfortunately it seems like they are being punished for no reason. They are pristine, enchanting, loving and after all they are humble and gentle people with a good heart. In my photo essay I want to depict their life and emotions with the four elements of universe i.e. Earth. Water, Air and Fire. These elements are considered as the critical energy forces for sustaining life. All of them are the integral parts of the universe and the human body is nothing but a physical creation existing in this material realm. We, the people of this world are also made of these elements. In early Buddhism also, these four elements are considered as the basics for understanding the human sufferings in this materialistic world.

During Durga puja ,Kumari Puja—is practised by several bonedi baris in Kolkata. No distinction of race, religion or caste is made in choosing a maiden for Kumari Puja. Theoretically, any premenstrual maiden can qualify, however, in practice, usually, a Brahmin girl is chosen. According to Hindu scriptures, Kumari Puja commemorates the killing of Kolasur by the Goddess Kali. According to legend, Kolasur had occupied the heavens and the earth. The helpless deities approached Mahakali for help. Responding to their appeal, she was born again as a maiden (Kumari) and killed Kolasur. Kumari Puja has a strong socio-religious connection to Bengal. Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, a leading figure of the Bengal Renaissance, worshipped his wife and spiritual consort, Sri Sarada Devi, as the manifestation of the Divine Mother. Later, after the establishment of the Ramakrishna Mission monastic order at Belur Math, Swami Vivekananda continued the custom of Kumari Puja during Durga Puja. He was a firm believer that ‘to look upon God as Mother is the purest and the highest form of Sadhana.’ The philosophical basis of Kumari Puja is to unleash the potential of the energy that regulates all creation, stability and destruction. Though we venerate the Divine Mother and Adi Shakti during festivals like Durga Puja, India remains largely a misogynistic patriarchal society, and excessive religious orthodoxy continues to victimise women. Even after seven decades of Independence, scores of women continue to suffer violence, discrimination and injustice in the name of family, tradition, culture and honour. Female foeticide is still a raging problem in many Indian states. The girl child needs social empowerment, education, respect, safety and economic freedom in a true sense. As a society, we must ensure that a girl child is treated equally and should be nurtured in such a way that she can choose her own destiny by breaking all glass ceilings imposed by society. Until that happens, merely treating a girl child like a goddess for a few days in the year will not bring any true change to her role and position in Indian society.

As the shrill sound of sirens increases, Mira grasps Aleksandra’s hand; she is the oldest child in the group who knows the meaning of siren. Only after a telephone call, on the next day without any hesitation Alejandra took her child and joined Veronica’s family on the journey to Lviv from where they planned to go to Denmark. Two friends with their children and mother started their journey with the essentials they could take. War has changed everything. The unpredictable aggression of the neighboring country started on 24th february,2022. More than 4 million people flew from the motherland to the neighboring countries with fear in their eyes. The mass destruction of their fellow citizens and the properties left them blank and without any hope. The journey of this family is a reflection of millions of misfortunes. Veronica and Alekjandra , friends for more than ten years. They have faith in each other to support themselves in the risky journey of 35 hours crossing the Polish border. At that time the war had already started. They just left in their pajamas with some warm clothes on. They cannot even bring their favorite dress or the red lipstick. Leaving the country forcefully is always painful, for them also it is not easy to say goodbye to their parents, and grandparents; for the age who denied leaving the country. Somehow, they managed to leave their hometown Zaporizhya, Ukraine but their husbands couldn't. Though their husbands are not in the military, according to Government law; all the male between 18-60 should be in the country for the war; they have to fight for the nation. Women and children have only safe passage to another country. Veronica (31yrs) with her two children Karoline (9months), Evan (2.5 yrs) and her mother Natalia (52yrs) are now staying in Aarhus with her friend Aleksandra (30yrs) and her daughter Miraslova (8yrs). They are almost settled now. Denmark welcomed them very well. They are living in an apartment in Central Aarhus but fear of war is still there in their mind. After getting the apartment they love to go around the city only to forget the war situation and tension regarding all these. Alekjandra tries to think it is just a tour to Denmark; they want to explore Denmark as much as they can. When the tour is over, they will return to their home soon. Goosebumps still appear when Alekjandra talks about fleeing from Ukraine, when she talks about her cat, her plant she had to leave back in the home. Veronica loves to recall their life back in Ukraine, she had a busy professional and personal life there. When showing photos in her iPhone she scrolled back when the photos of borders came.