Kalash
From the Steppes€600
Outside Wuruchan’s home, his Kalashnikov lay in the soft grass, unguarded, wrapped in flowers. Death and beauty?
Showing 33–64 of 79 results
Outside Wuruchan’s home, his Kalashnikov lay in the soft grass, unguarded, wrapped in flowers. Death and beauty?
Kalta Minaret, at the entrance of Khiva, an ancient silk road city recalling times of caravans and arduous journeys across deserts. Uzbekistan.
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Dices, Uttarakhand, India.
A boy plays on the wall of the family’s mud house in Kermin village, in the Chapursan River Valley. Karakoram, Pakistan.
After getting a shave from his dad, Khairuddin disposes of his hair in a ‘clean place’, such as this frozen river on the edge of camp. Although the Kyrgyz are Sunni muslims, their rituals also reflect other ancient traditions.
It was midday. A couple of weeks of altitude trekking and simple food got me lethargic; i laid under a tree. Khudo Boz came by, all ready to cut barley, asked if I wanted to join. I lifted my camera, his outfit revealing years of hard work.
I was riding a horse, trying not to get my teeth knocked out. Whip in mouth, a Kyrgyz man steers his horse in a game of buzkashi, a competition akin to polo—except a headless goat carcass takes the place of the ball. Buzkashi is the Afghan national sport. The Kyrgyz call it ulak tartysh, or “kid grabbing.”
Ganges, Rishikesh, India.
Radhika’s home, Uttarakhand, India.
Shrine, Wakhan Corridor, Afghanistan.
“And what’s behind that one?”
My two sons Timoté and Iluka and the Kumtag desert. Xinjiang, China.
Like many Rajasthani shepherds, Lakan crosses large stretches of India, feeding his herd of over 400 goats along the way.
A jeep on the treacherous road leading to Pakistan’s remotest village, Shimshal, deep in the Karakoram mountains.
Snow in August. We slept in our tent, right next to this Kyrgyz camp. She came to invite us for “chai” and stood there a second, waiting for us to get ready, gazing at her home, all she ever knew.
Narmada river, Madhya Pradesh, India.
We stopped the old Russian jeep, a UAZ. There it was, a petrol station, protected with a lightning rod, sitting all alone in the empty steppe of the Gobi desert.
“My name is Om, only Om.” He was young and smiling.
“I left before sunrise. I am walking from my home in Hoshangabad to the temple of Salkanpur, up on that hill. You see, I just got a job, I need to thank the gods! İ will return home tonight.”
I had not realized he was barefoot, wearing a freshly ironed shirt but no shoes.
Traffic is crazy, my van is on the side of the road, I record sound: “How many months have you been walking?”
“It’s been 16 months.” It’s reflected in the guy’s beards, they shaved it at the beginning of their walk and didn’t touch it after that.
“How many kilometres a day? “
“We walk about 12km daily”
“Which length of Parikrama (pilgrimage) are you doing?”
“We are doing the auspicious 3 years, 3 months, 3 days. We are Panshamdal, Kunti Bai and Dalba Yar.”
We hug and I leave.
Before heading out towards Passu Glacier. Karakoram, Pakistan.
Pegich kept circling the flames, busy as she was, mending the fire, preparing diner. The wife of Er Ali Boi, she is named after the Wakhi village she was born in, a week walk down the valley. Most Afghan Kyrgyz woman have their blouses decorated with shiny pretty things – trinkets gathered over the years, as well as with old family heirlooms.
Aerial view of the eastern coast of Greenland on the edge of Isortoq village.
Highway, Madhya Pradesh, India.
Prahlad San on his way to the ocean—still over 1,000 miles to go.
Qorun Glacier, on the ancient trail leading to Shimshal valley, the highest settlement in Pakistan. Karakoram
Radhika’s home, Uttarakhand, India.
You couldn’t miss him—such colors! On his throat is written the word “Krishna”. He is a traditional performance artist known as a behurupiya.
“I am Raje Krishna on my way to the temple, that’s who I am!”
Rakaposhi is a gem of a mountain. I always peek at the top, hoping to see someone move up there. Down below in Minapin village, water channels bring glacial waters, turning rubble into an oasis.
Rakesh Djagi, with trident on his back and Kamal Giri, his companion. They get small donations, acts of kindness to help them feed their cow named Narmada.
Radhika’s home, Uttarakhand, India.
Apricots, Shimshal, Pakistan.
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