I’ve spent this year living in India, and for some of that time, I’ve been in Gogunta (Andhra Pradesh) — the village of my forefathers, where my father, grandfather and great-grandfather were raised. My paternal grandparents still live there.
I grew up in America, and during this trip, I experienced the same feeling that I had on my last visit, 10 years ago. I wondered how Gogunta was still around in the same shape and form. I was, and still am, fascinated by how the village is stuck in time — it doesn’t seem to have aged in any way, nor is it overrun by the modernity of everywhere else I’ve lived. The people just work with what they have, and get through each day with what is in front of them.
It’s a small, quiet town with a population of around 200. On a regular day, it is peaceful and serene. You can only hear the gentle sounds of nature — the sounds that animals make as they roam around — and the occasional honk of a scooter or two.
That is until school is let out at 4 p.m. and the lively chatter and laughter of children walking back home fills the air. Whenever I’m there, after school, the children rush to my grandparents’ home to get me. And I gladly spend hours with them, joining whatever game they’ve decided on for that day — taken up by their innocence and harmless mischief. Some of the games are untouched by time — they are what my father and grandfather played as kids. As time passes, I witness the ordinary transforming into the extraordinary through the eyes of the children — and my own. A gentle reminder, to myself, that joy is simple and unwavering when you are ready to participate.
These images — shot in Gogunta, outside my grandparents’ home, and in and around my dad’s high school in Ramannagudem (also in Andhra Pradesh) — are an ode to the simple joys of childhood....
