This photo series is an attempt to showcase such men and women without whom the society would be incomplete. I have been living out of Calcutta for the last 20 odd years across various parts of the world. However since the day I had picked up the camera, it has been my dream to capture the true essence of the city that I was born and grew up in – Calcutta – The city of Joy. So last year when I landed in the city I made it a point to grab my camera, and reached Esplanade and start walking. I did not have a specific agenda or photographs in mind. I just wanted to see Calcutta as it is. While I walked in the wee hours of the morning, I saw the city waking up slowly and coming to life. I clicked a few photographs and then stopped for tea. While sipping the tea, I was going over the pictures that I had just clicked. I realized that unknowingly I had been clicking hands doing the mundane works. I was intrigued and looked at the pictures closely. I saw the weathered palms and veins sticking out. It made me wonder what we would have done if these people did not exist. Thus, started my journey of HANDS AT WORK as a humble mark of respect for such unsung heroes.

Scaled, gutted and cut off in the head, some creatures become food for the ravenous city to gorge on.














From the mouth of one dented mug to another, rusty and old conversations roll sweet and bitter at the same time, warm and burning the tongues at the same time.

The plaque is all that will remain of the hands, homes and histories.

For all lost keys in the city, find the man who knows how to make another.















And thus the wheel rolls.














That night, the city slipped inside the ancient whale and we just clung to its vertebrae.














His hand before it grabs, stops for a moment to stare at the heat and smell rising from the food, memories of his long left home and village.














Ask about roots, the 5th generation Chinese woman will hand you sausages and reveal countries within the city you thought you knew.














All love stories, he knew, smeared his hands with clay and creation.














The hands that play the god are the same ones that she plays with.














As I look down to the Earth,
Where the vast populace berth,
Amidst din they move on
In many a band and direction
From age to age to meet
Man’s myriad need,
That does goeth
In life and death.

 (Rabindranath Tagore, They Toil)