The Vendress

This pair at a market in Mumbai, India struck me with their immense contrast. A man and a woman. Young and old. Western clothes and eastern attire. Buyer and seller. But mostly a towering giant and a fragile Lilliputian.

A friend of mine remarked that scenes like this are why she won’t visit India. It’s just too sad. But is it? I’m not sure I know.

Without any evidence, I felt that I had more in common with the man. So I wondered about the woman: Who was she? What stories could she tell me? Was she happy? Did she wonder about me?

Again without any evidence, I thought it would be better to be the man here than the woman. But would it really?

Which would you rather be?

The background to the photo is this: I was wandering around Mumbai on my first visit to India, battling the heat (even in winter); basking in the pulsing, contagious energy; and joining the frenetic mix of people and animals and vehicles. I spotted this woman in a marketplace. She was so apparently fragile, so apparently at odds with what I expected, that I was reluctant to approach her, and even more reluctant to photograph her. I had a real camera with me, but I didn’t want to point the lens at her — perhaps in consideration of her feelings, but more likely because of my own discomfort. So I took this shot on the sly, with my cellphone at my side as I meandered by, hoping she wouldn’t notice me noticing her.

I wished I could have spoken with her and asked her about her life. Maybe I would have learned if my impression was reflected in her reality. But even without the cultural differences, the language barrier would have been insurmountable. So I was left with just the photo so speak — rightly or wrongly — for itself. And I promised myself that during my next visit I would wander around with a translator.