Out of all the pictures I’ve taken thus far, this is among my favorites. It may not be spectacular. It’s certainly not even close to professional league in quality and composition. But it is definitely charming.
I’m not sure exactly what is going on in this scene. My friends and I were visiting a village in rural Bangladesh with a Gonoshasthaya Kendra Paramedic, and we were on our way to meet a traditional midwife. As we weaved through rice paddies, determined to maintain our balance on the rail thin ridges of dirt that separated fields, I noticed this procession of ambling shrubbery.
In contrast to our struggle to stay on the ridge-paths, this group of village natives were speeding along the same tracks without a thought to balance.
I watched as they as they marched busily and easily along, their massive bundles of leaves rustling and fluttering with each step. The field and the surrounding trees were such a vibrant viridian, suddenly punctuated with a burst of teal, orange, and red forms drifting over the stalks of rice plants – I just had to capture the moment.
To take a stab at anthropology, I think the leaves are meant to be dried and used as fuel for cooking. I noticed hillocks of dried leaves on bamboo stands – 1 or 2 per house – from which homestead cooks would draw their fuel supply.
--The Journagraphist
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