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Picture of a young boy taken in Vagamon, Kerala.

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Picture of a young boy taken in Vagamon, Kerala.

Children at the Festival of Saint Sebastian
Picture taken in Vagamon, in the Kottayam hills, Kerala

The school run.
Picture of school children in a Fort Cochin auto-rickshaw taken at seven in the morning.

Boys hitch a ride on the back of a Ganpati festival float.
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Picture taken in Kannur, Kerala

A child breaks free on the sands of Payyambalam beach in Kannur.

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Picture taken in Fort Cochin

We leave Tingmosgang, and head back towards Leh,
catching momentary glimpses of a child’s unfathomed life.

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Pictures taken on the road from Tingmosgang, Ladakh.

The innocence of childhood.
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The realities of toil.
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The weathering of experience.
“Cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life.”
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Pictures taken on the same afternoon, whilst on the road in Ladakh.

To the loser it’s just a matter of survival..
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The origin of the phrase To the victor go the spoils can be found here.
Picture taken outside the grounds of Bishop’s House, Cochin

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Picture taken in Cochin.

Woman with grandchild
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Picture taken at 6:30am in Patallam, Fort Cochin.

Protected by her father’s watchful left foot
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Picture taken on Fort Cochin beach.

Singing in the rain…

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Photographs taken in Pelling, North India.

Colour.
If you’ve got it:
flaunt it..
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Picture of boy with umbrella taken in Upper Pelling, Sikkim.

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Pictures taken on-board the Fort Cochin Ferry.
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Friday’s child is loving and giving.
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Schoolboy buying milk for his family’s breakfast.
Picture taken by the Pattalam milk shop, Cochin
Monday’s child is fair of face
Tuesday’s child is full of grace
Wednesday’s child is full of woe
Thursday’s child has far to go

Wednesday’s child is full of woe.
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Monday’s child is fair of face
Tuesday’s child is full of grace..
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Picture taken in Palace Road, Cochin.

Monday’s child is fair of face..
Picture taken in Sri Krishna Cafe, Cochin.

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As a child, I lusted after a toy “Post Office” kit.
Included in its bounty were mock forms, paper stamps, rubber stamps and, in the deluxe versions, even a toy cash register.
My friend, an only child, had one. And rather selfishly, I often went to play with his post office, rather than him.
Once an adult, I became increasingly averse to form-filling.
Clichéd though it is, life definitely turns in circles.
I have chosen to live in a land held captive to complex paperwork.
But now I never fill a form.
Shaji my house manager, or Charlie my agent, negotiate the slow paths of India’s bureaucracy for me.
And when, occasionally, the situation turns truly Kafkaesque,
I hand the process to John T Sebastian,
my advocate.
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Picture of a Hindu Temple Office, taken in Cochin.