"I am, at heart, a story-teller,” says Samita. “And, I believe, the stories that are worth telling are those that travel through time and space, yet remain relevant despite changing social mores, political systems, ecological balances and gender equations.” Her work has always been marked by a deep empathy for the characters that dot her narrative landscape – particularly her female protagonists, through whose eyes she reflects upon the human condition – sometimes bleak, dark and despairing but, in her telling and purpose, always hopeful and optimistic.
DESC:I picked this person out from a group of just-arrived migrants. Though in new surroundings, travel weary and with a group of younger women and kids to shepherd, I saw fire in her eyes, and unflinching purpose in her posture.
DESC:Even in modern times, women have to go through fire to prove their worthiness, merit and honour. Figuratively speaking, the practice of "sati" is still to be fully extinguished.
DESC:Chugging down the Matla, in a riverboat of advanced years and disposition, manned by two Muslim boys, though “manned” would be a misnomer, the captain in his late teens and his co-pilot some years younger. Smart, competent and confident beyond their years as they gear up for an approaching storm.
DESC:After a morning of fishing deep into the sea with Dad at the helm, I got these boys to pose for me beside their drying nets. Brothers by blood, brothers in spirit.
DESC:Imagining a solitary man on a camel crossing a barren desert at night under a sky full of stars. If he were to suddenly see a bright glow, source unknown, inexplicable, would he be the same man again?
Medium:White pen on Black Paper (with a touch of pastel)
Size-in inch:20” x 15”
DESC:Non-divisiveness as I imagine it – a Hindu saint and a Muslim maulana in animated but respectful conversation, comfortable in their own skins and beliefs.
DESC:A mildly satirical imagining and rendition. While we pray to Ma Saraswati to impart knowledge and bless our children, on every visit she sees more chaos, divisiveness, violence and corruption; so much so, she becomes more concerned about her own welfare than her devotees.
DESC:To me, rocks, like clouds, take many forms. They are shape shifters, appearing as something in one kind of light and shadow and altogether something else in another. These elongated rocks are either about to fight or embrace. The shorter rocks around them could be an audience of kids
DESC:Travel weary, but with aspirations in their hearts, migrants like these abound in Kolkata’s stations at Howrah, Santragachi and Sealdah. On the first day of arrival amidst the hustle and bustle, their eyes mirror the confusion in their minds, their posture, the trepidation in their hearts.
DESC:Migrants arriving in numbers at Howrah station had me in their thrall. It was fascinating to see the expressions on their faces. Travel worn but bright-eyed, with expectations of better tomorrows, confused by their surroundings, lost in the bustle, apprehensive of the days ahead but determined to make a go of it come what may.