My first visit to Kankapura was for the Dandi project.

I returned for personal work, but the village pulled me in deeper.

Kankapura is quiet, but it speaks if you listen — old uncles roll bidi by hand with local tobacco, children run to the only school like it’s a festival, and people gather under “Gandhi Vad,” a tree named after Bapu, where stories rest in the shade. The Ramji Mandir is 600 years old, still breathing, surrounded by ruins and forgotten fragments. This place didn’t ask to be photographed — it simply existed. I just watched.

I used to avoid shooting in the rain. But this time, something changed.

A monsoon photowalk, a flash in hand, and the madness of Ahmedabad streets draped in grey. Water danced with light. People turned into silhouettes. Stray umbrellas, chai steam, horns, splashes. I didn’t plan the frames. The weather directed, I followed.

In March 2025, I joined The Salt Ride, a modern journey tracing Mahatma Gandhi’s iconic Dandi March.

Riding with cyclists and artists, we documented more than just a route — we captured stories, resistance, and memory. From crowded schoolyards to silent stretches of highway, every stop was a reminder that the spirit of Satyagraha still lives in people’s gestures, songs, and smiles. It wasn’t just a historical trail — it became a moving canvas of hope, unity, and quiet revolution.

Experiments