chitraabindu.in

Kankapura

Kankapura: A Monologue in Stills

A photo series by Krishna Dasiyani

My first visit to Kankapura, a quiet village near Borsad, Gujarat, was in March—part of my documentation for the Dandi Project. It was a focused trip. I wasn’t really there to shoot photos. I observed, I passed through, I moved on.

But the place stayed with me.

So I went back.

This time, it was for personal work. No deadlines, no research, no rush. Just me, back in the same dusty lanes—this time with my camera strapped on loosely, no agenda. And slowly, without asking for it, the village began to unfold again.

The Beauty of a Place That Doesn’t Try

Kankapura isn’t made for tourism or Instagram.

It doesn’t try to look pretty. But it is.

It’s real, which is rarer.

There’s tobacco growing in patches. Old uncles rolling bidis by hand like it’s second nature. There are just one or two schools in the entire village, and yet, the kids are full of life—excited, wide-eyed, eager to be seen and heard.

At the center of the village stands the Gandhi Vad, an old, wise tree named after Gandhiji. It’s not just a landmark—it’s the soul of the village. People gather there to rest, talk, argue, or simply sit. It’s the place where things pause.

Just a little away is the 600-year-old Ramji Mandir—weathered, cracked, beautiful in its brokenness. You can feel time breathing through it.

And then there’s my favorite spot—a quiet stretch near the banks of the Mahi River. The river is mostly dried out now, but the land around it holds something gentle. The stillness there is thick. I’d often just sit. Camera off. Mind quiet.

Photographing the Pause

This wasn’t a photo shoot. It was an experience.

A collection of moments that didn’t perform, just existed.

I didn’t chase visuals. I walked till they revealed themselves—like a door half open, a goat walking into frame, a kid watching me silently, or smoke curling up from a mud stove.

Sometimes the light was harsh. Sometimes flat. But always honest. And I realized that’s exactly what I was chasing—honesty, not aesthetic.

The series you’re about to see is not curated for perfection.

It’s stitched together from truths.

This is Kankapura

There are no tourist spots here. No filters.

Just a village with its own quiet pace. Its own rhythm. Its own story.

This photo series is my attempt to hold on to that rhythm.

To show the silence, the texture, the truth—without adding anything extra.

Let the photos speak.

Let the dust settle.

Let the stillness breathe.

Kankapura, Gujarat.

From March to now.

From observation to immersion.

From outsider to witness.

This is how I saw it.

This is how I lived it.

Now, it’s yours to experience.

The GOATs Who Made It All Feel Like Home

No journey like this happens without people who make you feel like you belong—even when you’re an outsider with a camera.

Pintu Bhai – the GOAT chef. The smell of his cooking still lingers in my memory. Food, like people, tastes better when it’s made with love.
Prakash Bhai – another quiet helper, who was everywhere I needed help, always kind, always generous.
Takhath Sinh – the GOAT all-rounder, full of life, jokes, and hands that helped everywhere. The village’s unofficial problem-solver.
Harendra Bhai – the OG, the calm backbone. The man who always had things sorted before I even thought to ask.
Maksul Bhai – the housekeeper, the silent guard of comfort. Always present, never loud.

These weren’t just people I met.

They were the unsaid part of every frame I shot.

They made Kankapura feel not just like a location—but a story I was allowed to be part of.