Behind the lens: Street sleepers

India is chaos, an overwhelming, unrelenting sensory overload. The sheer volume of movement, the layers of sound, the density of life—everything demands attention all at once.

It’s a place where you want to capture everything, but that instinct can work against you. You have to slow down, to look beyond the initial impact, to see the little moments unfolding within the madness.

I had just stepped out of a small roadside café after eating a dosa for breakfast. In India, I’ve learned to keep my camera on me at all times.

Travel in Asia has reinforced that the best images come when you least expect them. The unpredictability is what makes it so exhilarating. You turn a corner and you’ll find a scene that stays with you.

I spotted these men from across a chaotic intersection. Kolkata’s streets are a battlefield of honking horns, weaving motorcycles, and pedestrians moving in a fluid, unpredictable rhythm.

The crossroad in front of me was particularly hectic, a dangerous puzzle of movement and timing. I hesitated. I took a few long-distance shots from where I stood, but they felt detached, like I was merely observing rather than immersing myself in the moment.

I knew I had to get closer.

As I approached, I noticed the brickwork behind them. It was beautiful—earthy, textured, a striking contrast to the rawness of the street. That detail alone changed how I wanted to compose the frame. I positioned myself carefully, including the top portion of bricks to simplify the background, removing the clutter of the street while keeping the authenticity of the environment intact.

To either side of the men were chaotic shopfronts, too busy, too distracting. By framing tight, I could isolate them, drawing focus inward to what really mattered.

The symmetry struck me. The bricks, the sidewalk, the way the two men were positioned—it all aligned so effortlessly. Even their garments, nearly identical, added to the quiet, unusual beauty of the moment.

I responded quickly, instinctively, not wanting to disturb them. They were lost in sleep, unguarded and honest. That’s what street photography is about for me—capturing the unscripted, the unnoticed, without interference.

I also hate conflict. The idea of disturbing someone, of altering a scene just by my presence, makes me uncomfortable. The more discreet I am, the more authentic the moment remains.

And in that moment, the streets of Kolkata, with all their intensity and motion, seemed to pause for just a second, allowing this fleeting, intimate image to come into focus.