Indian Food Photography

Arisa Pitha

It’s a rain-drenched July afternoon. A knock on the door shakes me out of slumber. Such an ideal ...

No one in the school, not even Durwanji, with his pretentious twirling moustache, and usually an ...

And the milk splits again. No, I shall not blame the milk. Despite the multiple misses, S and I ...

S and I both love our books. Nothing gives us more joy than spending endless hours idling around ...

An Amphan-battered Bengal inches back to normalcy. Rising from the devastation left behind by the ...

I hear the monstrous storm pummel the doors. The windows fling open and shut, toyed upon by the ...

Delhi was explosion on my food senses. The decadent world of Mughlai cuisine left me spellbound and ...

Bapi rarely cooked. And that wasn’t because he didn’t know how to cook. In fact, he adored ...

The second week of lockdown. And I wake up craving for sugar. I bring it up to S as we sip our ...

I have been extremely worried out Maa - she and Mashi have been alone ever since our house-help left ...

The fifth morning of lockdown. We are getting used to blissful time-stop-still mornings - sublime ...

Its the fourth morning of the lockdown. The tension in the air is palpable. There’s ...