Marathis, on the road in Maharashtra

Meeting these boys and girls (women) was the highlight of the day. First I had cycled through parkland that was much like the country around Canberra - brown with sparse scrubby trees, but hilly and there was a dam. It was a bit autumnal and very peaceful, except for the man on a bullock cart who asked me for money and then chased me for several kilometres when I refused. You never know how serious the danger is in such situations and there is always the fear that you might be overreacting. On the other hand, if you get away without assault, that's got be considered a good thing. On my route running away from this man, I had to ride through his village, which looked like a tribal or migrant workers' camp and Indians are generally not kind about the Tribals, telling you that they are dangerous and are out to rob you. The Tribals have the stigma of gypsys in Europe attached to them and it's hard to dismiss the notion that you might be vulnerable when you are out there on your own. I wish I could get at the truth of it.

But when I came to the people above, I was on a long mountain descent and had stopped to take less interesting pictures than these above. I could see all these kids coming up the hill and decided to wait for them. The girls arrived first, on foot. I gather they were on their way to collect wood. When the boys arrived some time later on bicycles, and after I had photographed the girls, the girls left and then came back once I began photographing the boys. It was very segregated. There is something curiously Sound-of-Music about this incident and the pictures, I find. (Although in truth, I am not sure if that is the film it conjures for me or if it's another.)