Glancing at the Yellow Fields: A Walk through the Mustard Fields of Banaras
Priyanka Kumar
→MFA PRINT 2026
All images by the author.In the heart of the oldest city in the world, Banaras, I found a bridge. I have been coming to Banaras for many years because my family lives here. It may seem strange, but I love the smell of Banaras’s soil, the incense sticks, the food, the paan, and the mustard fields. I have driven through these fields many times, and this time, when I was to be in Banaras as a photographer, I was ready to explore what I had not seen since childhood. This search took me to the outskirts, away from the ghats (river banks) and into the fields. The first day I got there, it felt like I was on a new planet. I knew the old, beautifully bustling lanes of Banaras, but as I was under the sun in the field, I could hear my breath. It was beautiful.
For the first few days, I just sat there by the fields, by a project site where an army of women was working under the sun. I was almost sure I would faint when one of them bought me the sweets they eat on their break—chickpeas with jaggery and sesame seeds. That got us talking. I talked to Sunita first, one of the women working in the field. Think of her as first in command of this little group of women. She was the one who managed their daily attendance, pay, and leaves. She also worked with them. It was humbling to see these women work. As a photographer, I did not know how to take photographs that presented what I was seeing and experiencing in a manner that was closest to reality.
We, the photographers, have been made aware of the various problems one has to be aware of when photographing people you don’t know. The photographer is an outsider, a tourist, visiting these people’s lives for a short time, but being given the privilege to capture an interpretation of their life. In a recent lecture with my professor, we talked again about this issue, which documentary photographers have always faced. A photographer creates a transparent division between “Us” and “Them”—us being the photographer and viewer, them being the people/subject being photographed. My mentor, Mr. Bharat Choudary, also made me aware of this during the shoots, reminding me to not look at people like an outsider and to be sensitive and empathize. I tried to shed my perspective and just see and connect with these women on the level of being a woman. I connected with their domestic life, and how it’s so similar to my newly married life. I noticed the ideal iconography of being a married Indian woman who is wearing all the signifiers of being married even when she is plowing the earth with her mighty hand and a shovel. One woman adorned the bindi, bangles, rings, mangalsutra, toe rings, nail polish, colorful saree, and the tattoos of her husband’s or a god’s name on her arms. Those embellishments did not seem to interfere with the laborious work she performed diligently from morning to sun-down, the way it would be mine. But of course, I am privileged, there’s no denying it.
My two-week journey to witness the lives of these women working under the government’s rural employment scheme taught me a few things. This project, far from being merely an artistic endeavor, became a deeply personal exploration into the essence of community living and the remarkable resilience of women in rural India.
The women I met weren’t just people in front of my camera—they were the embodiment of strength, love, and an unwavering spirit. Their lives, intertwined with the rhythms of nature and the demands of daily labor, wove a rich tapestry of experiences that spoke volumes about the true meaning of community. In a world where individualism often overshadows collective well-being, these women demonstrated that survival isn’t just about meeting basic needs but about sharing, caring, and building a support system that sustains everyone.
In this small village on the outskirts of Banaras, the concept of community was not an abstract idea but a lived reality. The women, bound together by their shared experiences of working, had developed a system of mutual support that was both practical and profound. It was common to see them exchanging each other’s resources to ensure that everyone in the community had access to things the other person needed, like work, food, rearing animals, milk from cows, and the produce from the little kitchen garden. They all took turns to help each other when the fields were ripe to be harvested. There was an unwritten social understanding that they helped each other in their fields and beyond. When did I last see that in the city? I was mesmerized.
Their cooperation (for lack of a better word) extended far beyond the workplace. Water, often a scarce resource in rural areas, was shared among households to ensure that no one went without it. Fields were treated as communal assets, where one woman’s crop could benefit another’s. Sugarcane, spinach, and herbs were grown not just for individual consumption, but also for the collective good.
This symbiotic relationship stretched into their homes as well. During times of celebration—like weddings—their doors were always open to guests, and their resources were shared without hesitation. The bullock carts and cars, though limited, became vehicles of community service, transporting people and goods as needed. Even the utensils are shared during festivities and funerals to ensure there is enough for the people.
With their husbands traveling long distances for work, women shouldered the responsibility of running households, raising children, maintaining the fields, working for the government, and earning too. Their days began before dawn and ended only when the last chore was completed in the dusk. Yet, despite the physical demands of their labor, they carried themselves with a grace and smile that was truly inspiring.
Their strength wasn’t just physical but emotional as well. The bonds they formed with one another provided a vital support system. They shared their joys and sorrows, their successes and failures. In a society where women/people are often expected to compete with one another, these women choose to collaborate every time. They understood that their prosperous survival depended not on individual achievement but on collective effort.
As I photographed these women, I couldn’t help but notice the children who accompanied them to the fields. Though young, these children were an integral part of the community fabric. After returning from government schools, they spent their afternoons playing in the fields while their mothers worked. The fields, a place of labor for the women, became a playground for the children, where they learned the values of cooperation and hard work from an early age. The laughter of the children echoed through the fields, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, life continues with hope and joy. Their presence added warmth to the photographs, capturing the essence of community life, where everyone, regardless of age, had a role to play.
Through my lens, I hoped to capture not just their physical labor but the spirit of unity and generosity that defined their lives. In a world where material wealth is often seen as the ultimate goal, these women reminded me that true richness lies in the strength of our relationships and our ability to support one another. Their lives, though marked by hardship, were also filled with love, laughter, and an unwavering commitment to the well-being of their community.
This photographic project, though brief, has left an indelible mark on my heart. It has deepened my understanding of the human experience and reaffirmed my belief in the power of art to tell stories that need to be heard. As I continue my journey as an artist, I carry with me the lessons learned from these remarkable women of Banaras—a reminder that, in the face of adversity, we can choose to build a world rooted in compassion, cooperation, and care.
With heartfelt gratitude, I dedicate this project to the women who welcomed me into their world, trusting me to capture the stories of their labor, their resilience, and their unwavering spirit. Their lives, so intertwined with the rhythms of nature, offered a rare and intimate glimpse into the heart of rural India, and for that, I am forever thankful. I will visit again.
Priyanka Kumar sees themes of gender, healing, and identity through folklore and mythology, drawing on cultural and spiritual diversity, and blending traditional narratives with contemporary perspectives.