A lot of kids gathered around for my camera

As I walked through the streets of Mumbai, I would occasionally stumble upon unexpected gatherings of people.

It happened one such time. In a small square-like corner, an open space facing the alley, a handful of locals were seated in relaxed postures. Some chatted idly with one another; others stared into the glow of their mobile screens, letting time drift by. They had noticed me. Yet, none showed any particular interest. A few glanced in my direction, but their looks were neither appraising nor welcoming—nor rejecting. It was a gaze that lay somewhere between curiosity and indifference, dry and weightless in its detachment.

That atmosphere let me ease my shoulders just a little. This kind of measured distance can offer a rare sense of comfort while traveling. Encouraged by that feeling, I continued walking farther in—and found myself unexpectedly welcomed.

By children.

The moment they spotted me, they let out inaudible cheers and came running toward me. There were about ten boys and girls, all varying in age and dress. We didn’t share a language. But the light gleaming in their eyes said everything: they had seen the camera in my hand. They wanted me to take their picture.

“Okay,” I muttered instinctively in Japanese, raising my camera slowly.

Instantly, the children broke into smiles. One puffed out his chest; another held up a triumphant peace sign. The shutter clicked, echoing through the dry alleyway with a pleasant snap. It was a moment of pure joy. Language, culture, background—none of it mattered. In front of the camera, there was only a group of cheerful kids, and a traveler quietly observing them.

And then, through the viewfinder, a flicker of discomfort passed.

There was one boy who wasn’t smiling.

He, too, was looking at me. But his gaze was different from the others’. His brow was faintly furrowed, his mouth held in a firm line as he stared straight into my lens. Behind that expression, I sensed the quiet presence of a watchful observer.

Perhaps it was caution. His eyes seemed to be assessing me—this foreigner with a camera. Not curiosity, but suspicion. Amid the lively commotion, he alone wasn’t sure what to make of me.