An elderly man wearing a Tilaka was selling tomatoes by the roadside

Old man with Tilaka selling tomatoes — Old man with Tilaka

The western Indian city of Pune lies under the gentle sunlight of the Deccan Plateau. A few hours by train from Mumbai, the dry plains gradually give way to scattered cattle and dusty trees before the hum of the city comes into earshot. Pune is known as a university town—intellectual, yet touched by chaos. And in the midst of that chaos, I came across a man selling tomatoes by the roadside.

He had set up a parasol for shade, spread a burlap sack on the ground, and piled his bright red tomatoes high on a small scale. Each one was round, plump, and gleaming—ruby-like under the afternoon sun. When I stopped to look, he lifted a few tomatoes in his palm and smiled, showing his teeth. It wasn’t the forced grin of a merchant angling for a sale, but rather the spontaneous smile of someone caught by a private memory. Beneath the brim of his cap, a vivid red line was drawn vertically across his forehead—a tilaka.

A tilaka is a Hindu religious mark, and its shape and color vary depending on one’s sect and deity of devotion. His single vertical red line indicated faith in Vishnu, the preserver god. I learned that many devotees apply it each morning after prayer. The pigment, called kumkum, is made from turmeric mixed with slaked lime, producing a deep vermilion hue. In a science class it might be explained as a “natural dye,” but here it is something far more profound—a sign of faith, pressed between the sacred and the everyday, much like the man himself standing there, smiling beneath the Indian sun.

Pune on Google Map

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