The round-faced woman gazed into the distance as if seeking help

Woman looking into distance — Woman looking into the distance

On a roadside in Murshidabad, a town in eastern India, a round-faced woman sat quietly. Dressed in a white sari, she wore a faint smile, as if waiting for something—or someone. When I pointed my camera toward her, she turned her gaze away, perhaps startled by the sudden act of being photographed. Yet her expression showed no trace of anger or rejection. Instead, there was a soft hint of expectation, as though she were silently appealing for help from someone far away.

Murshidabad was once a flourishing capital of Bengal. In the eighteenth century, a nawab’s palace stood here, and the city served as a hub of politics and trade in eastern India. But as the British East India Company expanded its influence, history’s center gradually shifted to Kolkata. The old buildings of the town still bear the shadow of that prosperity, though the people who walk its streets now seem unhurried, as if time itself had slowed down.

This woman, too, seemed to live within that gentle current of time. The lines on her cheeks were like the annual rings of a tree, each marking a passing season. A small nose pin glimmered, and flower-shaped earrings dangled from her earlobes—simple adornments, yet carrying a quiet dignity. When she finally glanced in my direction, the corner of her lips moved ever so slightly. I couldn’t tell whether it was the beginning of a smile—or the end of a sigh.

Murshidabad on Google Map

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