Words are by Meera Vijayann.

Catapult through a thousand years of history in Hanoi. Religion is everywhere; yet a sense of calm washes over when you step into Văn Miếu, the old Temple of Literature. Breathe deep. King Ly Thanh Tong’s serious gaze holds your wandering eye.

Deeper inside the temple, a young student offers her prayers in silence. Devotees sit in quiet corners around the courtyard, taking in the scented air and beauty. Several important temples were destroyed during war-torn times, but locals remain rooted, protecting dying traditions.

A painter skilfully practises his art as observers look on with curiosity. Calligraphy artists sketch the language of Vietnam’s Northern neighbour, reminding visitors of shared history while hoping to impress tourists and make a sale.

Dressed in ceremonial red robes and a traditional headdress, a priest talks to assembled students. Proud parents and teachers look on, listening intently. Their young have worked hard, and today’s the day to mark their efforts.

No temple is complete without a metal pot brimming with incense sticks. Visitors often light two or three as they pass, to honour their families. Tradition and age-old ties run deep in Hanoi, so simply surrender – and let the city refresh your spirits and soothe your soul.

Well done Daylin! Click the image to read his note of appreciation.

From his e-mails, it was always abundantly clear to me that Daylin wanted more than anything to find a means of completing his work with a woman he felt a strong affinity for. Here’s an extract from his recent blog post on the subject:

For a while I really struggled to pin down why it is that I feel as strongly as I do for her, a woman I’ve only met on a handful of occasions but who has been graceful enough to allow my camera and I into her life. Being raised by a single mother who had to work hard her entire life to support my brother and I, I guess I feel a connection there. I saw what it was like for my own mother to survive and take care of us and I saw parallels with Maw’s own life.

But I think now, more than anything, it was Maw’s own willingness to share her life, her home and even her food with a stranger who could only communicate with her through body language, broken Thai and the help of a translator that really made me feel in a way I haven’t for a long time.

Collaboration

We humanitarian and development photographers are tremendously fortunate when we get to know such people while starting out on our careers. It takes time to tell a compelling story, which means they really need to let us into their lives in a significant manner. In their own humble way, they often give us far more than they realise could be possible. It would not be an exaggeration to say that they can really help us make our careers, in turn ensuring that many an organisation and the beneficiaries they support will gain from the funds our talents can open doors to. In that sense, they are unsung heroes.

Telling these important stories is a collaborative process between photographer and subject. Few photographers are sufficiently independently wealthy, especially when just setting out on their paths, to be able to pay the costs of this work alone. When people like those who have backed Daylin here pledge their support, they too become collaborators. Thanks to the magic of the Internet and crowd funding, this is today easier than ever. Yet times are hard, and we must make our cases more and more convincingly.

A beautiful moment captured by another of my mentees, Gitika Saksena.

Non-profits are often the first to remind us that times are hard. One really has to demonstrate the ability to add value in unusual and special ways if one is to secure paid work ahead of an apparent army of aspiring NGO photographers willing to shoot pro bono. Having said that, the opportunities we get to shoot for free during the early days are our chances to shine, build our portfolios and gain credibility. I did that with organisations such as Save the Children in the wake of the Egyptian Revolution and the International Institute for Environment and Development (IIED) in Kenya during the East African drought. And I never looked back.

A lot of people grumble about having to work for free in order to get a foot on the ladder. A lot of NGO photographers also grumble about those that work for free preventing them from getting paid work. When Gitika asked me whether or not she should do this, I explained why I thought she should. So she got on with it. She made contact with the India-based children’s NGO Child Rights and You (CRY) and worked conscientiously with them in order to produce The Children of Raichur.

Enablers

Again, this was an act of collaboration. Collaboration between photographer and subjects, but also with enablers. While for Daylin these enablers were people like you who donated from a distance, for Gitika they were CRY and its local partner NGO, Sneha Jeevi Samsthe, who opened the door to one of their project areas and gave her easy access. Support from people a community trusts is worth more than its weight in gold, allowing humanitarian and development photographers to get up close and personal in far less time than could be possible while working alone.

The photo essay she’s since produced will in turn open further doors for Gitika. It’s already been picked up by The Alternative (the link will take you to where it features on the site of this online social development platform), and the former India Country Director of Oxfam GB Murray Culshaw has since commented on the piece, saying “Good writing linked to fine photographs. We need so much more of both and especially when combined to help communicate the work being done by so many fine organisations”. Gitika has since been in touch with Murray, now an independent communications for development consultant, directly. She’s on her way!

So as the title of this piece says, “Bravo to my menthes!”. Your hard work will pay off, of that I’m very certain.

The words for this photo essay were written by Meera Vijayann.

Say hello to Uncle Ho: Hanoi is no stranger to revolution. The Hồ Chí Minh Mausoleum, looming above Ba Đình Square, fills you with a sense of otherness. Guards in white uniform stand outside the door in muted respect for Uncle Ho (Hồ Chí Minh), modern-day Vietnam’s first president, whose embalmed body is preserved here.

Changing times: You’ll find honour guards outside the Mausoleum all around the clock. Around midday, visitors hurry to witness the change of guard before they head to town. Amid excited chatter and hushed whispers, Hanoi seems to show you two sides of the city at once.

Soul food and longing: Soo, a young Vietnamese man, enjoys a bowl of bún chả. Bún chả, a lightly grilled pork noodle soup, is a Hanoi favourite. On a visit to the capital in 1959, celebrated Vietnamese food writer Vu Bang described it as a “town transfixed by bún chả”.

Horn of plenty: Every dish leaves the outsider guessing. In restaurants around town and outside on the pavements, it is common to see locals communally enjoying a Vietnamese Hotpot, a warming dinner dish. Slow cooked in a cauldron by the diners themselves, it has curious little additions that range from duck foetuses to baby crabs that may be eaten whole.

A class apart: You’re never far from deep-rooted culture in Vietnam. The magnificent 11th Century tradition of water puppetry, which first originated in villages along the Red River, is kept alive by skilled artisans even today. Puppeteers stand behind a screen in a waist-deep pool, controlling puppets with bamboo rods from a distance. Every detail during the performance will render you wide-eyed in wonder.

Leap of love: Patriotic folktales, delicious food, shared triumphs through history and a deep sense of national pride combine to keep Vietnamese people feeling rooted here. Its capital is a city that will welcome you with open arms, and make you want to know it intimately.

Postcard of a fishing boat on Patnem Beach in the Indian state of Goa.

Patnem Beach is simply idyllic. After too many visits to increasingly congested beaches, particularly in the centre and North of Goa, I’m finding it quite heavenly here. I first came to Patnem’s nearby cousin Palolem back in 2003, around the time it was getting ‘discovered’. A decade on, Palolem is pretty much in the mainstream, with restaurants, accommodation, canoe hire and so on from end to end (though it’s still very pleasant). Patnem, on the other hand, still seems to be relatively unknown. It surely won’t be long before this changes, as it’s clean, peaceful, has superb shallow waters for swimming and more than enough delicious food to indulge in.

I’m not the only one who seems to have made this a work base: I’ve spotted at least a couple of others with their laptops and cellphones, quietly enjoying the best office in the world!

During some free time between trips out to rural locations, I strolled down to the ghats, the steps that descend to the Ganges, the river that’s so sacred to Hindus. There’s so much going on down there, as pilgrims flock from all over the country and abroad to perform rites, people come in search of healing or else to die and be cremated, children play cricket or with kites, foreign backpackers and hippies play the tabla or even the West African djembe together, and much more. I just wanted to let it all unfold around me. Then, as darkness fell, the real magic began.

Back in Bangalore, I shared some of my images with writer Meera Vijayann, the recent winner of a CNN-IBN Citizen Journalist Award (read all about that here), and together we crafted this photo essay for you:

CLICK THE IMAGE to go to the photo essay.

Two boys apparently running off with the day’s donations at Angkor Wat, Cambodia.

Buddhist temples in South East Asia tend to have donation boxes for devotees and visitors to contribute to the their upkeep, and Angkor Wat is no exception. Of course, these two little lads are not running off with the day’s collection, though it rather looks that way. They are helping out by taking the boxes for safe keeping overnight… and doing so very enthusiastically!

A young Vietnamese student offers prayers for success in her studies at Hanoi’s Temple of Literature.

The temple dates back almost to the foundation of thousand-year-old Hanoi, and houses a shrine to Confucius and the site of the country’s first university, Quốc Tử Giám (the ‘Imperial Academy’). The Academy was at first intended only for the noble mandarins, but was later expanded to welcome other sages and scholars in the making. It remained the country’s premier seat of learning for over 700 years. While I was there, various young Vietnamese students had come to this monument to education dressed in their finest clothes (this girl is wearing the traditional áo dài) to pray that they’ll do well in their studies.