For years, I did not realise or think deeply about my relationship with water. I grew up in Szentes—a town in south-eastern Hungary near the Tisza River. We spent most family outings and holidays on the banks of this river. Szentes is well known for its thermal baths—an integral part of Hungarian culture, something I still do every week in Budapest. Most of my memories growing up were centred around water. I did not realise this until I began photographing the Brahmaputra.
As I photographed the people living on the island of Majuli in Assam, I was flooded by memories because I started comparing the two realities. It was inspiring to see how connected they were to the river. It made me think about the situation in Hungary. Do people in Hungary have the same connection, or is it disappearing? How are we and our waters affected by climate change?
It is a cliché that a river can bind destinies, but that has been true for my story. Having experienced another culture’s connection to it, I can no longer look at my own in the same way. The relationship between the Tisza River and the people from my childhood still exists but is fading. Many still enjoy going down to the river, but primarily for recreation. The Brahmaputra, through its sheer size and power, commands respect.