Even going about their daily chores, the women of India in their beautiful sarees epitomize beauty and grace.

Even when they’re just sitting in front of a massive pile of gooseberries.

Or standing at a monument waiting to go in.

The color and majesty of these flowing sarees brought out the beauty and elegance in every woman I saw.

They were oases of color in a sea of brown dirt and asphalt.

Women in India work hard; I saw so many of them toting their wares. Still, they looked elegant. Dignified.

Resplendent, even.

Even older women looked handsome and striking.

Like gorgeous butterflies.

I loved the turbaned man in the sea of femininity.

Spangles and sparkles and color. We American women think we are so modern and fashionable–but I can see that we have lost some of our femininity in the process.  I know I’m guilty of “saving” beautiful clothes for special occasions, when really, I should be enjoying them more often.

These women are gardeners. (My female gardener looks nothing like this.)

Just walking down the sidewalk, women were eye-catching, drawing my camera lens like a magnet.

These might have been eunuchs, who have a strangely mixed reputation in India. They’re bawdy and threatening and also are auspicious and asked for blessings. We went by too quickly for me to suss it out.