Across these photographs, women are the unmistakable backbone of this market. From fish and fresh vegetables to raw beef, pork, and roasted corn, it is mostly women who sit behind makeshift tables, plastic crates, and tarpaulin sheets—counting change, weighing produce, calling out prices, and negotiating with familiar customers. In many households, this Saturday income is crucial, supporting families through small but steady trade.
The market’s informality is also its strength. Vendors adapt to narrow lanes and steep slopes, setting up under staircases, beside shuttered shops, and along busy crossings. Overhead, tangled electric and cable wires crisscross the sky, while below, scooters, pedestrians, and buyers weave through rows of goods laid directly on the ground. There is little separation between traffic and trade, between movement and pause—everything happens together.
Food tells its own story of local taste and culture. Fresh fish on ice, slabs of pork, whole chickens, heaps of leafy greens, bananas stacked on cloth sheets, and seasonal fruits reflect everyday Mizo cuisine and buying habits. The presence of raw meat sold openly on the street, alongside vegetables and flowers, gives the market a distinctive character rarely seen in many other Indian cities.
Yet beyond commerce, these scenes speak of social life. Neighbours meet while buying dinner, short conversations unfold between bargaining, and children wait beside their mothers. The market becomes a shared public space where economic survival and social connection merge.
These photographs capture more than a busy street—they capture how Aizawl balances faith, work, and community. With Sunday devoted to worship, Saturday becomes the city’s collective marketplace, sustained largely by women whose labour keeps both kitchens and local economies running. In this weekly ritual, the streets themselves become stalls, and everyday life becomes the market’s most valuable commodity.
Aizawl on a Saturday: When the City Becomes a Marketplace On Saturdays,
