BURMA CIGARS (PoTD)

PHOTO OF THE DAY #2 BURMA CIGARS

Inside a dim, wooden hall in rural Myanmar, time seems to move slower. Women sit in quiet concentration, their hands performing the same gestures repeated countless times — filling, rolling, and tying cigars with a precision born of habit rather than haste. The air is thick with the scent of tobacco leaves, yet there’s a calm rhythm to the place, almost meditative.

Each woman has her own small world: a bundle of leaves, a handful of tools, a few colored papers stacked neatly like offerings to patience. Their faces, marked by thanaka — the pale cosmetic paste that softens the tropical heat — carry an expression of endurance and grace.

In this room, productivity and dignity coexist in silence. There are no machines, no digital clocks, no rush — only the sound of hands shaping smoke for someone else’s pause. It’s a scene that belongs to another era, and perhaps, that’s precisely what makes it so powerful.

I was on my way to visit a temple a few hours’ drive from Yangon when my local fixer suggested a quick stop to buy cigars. Stepping into that silent room, with the morning light streaming softly through the windows, I found myself suspended in a moment of pure stillness — one of the most magical experiences of my life in Asia.