Didn’t know what it was,what it intended to create. I had seen many pictures-sketched, embedded or sculptured as a piece of stone art. But when I saw the first photograph, a black & white one, from the eighty’s , it was amazing. How easily one grabs the emotions and smiles into something real & proven! But, every photograph may not guarantee the true notion. Some may have been forced while some unintentional.
Yeah, the first photograph had instilled in me, the urge. Since then, my passion had always been clicking and breathing photography. Definitely, I won’t be arguing with anyone, of whether I am the best one in the lot, but I am confident of making it satisfactory for my clients. Right , from that day, I have been seeing, experimenting, and grilling my camera-handling skills. Now, I am forty-five, yet I still, don’t call myself a perfectionist. For one, perfection maybe the river-bed , while the snowy peaks could be the limit for another. So, in my eyes I have been my own contender, who has no such limits.
Right now, I have my own small studio, just fitting the two of us-me and a small kid who acts pretty well as my assistant. It hasn’t been long since I lost my home in the year-ending floods, which plundered all our belongings.I was on the very cutting edge , discovering myself and getting different roles and offers . My sweet little daughter had just started walking through the unending desert of knowledge. My wife, too was able to console herself, living with wide gasp of smile , after her past life had betrayed her throughout. But who knew , that our destiny would simply wipe us out from achieving something respectable.
I gathered no idea of the flood , wrecking havoc in my hometown, since I wasn’t in the city. By the time I reached my home, after a long hectic schedule, I couldn’t find any home left. Whatever I had, was million ounces of water , and the woeful echoes of people alongside. Some had lost their parents, to siblings, to being a widow and so on. The wrath had been so devastating that it looked like , there was no existence of mankind anywhere. All our houses, had been washed away. But I was late. I was late enough to see my family alive. Broken & battered , I was lost in the life’s most fearful dilemma.
With days, weeks and months passing by, I couldn’t saturate my grief and neither could I do it throughout my life. Yet life didn’t wait for me. After getting to know, the last few glimpses of this tragedy from a close-by friend, I had nothing left inside me- except repentance. Its been two decades, since I lost my “ones”- the only ones I had. Time has leaped. I have been clicking till now-faces happy, glee , tempting or dull. I received much appreciation for whatever I did.Though , there were no cease on criticisms as well.
But something keeps me peaceful amidst all the rush.
Every night, I look at that last family photograph, clicked years ago. I talk, smile , convey my applauses and experiences of the day to my beloved ones, up there .
For someone like me, who’s always captured and still going on clicking people , with wide jaws and cute smiles , my life has been a damn living-oxymoron.
“A bit closer,… yeah , all good, …..okay ,so smile please….!!!!!”