Photography: My beginning

During a photography workshop that I attended recently we were asked about how we started out taking pictures... What motivated us? Everybody came up with their own stories and this was mine.

While growing up I used to think that I was not as creatively blessed as my peers and my sister. I remember how whenever given a pencil and a paper I would end up making two mountains, a river flowing through them, and the sun rising/setting in between. Meanwhile my best friend could sketch almost anything, such was her imagination. And my sister? Whoaa!! She was and is a genius when it comes to sketching/painting... She does oil paintings, glass paintings, faded sketching, fabric painting... Pheww!!And it would be hard for me to even hold the brush straight. Growing up, I always thought that I had no creativity, no imagination... Until I got my first camera phone! :) It was Moto Razr with a 2 MGP camera, but the inspiration had still not hit me. It did hit me and since then I look at things more through the view finder of my camera than my eyes. :P

I still remember the date. It was August 5th 2007, friendship's day, the day when my love story began with my city, Bombay. 

I moved to Bombay in June and shifted into a shared accommodation in Thane in July. I was miserable and home sick. The only places I knew was my office and my apartment. And to top my miseries it started raining in Bombay in late July. Although I enjoyed the first few days of the rains, it soon became a nuisance. I lost 3 umbrellas in a span of one month, the numerous wet laundry, unavailability of auto-rickshaws when needed the most, my perpetually wet sandals... etc. etc. In that one month I got so fed up that I planned going to back to Delhi for good by the end of that year. But then 5th August happened. 

My friends asked me to go with them to Bandra and I agreed only reluctantly because it was about to rain and I didn't want get stuck in any unknown area. I am not sure how things are now at the Bandra fort, but at that time it was open and people would throng that place to see the beauty of the Ocean. We went to the beach and walked all the way from Mannat (Shahrukh Khan's bungalow) to the fort. It was a windy day and rains were approaching. For a girl born and brought up in Delhi, this kind of scenario is irresistibly romantic and fantastic. I was immediately taken by the beauty in the enormity of the ocean, the humongous waves, the sweet scent of the approaching rains. It was all overwhelming. Then we reached the fort. I was and am still afraid of heights, but that day I climbed up to the top of the fort. It was just ocean until where I could see, we were surrounded by it. The waves were beating around the walls of the fort as if an angry beast was trying to knock it down. I saw beauty that day, unparalleled, inexplicable. Beyond words. That day I found inspiration to freeze that moment in time and in memory, so that I never forget that I was there. I was motivated to finally take out my phone camera and take pictures. :) And from that moment on I have been lucky enough to find such inspirations in almost everything, every person around me.

For me photography has been a way of expressing my own type of creativity. When I started taking pictures I started off with a 2 MGP phone camera then progressed to a 5 MGP phone camera, then came my Sony cybershot & then 12 MGP Fujifilm and now very recently Canon 650D. So, in the beginning I had to kind of start learning about post processing softwares and using them because a lot of times the pictures would come out a little below my expectations and these softwares would help me reach the favorable results. I still use these softwares as I can put a fun spin on my pictures. :)

According to me, to be a good photographer a person should be capable of seeing and appreciating the beauty in the most ordinary things around them before they even start holding a camera. Also, photography for me is one of the most selfless professions. Trust me it takes a lot to stay behind the camera when the rest of your family is posing in front of it. Moreover when people complain about and criticize your picture you have to maintain your calm. And when people share around the pictures you have taken by spending so much time and effort, without even giving proper credits, you feel all the more frustrated. So, yes it is not everybody's cup of tea. I believe and I know that not everyone can master this art. It needs a lot of time and patience. And I know I have a long way to go and that I am an amateur.

Since I started taking pictures I have observed that the following qualities are essential for anybody to become a good photographer:

 - passion about the art not just the craft
 - a lot of research, a lot of reading, a lot of practice

 - motivation and drive to go through anything to get that one great shot

 - dedication and a lot of commitment towards the art

 - patience, a lot of it!!

 - selflessness and absolutely no ego

 - most importantly, you need the eye, to see and reflexes to freeze :)

I think the following quote by Ansel Adams says it all for me:

“A great photograph is a full expression of what one feels about what is being photographed in the deepest sense and is thereby a true expression of what one feels about life in its entirety.” 

The eyes that haunt me...

I have this habit of analyzing everything and every person around me. This habit has got me into trouble multiple times and has sometimes got me out of them too. It is a part of my character, my personality, so I can't help but live with it. This bit that I am going to share is from a memory that still haunts me even after almost 12 years... I am sure that I over analyzed this situation too and created a story by myself around this one character that I saw for merely 10 minutes. Yet unfortunately I know it must have been true.

In 2002 I had just finished school and was studying to take engineering entrance examinations. I had joined this study institute in south-west Delhi, and I used to take a DTC bus every day to get there. 

One of these days, I took a bus to go to my classes. I still remember I used to pay a mere Rs. 2 to get to my bus stop. It was a short ride, but I had just started taking the bus alone and by myself so I used to enjoy every moment of it. On this day, I was sitting right near the exit door of the bus so that I could get down as soon as my stop came. I saw this little boy climbing on to the bus. He must have been be around 7 or 8 years old, in a blue shirt and grey shorts, of fair complexion, a handsome diamond shaped face, with beautiful milky grey eyes. When I first saw him I expected a parent or a guardian or somebody older to him to have accompanied him on to the bus because you never expect such a small kid to ride a bus alone. Then I started paying attention to his complete appearance. The shirt and shorts were dirty, he had no shoes on and was smelling of urine. He stood near the door for a minute and then started to make his way through the bus, asking for alms. Some people gave him a rupee, some people avoided eye contact, some shooed him away, but he relentlessly asked each and every person and then went back to the door of the bus. He stood there holding onto the pole, looking at the passengers, through his transparent, beautiful grey eyes, full of cynicism instead of innocence, full of ridicule instead of playfulness, full of a cold stone like quality instead of the warmth of a childhood. 

He got off the bus when it slowed down at a traffic signal. I just sat there, stunned by the horrific reality of that sight. I was 17 years old. I had just finished school. My life and my world until that point in time revolved mostly around my school, my family and my home. I used to have problems related to my studies, my friends or my family or my teachers. That day, in those few minutes I realized that I had just seen something that was beyond anything I might have gone through personally.

A little boy who must have been from a good family, pampered by his parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts. A little boy who probably must have been on a vacation, or playing in a playground with his little friends, or coming back or going to school. A little boy who must have had a good future to look forward to. This little boy, who must have been snatched away from his family, his friends, his future, his childhood. This little boy who must have been lost and scared for such a long time, must have looked for his parents in so many buses he must have boarded, must have asked strangers if they knew his parents. This little boy who was abandoned by the society, today had abandoned the society itself. This little boy had given up the hope to ever find the ones who had once fed him, bathed him, sung lullaby to him, protected him. 

I still remember him because after that one day, I saw him everywhere, at the traffic signals, on buses and trains. The numerous children that I would see, begging for alms, touching feet of strangers, sometimes carrying infants, I would worry for them at night, not being able to go to sleep. The guilt of not being to help them in any way weighing down on me. But I am stuck in my own troubles, my own miseries. How will I ever be able to do anything to end this plague? That day I saw him alight from the bus and walk away, disappearing into the crowd. But I never forgot those eyes. I will never forget that boy. And he will forever haunt me.

 Note: According to a shocking data published by the UN office on drugs and crimes (UNODC) on human trafficking, the most common form of human trafficking (79%) is sexual exploitation. 

The second most common form of human trafficking is forced labour (18%), although this may be a misrepresentation because forced labour is less frequently detected and reported than trafficking for sexual exploitation.

Worldwide, almost 20% of all trafficking victims are children. However, in some parts of Africa and the Mekong region, children are the majority (up to 100% in parts of West Africa). 

While the above was a Global report, according to Wikipedia there is no reliable way of specifying these numbers in India. But according to some NGO's around 20 million to 65 million people in our country are effected by flesh trade. According to CRY 11.8% children in India are engaged in some form of child labour (National Family Health Survey III - NFHS).