This is the image of my first SLR -it belongs to a friend of mine. I was fiddling with it during one of those regular powercuts. It was shot in candle light.
It was my father who introduced me to photography. He was an amateur photographer and as a kid I was his reluctant muse. On holidays and weekends he would tug me and his camera along with him to interesting locations.And for the better part of the day he would be lost in framing his compositions with me in almost every frame. The process also involved drilling the nuances of the fine art of photography into me. But I was anything but interested in photography.
Mostly, I was angry and irritated at being dragged away from my friends and our weekend playtime. Dad was oblivious to it all. So much so I began to hate photography. When I was a collegian Dad wanted to gift me his precious camera with its paraphernalia of lenses, since he wasn't able to use it anymore due to his failing eyesight. But I wasn't interested.
He held on to it for a very long time hoping that I would someday make a rightful claim to his beloved camera. Finally he came to terms with the fact that his daughter was never going to be a photographer and he sold the camera to a friend. It was a sad day for him.
Years rolled by. I went on to become a newspaper editor and later a filmmaker. My life was filled with cameras, cameramen and photo shoots. But never was I ever tempted to pick up a camera myself. Life moved on. So did my father. I'm sure right until his death he was nursing a fond hope that I would pursue photography at least as a hobby.
Many months after my dad's death, out of the blue, one day I woke up with an inexplicable urge to pick up the camera and take pictures. I shrugged the feeling away. It was an alien thought to me. But the thought wouldn't shed me. The next day the urge within me grew into a monstrous desire so much so that I went to the shop and bought myself a point and shoot. And I began clicking pictures like a maniac.
Friends and family were astonished by the results and so was I. Suddenly my waking hours were filled with all things photography. I took pictures instinctively. For some strange reason I was producing images that were technically right, atleast 95% of the time and I didn't even know how or what I was doing.
And in those days photoshop did not exist in my world. I used to adjust the colors or contrast ever so slightly in microsoft picture manager. But those were some of my best shots.
I shot from dawn to dusk. Photography became an all consuming passion. It is truly strange how I feel about photography these days. Every single moment of my life is inspired by all things concerning photography. I feel it is my calling in life.
I am the happiest when I am clicking pictures - images that trigger something in my heart and in my brain. I feel at home when I am with my camera.
One day I was wondering loud: How did I become a photographer overnight. And it feels like I have been doing this all my life. It feels like this is what I was meant to do. A friend of mine who is deep into spirituality and wise about other worldly things said: It is simple, before moving on, your dad transferred his knowledge to you. That combined with your creativity is making you take the pictures that you take.
There is no way of knowing whether that is true or not, unless I cross over when my time comes. But till then, I'd like to believe it. I am sure my Dad must be smiling from where ever he is...smiling with joy.
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