Framed

what my time as a photographer brought me

I’ve been a photographer for many years. When I first started with a DSLR camera, I tried to freeze my perspective of landscapes for the most part. I was a reluctant prisoner of the human face and body in a photo; I still am. And then on my first wildlife photography trip, I saw something incredible. The leader of our small group, MV Shreeram (who has since become a dear friend) pointed to a dry leaf lying on the edge of a shallow stream. He wisely didn’t tell me what it was. I couldn’t tell what he was indicating. I lay down and scanned with my camera and then I saw it; camouflaged perfectly on that brown leaf, a tiny parcel (the size of my thumbnail) of intense beauty with rhomboid eyes!

This! A little night frog of the genus Nyctibatrachus. That changed how I look at the world and how much more I see of it. It literally opened my eyes wide. I still don’t see enough; since then, every day has a new wonder in store for me. Not always pretty either; the world is full of horrors too aside from what we inflict. But always amazing!

In my experience, most people struggle with finding even one thing that they love doing which is solely personal, just theirs. I am blessed and grateful that I have at least three: music which makes me feel things with an intensity that is excruciating, writing which is a source of unmitigated, undiluted joy always, and photography which is my meditation that calms a perennially racing and leaping mind.

Photography was never about accolades and approbation for me. It created a happy space for me with the world’s turmoil existing only as a blur at the periphery. I’m tempted by ideas and I leap at them as they flutter in my vicinity. I’ve done many things professionally and personally which have made my life extremely rich with experience and interesting. But that very same exploratory and open-minded trait also created a lot of disturbance and made mine a troubled mind. Photography brought me focus, literally and figuratively. It taught me to savour the moment. It was a balm, the best kind.

The idea of wildlife photography for many is of tigers, leopards, orcas, humpback whales; what are called charismatic creatures. I have only one small set of photos of a tiger and that too from a great distance. That sight was magic but it was incidental, not sought. I went out to look for leopards specifically after well over a decade of photography. I have nothing against these creatures; I admire them as much as I do any. That little night frog showed me a world right in front of us yet unseen by most; a world that is so much more storied. I also learnt of the many people who against incredible odds work at preserving that world. I wanted to show that because it’s not seen and appreciated anywhere near enough. Photography brought me so much to love in a world riven by hate and it brought me hope.

Photography has its rules. I’m a breaker of rules. Not compulsively however. I recognise that much of what we erect as the prisons of rules are more guided paths and that you can wander off and explore territories, possibilities outside of those. So I explore. But oddly, I have been conventional, perhaps even diffident while using my camera most of the time. But when I have let go my uncharacteristic self-wrought shackles, photography has reiterated to me and reminded me how straying from the path can be exceptionally rewarding.

This photo above breaks ‘rules’ of exposure, vast negative (empty) spaces, noise. To me, and to many people who have seen it printed and framed at our home, it looks like a painting. Others might think differently certainly. I am known to be hard on myself; it’s the best way I know to be constantly better. But this is a photo that I’ve taken that I’m proud of, that I cherish. Photography brought me a kindness and gentleness towards myself.

The nature of wildlife photography is such that it is often reactive. With observation and information, one can plan a shot but only to an extent. At the end of it, you’re usually capturing a fleeting moment. I have on occasion been impatient and irritated while shooting but that happens infrequently. Even from the beginning I have spent more time watching and observing than clicking the button. I have ‘missed’ shots deliberately but I have rarely missed a gorgeous sight. My favourite instance of that is when a number of us were photographing in Tal Chhapar (Rajasthan, India), one of whose many joys is a huge presence of raptors that migrate there in winter. While the rest of the group was on the ground clicking photos of Spiny-tailed Lizards (read: gourmet raptor meal) and an Egyptian Vulture parked on the ground, I was watching an eagle (recognised later as a Tawny Eagle when it got closer) hovering above. Its circling turned from languid to something tighter and deliberate. I knew then it was ready to make a grab. And it dropped rapidly and snatched its meal from the ground with a precision and speed that had me slack-jawed. None of the others saw that. Hopefully they learnt from that. Photography brought me patience and taught me stillness; it showed me that the reward is the experience, the entire experience and not just a frozen moment.

There’s a lot of self-acclamation in the world of photographers, perhaps more so among purveyors of wildlife camera work. We’ll do well to have this perspective in mind at all times:

As photographers we do not create the monuments, the models, the landscapes, the animals, the trees that we shoot. We, at best, present them in ways that pique people’s interest and curiosity. We are presenters, recorders, archivists, educators, and custodians and in so doing help other people discover (or rediscover) the wonders that abound here. Our focus ought to always be the subject, not us. Our craft must be fed by a fount that is rich in, among other things, humility and gratitude and not muddied by rampaging ego.

Photography reinforced humility in me. It’s not us, it’s them; in a good way.