Photofinish

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

Does anyone else remember those old cameras? The big, boxy B&W ones toted around by a friend of a friend of the family? That stranger who was always seemed to know all the Bittu’s, Baby’s, Soni’s and Monu’s? Was respectful and polite to all the Auntie’s and Unkill’s enough to blend in as part of the family? Hung around on special occasions, the big family gatherings? The eagerly awaited prints arrived weeks later, often blurry and out of focus, tut-tutted by all. The adults seemed to sport stern faces in such family photos, never cracking a smile. Headshots of individuals were often partly sideways, stiff with eyes looking slightly heavenwards with pursed lips. Apparently, those two poses were the easiest to hold for the entire duration of time it took for the film to be exposed. All our early family memories seem to be like that. That is, all except for this one uncle of mine. All his pictures were of large florid face, toothy grin, lips pulled back to expose gleaming white teeth and the upper lip adorned by a stiff and pointy ‘stache curled upwards. Colonel Thirty-two All Out Sahib is what we called him.

We had two, maybe three professional studios in my hometown in thse days. Their main business was the once-in-a-lifetime family portraits and those pre-wedding photoshoots of young ladies. I recall clearly that our family actually had to go to one such establishment called the Alpha Studios in person, dressed in our best clothes. Sadly, it appears that Alpha Studios closed years ago. I do recall that we had the family portrait done, along with a portrait of just our parents. Then us three siblings got photographed individually in various cutesy poses. What makes the occasion truly memorable is the balloonwāllā who was conveniently situated right outside the studio. The photographer suggested to my father to use balloons as props for myself and my younger sister. To our utter surprise, my father, who did not believe in such frivolous and wasteful expenditures under normal circumstances, agreed this one time. I suspect that the appearance of that vendor was not an accident and the studio and the balloonwāllā had some prior arrangements for such sessions with all clientele of Alpha Studio. Myself and my younger sis acquired a large, colorful balloon each. As we were entering the studio, my sis’s balloon somehow escaped from her hot little hands. Much to my amusement and her consternation at this unfortunate event, we all helplessly watched that balloon floating away and out of reach. The audio on that busy, chaotic street was augmented by the wailings of my younger sis.

Neither parent exercised much restraint in those days in public and all three kids got a stark and grim picture of our future selves on the spot if we did not shape up. My older sister assumed an injured air, clearly resentful at the undeserved rebuke, biding her time to exact retribution later from the youngsters once safely out of parental oversight. My younger sister was inconsolable and sobbing, tears streaking down her face smearing whatever make-up had been applied to her for the family portraits. It was then decided by the adults that the one remaining balloon in our possession, my balloon, was to be used for the pictures for my younger sister. The resulting pictures actually came out fantastic. The episode has been discussed a few times in the family lore over the last five decades. My younger sister had a beatific smile on her hastily redone make-up as evident from the pictures. I, on the other hand, have been teased unmercifully by my sisters decades later as my pictures show an unusual puffiness of my cheek clearly resembling that infernal balloon, my balloon which was not in mine but in my sister’s hand at the moment. My feelings were accurately captured by the photographer, smoldering at the injustice, anxious to regain possession of the balloon at the first opportunity, and the unconcealed hostility towards the world in general.

My burning desire to become a shutterbug was ignited with that spark. A few years later, I stumbled across the full-page Agfa Click-III ad. It was of German make and I understand, later made in India with Agfa-Gevaert collaboration. It just leaped out at me from the glossy magazine that I happened to be engrossed in. It was priced at Rs. 35 or something like that, clearly out of reach for me if memory serves me right. I pored over those ads endlessly for all the joys it could bring. I memorized all the details of Click-III in the ad - Meniscus Lens! Aim and Shoot!! Rapid Load!!! Iso-flash!!!! Flash-synchronised shutter!!!!! One ad had a sari-clad lady on one side taking a picture, with a huge headshot of a smiling, mustachioed manly man and the words I SHOT HIM in big bold print followed by ...because I loved him in smaller font. I was smitten with a camera that promised No Adjustments Needed - No chance of Mistakes. For years afterwards, on all the special occasions, the people we met and the places we visited, I would be busy figuring out the best conditions to take that special picture with my very own Click-III, the right angles, the right distances, the optimum light, etc. etc. Detached, observing, click-click-clicking away while others were interacting verbally and physically. All in my mind, alas, since I did not actually possess the camera.

How I envied the tourists who seemed to have an impressive amount of camera gear with tripods, lenses, filters, bags and a ton of other accoutrements, cracking jokes like “What is a click-click-click-BANG sound? A Japanese tourist being hit by a car!” I did not acquire a film-camera of my own until after the grad school when I had a little spare change and splurged my slender savings on a camera prior to a new car or a new bed in my first non-student slum apartment. The camera was a color camera and while the film was relatively inexpensive, the actual photo development process still took about a week and was a bit pricey. I was now a real photo-hound, taking actual pictures of Everything, Everywhere and All at Once! Color film and prints became more affordable eventually.

After a long and successful journey in an industry created by George Eastman, his namesake company had a disastrous near-collapse and had to reinvent itself painfully. Digital photography ate their proverbial lunch as all of us switched our allegiances in a flash, abandoning our picture-taking skills honed over time on film cameras. The iconic company had introduced the ubiquitous phrase “Kodak Moment” into our vocabulary, only to be abused by all Marketing types in all industries. They realized it too late that it had been replaced by "Screenshot" and abominations like "Prosumer". Pixels were nearly free, one could and take a million shots, digitally (literally using one's digits) select and edit the best and delete the rest. Quantity replaced Quality. Kodak's woes have been a subject of many Harvard Business School (BS) case-studies. It is a staple of MBA circles as a cautionary tale of the Demise of the Dinosaurs, a scary fireside story by management gurus in corporate navel gazing retreats.

Which brings me to an old problem vexing me again lately. In the old days with manual film-advancing, I would often forget to turn the crank or occasionally would not forward the film enough on that camera, getting interesting results with double-exposures and ghost images on some pictures. I ruined a lot of film in the early days experimenting until I perfected the “full-crank and about a third” for that camera to get clean, ghost-free shots. My second film-camera had an auto-advance feature that took care of that issue and I forgot all about it until recently.

Something called Selfieitis, the “I am the Main Character” psychosis, is rising to newer and higher levels at an extraordinary pace with smartphones and unsocial media. Unlike the ghost images and double exposures of yore, these days it isn’t unintentional nor self-inflicted. I am told that it is called "photo-bombing" and an invasion by idiotic influencers, pathetic pranksters, cretinous celebrities and power-hungry politicians alike. The Funny Farm also appears to have been infested by these vermin. Lately a lot of my pictures, especially selfies, are being ruined by unwanted ghosts appearing next to myself at public places like bus stands, airports and railway stations. Friends, does anyone know how to solve this, the problem of this Selfie bhoot?

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆