As a child I often used to wonder at the rays of the sunlight, especially in the morning and long Indian dusks. In order to savour this I had a special place for light observation: an old half-decapitated structure of an old school, made by the British. My father had rented the whole school to use it as a warehouse and used some of the rooms for the workers to stay in.
In many silent evenings, sitting in that structure, I felt immense profound silence: the smell of weathering wooden pillars, the few remains of brass metal handle doors, the iron rods of the window. I often stayed in hours of silence. In the morning and evening, particularly, I loved to be there as the whole structure - which was whitewashed decades ago, turning a bit yellow with age - used to illuminate, as if something living within those layers of fading whitewash was exhaling breaths of gold. I felt as if god is speaking to me in those moments, and in that the first inspiration of capturing the real magic of life got awoken in me.
Often I used to carry my elder brother's camera when I came to know that one can capture life in it - many times without knowing that there is no film in it. But the images were captured anyway and still live in me. Without film, I learned framing, and what remained in my memory is that beauty: of life, light, the elements, all writing poetry in deep embrace with each other.
Sometimes, when the workers were out in the fields, I would remain in the silence of that wooden and clay two-storey structure, and there I used to play. I would gather all my local friends, us children aged all of six and seven, whoever was available. I would ask them to stand for me; I did not know then that I was looking for models. I would pose them around the dilapidated school, particularly near the windows so I could see their forms in the light falling on them through the windows. It was one such incident which caused all the parents to come to my house complaining: a small colony of scandalized adults appearing on my father’s doorstep. The nature of their scandal over a bunch of six year olds innocent play is a story better told in person. You are free to ask me over a chai.
Nonetheless, it was this that led my father to offer to get models for me, and which led me down the path of self-taught aesthetics and photography in which you find me now.
What keeps me flowing still? The enigma of Photography for me is the unknown spaces while photographing, the silence, the beauty, and the very presence of another person: someone sharing themselves, the moments in their life, their tenderness, their sensuality, their wildness and craziness, and my passion to capture the phenomenon of that human in a human body.