Need thinking photographers

If is often said that photography has nothing to do with cameras or lenses. It has more to do with the photographers’ visions. And I am sorry to say very few in this country who handles cameras have brains. And if you ask me whether Gujarat has any, my answer is a strict no.
How can you get a good news photograph when all sundries enter this field wielding a toy called camera. Since digital cameras cost nothing and there is hardly any recurring costs, people from all walks of life have entered into this profession. Imagine an agency like UNI converting their mechanical operators, technicians, peons to photographers. Some photographers came to this profession from teaching, sales and marketing and to top it all even some elevator operators are also in the fray.

What many doesn’t understand is that news photography has no connection to product photography or wedding shots or any other areas of photography. A news photograph should be equivalent to a thousand words. But captions in the photographs of the vernacular dailies in Gujarat are bigger than the longest story they carry. People are not interested to read a long and boring story behind that photograph. If the photograph cannot express itself, that is not a news photograph.

Narendra Modi, Gujarat’s chief minister convened a get together for journalists yesterday followed by lunch. It is just a cosmetic meeting where jokes are cracked and greetings exchanged. Today as I browsed through at least 17 local newspapers in Ahmedabad, I saw one single shot of the CM holding a camera and aiming, published in all the newspapers. It was carried by PTI, UNI, Reuters and all the agencies and so this photograph went all across the world. Not that every photograph was same but like a flock of sheep, all the photographers took one angle and not even one person applied their brain in taking a different angle. So much for the people responsible for publishing those photographs.

What is news photography after all? All compelling photographs that tells a contemporary story through compelling angles and picture selection is a news photograph. It is all about imagination. Many believe it is technology but it is not. You can take a good photograph even with your Rs 550 camera. Yes, it has to do with being in the right place at the right time. It is a situational advantage that makes a good photograph. But converting an average situation into an advantage is the skill of a photographer. Just take a look the award winning photographs below which I downloaded from www.southernshortcourse.com

Face of Malaria
Stricken with malaria and near death, a young Rwandan
girl lays on a cot at a clinic in Gisenyi waiting in vain for treatment.

Any other photographer here would have taken a picture of a general ward of the hospital saying there is a heavy rush of people because of the outbreak of a disease



Tearful Departure
photo by Andrew Craft, The Fayetteville Observer - Fayetteville, NC
Capt. Shelia Jenkins comforts her daughter, Khadyajah, 7, while holding the hand of her husband, Chief Warrant Officer Claude Jenkins, as he departs on a bus to his flight to Iraq, August 23, 2006. Jenkins is part of the 82nd Airborne Division Sustainment Brigade that is deploying to Iraq.

Here we would have a bus or a convoy of vehicles on the road with a long caption explaining who is who in the vehicles

Gathering Rain
photo by James H. Kenney Jr., Western Kentucky University - Bowling Green, KY
Since water is not readily available at Evangel Hospital, in Jos, Nigeria, some of the women staying there take advantage of the rainfall to collect water.

Oh, any one can guess what the situation would be. A flooded road or a wet person in a two wheeler

They are simple but very effective.
Can we have some thinking photographers here please?

Airline rates are full of air, bubble

A bubble always bursts and that is what is witnessing in the aviation tickets in India. The bubble is gone and people are returning to old ways of Indian Railways. But what is not palpable is the cheating process the airlines adopt to woo the vulnerable customers. But to my surprise, I found India is not the cheating capital of the world. In fact it is the European Union where a study by European Commission has found excess charging, failure to show taxes and other charges in the original fare etc. The difference between the Indian government and the European Union is that the latter could force offending websites to close next year if they fail to improve.
Try an airline search and find out why taxes are three times the airline fare? Can it be true to be believed? If yes, why should the airlines operate for such a small amount? Take the case of the figure mentioned here. If an Airbus A 320 or Boeing 737 can carry on an average 150 passengers and given the fact that there is 80% occupancy, the total amount that the airlines earns for a flight from Ahmedabad to Goa with a change over in Mumbai is Rs 1,70,000. With four landings and four take offs and a host of other charges, is this a viable option? If it is true, then why is that the taxes are not bifurcated? Why is that taxes differ from airline to airline?
A classic case of how British Airways made a mockery of their promotional schemes can be read in my earlier entry. Read it here

Charity without clarity

I always wondered why people ill-treated the so called low caste strata of the society. I could not get answers to hundred of millions of money spent on fireworks that lasts just seconds while a large majority of people in and around starve. I also couldn’t fathom the large invites sent to all sundries even by not so rich people for their children’s wedding. All these money could have been used to fund some one’s education, some one’s starvation and someone’s upliftment. I would have left wandering to find the answers to these silly questions had I not found answers the other day.

In my neighborhood itself, the residents would shout at the sweepers, who belong to the Bhangi community, one of the lowest among the lowest strata. It is interesting to note here that there are upper and lower castes among the lower castes itself. Vankars in Gujarat would not allow a Chamar to enter their house or touch their utensils. Being a person who extensively covered social issues, I had strict instructions to my family members to treat them at par with any human. In fact I would also advise some of my neighbors to give some respect to these people. None of them would allow them enter their house, leave alone touch them. By evening they would come to collect the leftovers. I was against giving these leftovers and so refused to part with them even if I had to force the dogs to finish it. I continue to believe that self respect is something that you cannot buy. It has to come from your actions, deeds and your way of thinking.

So one day I risked myself to ask the guy to stop the begging so that people look at him in a respectful way. He gave me a hard look and then without uttering a word, went down. Called for the lift from the third floor to reach down. He again looked up and disappeared leaving me in disappointment and gasping for answers whether I have asked something impossible or if I have hurt the sentiments of the guy. My friend who was standing nearby said I could even face a jail term for insulting him. “There is a provision that if he complains that you have insulted his caste, there is a non bailable warrant against you the next moment,” he left me speechless.

Not that I never knew these rules but I was left recollecting and noting down what exact conversation took place between us. I was left counting at the number of organizations working for the so called welfare of this strata of the society and none of them could stop this bad practice of collecting left overs. I am told that these left overs are sold to the cattle herders at a premium and very few use this as their supper. The sweeper at my apartment consists of the entire family. By 10 in the morning, the work is finished and they would sit idle till noon in some corner before leaving home. When I changed my old car to a new shining one, I thought of giving some income to the teenaged boy during this time and asked him whether he attends school. He told me his school ended forever when he was in 3rd standard and that is a long 7 to 8 years back. I offered him a sponsorship of fee, books and uniform for the rest of his schooling life if he attends the school. In return, he just need to wash my car every morning. He flatly refused saying he need to earn money instead of attending school. “Yes, I understand. I am giving you this soft work so that you don’t feel I am doing a charity on you,” I told him in my chaste Gujarati. Over and above the school expenditure, I offered to pay him Rs 200 per month. He even refused that and told me plainly that he would prefer cleaning toilets and take up a broom than doing any other work. I wasted a cool hour and a half trying to convince him and take him beyond his family occupation of cleaning toilets but to no avail.

That was two years ago. Early this year, his sister was getting married and they came up with a letter from the chairman of the society asking for financial help to each and every resident of the society. Very few helped and those who helped gave them the traditional Rs 11. My neighbours gave them Rs 5 each. I gave them Rs 101 and wished them luck. Also promised to give some cloths as soon as I get time to dig out my storage. During these times, the complaints that the residents had about them never ended. Our neighbours reprimanded us of why we are so soft towards them. But we had no complaints against them. ‘No, these people deserve worst treatment, my dear,” said one of them. “Otherwise, they will start ruling you.” Silly, we just brushed it off.

The girl returned after marriage. Her husband also worked as a sweeper in some society around us. We asked, to our neighbour’s discomfort, if the marriage went well. My wife reminded her that the old clothes promised are on its way any time. We were cleaning the house and so we next day we had double the normal garbage but only one fourth of the average daily dumping our neighbours usually have. We found that except our garbage, all the garbages were cleaned by this newly wed bride. We thought she had missed us this time. Next day when asked, she flatly refused to take the garbage saying she will not touch it because it was too heavy. Have to pay extra bucks to carry it. My wife was not surprised but I was. She just called me in asking if I need any more live examples of these people behaving with people who show them respect. “It is just an odd case dear,” I refused to endorse her. Days and weeks after that, she just refuses to touch our garbage and this time the excuse is we have not paid her boni – the bonus during Diwali that she thinks is her right to demand for. Should I pay it or risk being a courier guy to the garbage? I will have to take a decision this weekend. In the meanwhile, please continue your fireworks and big parties since you may also have faced a similar situation. But wait. Given a chance, I would always go back and think the same way I thought at the beginning. After all there is always the other side of the story.

Loo liberates you, literally

Loo is not a common phrase in India. It is a common problem instead. It is shared by millions. No, not the loo but the problem. The United Nations estimates 2.6 billion people are without it and India's Rural Development Minister Raghuvansh Prasad Singh is investing $A3.79 billion in sanitation projects. I had the opportunity to do a number of features both print and audio on sanitation for various agencies I worked for. Fortunately none of the agencies were Indian because a problem in India is a problem for foreigners and not for Indians. The Gujarat sectarian riots of 2002 are not a problem for any one in Gujarat. It is a problem for people outside Gujarat. People across the world expressed remorse at this unfortunate happening, no body in Gujarat even bothered to look into it. No wonder these happenings makes interesting news for non-Indians.
During my early days of reporting, the state transport buses were the best way to reach wherever you need to reach. Undoubtedly, it still maintains that credo. To reach to the remote rural areas, these buses were my companions. I would take an overnight state transport bus so that I can avoid a nights stay in a hotel, would do the same that evening so that my two nights are in moving vehicles. In case of any delays, railway platforms acted as my suite. The benches and dogs were my companions in smaller stations. In stations like Mumbai, the local constables always would come and wake you up. But they avoid well dressed people. I enjoyed doing all these adventures. What I never enjoyed is getting a decent loo. My morning is incomplete without spending at least two English newspapers on a toilet seat. I don’t have that luxury in remote locations so I had no option but to approach toilets run by institutions like Sulabh International. I don’t know why they suffix international to their name but their approach was too local. Normally I would wait till the morning rush is over. But that never happens in a place like Mumbai and so I join the queue. I have a brief case with me and the toilet seat is Indian while I don’t have a newspaper to read. Your turn comes and you get in. You try to get a dry place to put your luggage and lo behold, the first knock comes from out side. Chalo Niklo, the guy with a stick outside would order. Hey, I haven’t even thought of even anything closer to loo and if you ask me to get out, what the hell I was standing for an hour’s queue. His problem is that there is another set of people waiting to get in. And as you touch your trouser zip, the second knock comes. Chalo Jaldi Niklo. I would not care. Instead I was treated with beats better than Jhankar beats. I would close my eyes and enjoy it as much as the audience enjoys in percussionist Sivamani’s drumbeats.I am happy to know that participants from 44 countries are grappling with health and sanitation issues and worse that I face in public places in a World Toilet Summit held recently in New Delhi. Sanitation problem endangers almost one-third of the world's people. I am also delighted that the top boss of the guy who used to order me, Chalo Niklo, founder of Sulabh International, Bindeshwar Pathak, opened the meeting by calling for a war footing in the effort to meet 2002 Millennium Development Goals. How far this is possible is a matter of debate.
It was one of the sanitation stories that I, along with a journo friend of mine, approached Mr Ishwarbhai Patel, Director, Safai Vidyalaya (The Environmental Sanitation Institute) in Ahmedabad. He takes pride in people calling him Mr Toilet. In the long conversation I had with him, a lot of information flowed. Interesting among them was his explanation about a design he has developed for rural folks. He explained in details how a person would defecate, the route on which the shit would flow and where it will reach. I was listening this with great eager and a little bit of bitterness. But his enthusiasm explaining this was more overflowing than the agony faced by the person early in the morning in any Indian village or a slum with a bottle of water in his hand. But before we began this, he had called up his peon and whispered him to bring something for us. We thought it would either be tea or coffee. In the middle of his explaining the road map from defecation process to destroyal, the peon came up with a tray. There were three ice cream scoops. We had great difficulty to even accept it not because we have diabetes but the colour was yellow. He continued to explain us how a person generates on average 400 grams of feces and 1.3 kilograms of urine daily. He then forced us to finish the ice cream before it melts. His story continued for another hour but we finished our ice cream within a minute.

My Fan Club is increasing. Part I

My fan club keeps on increasing. It has reached such a level that many folks close to me have stopped talking to me.

Yes I am talking about people who ‘fan’ me out because they don’t like me. They don’t like my face, my figure, my colour, my wardrobes, my shoes, what I do, what I write, what I talk and the list is endless. I can understand about my face, colour and figure because that is what I don’t really take pride in. My cholesterol level index is competing with Mumbai Sensex. An hour of evening walk has not done any wonder for me because I always skip this with one or the other reason. I started yoga but I have found out many excuses to excuse myself from such an important and easy life saving mechanism. I can also understand about my wardrobes because many of my trousers and shirts are pre-earthquake and pre-Gujarat riots era clothes. They are nostalgic for me because they saved me from many blushes with death, rioters and accidents. But it remains with me for reasons beyond that. These are the clothes which we left behind when we ran for life from the trembling buildings that we lived.
Bata, Lee Cooper, Ambassador, Nike, Adidas, Crockett and Jones, Oxfords, Monk style, Loafers, Hush Puppies, Edward Green. Nope. these are not the brands that I wear. I have a pair of shoes that I have bought for Rs 500 which is still loyal to me in terms of its stitch and sole. Now comes the profession that I am in, Journalism. I have never been able to get out of my journalism kindergarten since the last fifteen years because talent is something that I lack. I compensate that by talking too much. Many of my fans just hate me for this talk. My language is very poor and so neither can I write nor can I speak any language like ‘a knife on butter’. This is primarily because I have grown up with many languages surrounding me. Malayalam, Bengali, Hindi, Gujarati, Marathi, Sindhi and English. Fortunately I don’t understand a word of any other south Indian languages than Malayalam. So which one to master on? I could not understand this and in trying to get a grip of which language I should master on, I grew up and it was time to choose a profession. Since I barely managed to get the passing marks in my tenth, twelfth and graduation, I could not follow my friends who managed to squeeze into MBA and MCA. I was left with gasping for something to do when I was in the third year of my college. So I tried following every Malayalee on the street. That was I how appeared for Staff Selection Commission examination and to my surprise, I managed to pass. I thought I was the cleverest person in the horizon because I could pass a general aptitude test, albeit of a lower intensity.
But once in a government job, I realized that every Tom Dick and Harry was getting through this examination and faster and swifter to better position that what I am. I was again grounded. But I managed to get many fans in the government building where I worked. They still remember and ‘adore’ me. But I decided to leave the organization and follow my passion of getting into a profession that I always dreamt of. But the problem was that I could not write, my English was not upto the mark and the editors to whom I mailed my stories still rue editing my stories. But I managed to get into this profession by hook or crook but never on an employee basis. The reason was that I could not pass a single test that these main stream newspapers put on me. So much so that one of the newspapers refused to part with me the answer sheet saying it is too much a crap to even look at it or waste time discussing it. They gave my to correct some two hundred spellings. Since I use MS Word Spellcheck, I failed miserably. So I was back to the freelance work. Being in freelance job, you report to so many people that you lose count of how many organizations you worked for. In each organization, my fans got multiplied. Many of my fans believe I act as if I know every thing. Many among these say please stop this ‘I-know-it-all-attitude’. While I was taking a walk this evening, I thought I should reflect on this alleged ‘I-know-it-all-attitude’ of mine. Whether I am seriously showing this or is it because of my habit to raise rebellion in all the places where I worked?(a sort of Indian leftist party attitude) Is it because I always tried to reach that extra mile – even at the cost of antagonizing some close people? Or is it because I really have this ‘I-know-it-all-attitude’? I took a brisk walk and contemplated on what could be the reason.
Will post that in the next posting.