JOIN USThe modern world sees and hears a lot about selfies, almost always for wrong reasons, like selfie-takers meeting their tragic ends while being engrossed in getting the right angle, oblivious of their surroundings.
All this talk about selfies takes me back to those days when taking pictures was not so casual. While photos were indispensable parts of events, photography was, by and large, a means of livelihood for many or a costly hobby.
Even a small town like ours could boast of at least a couple of photo studios, all doing equally brisk business. Thus, we had one studio famous for marriage proposal pictures, another known for convocation photos and another for official purpose photos.
A table with a humble pile of books flanked by a flower vase with a painted or plain screen behind formed the stereotype ambience near which the photographed was made to sit or stand. A comb, a tin of talcum powder and even a necktie a roll of paper representing a degree certificate, a convocation gown and cap were always at the disposal of the one to be photographed.
The photographer behind the tripod-like camera covering himself and the camera with a dark cloth, emerging out of it now and then to straighten a pleat on the dress of the one to be photographed or to smoothen an unruly wisp of hair and disappearing behind the camera was a common sight. Later, it was the times of lights and flashes.
A couple heading to the studio a few days after marriage with the bride dressed in all her finery and the groom donning an overcoat and tie for the photos was almost a ritual. I remember an uncle of mine, who had such photos of his various nephews and nieces in his drawing room, eagerly awaited mine, his youngest niece.
Photos were decorative pieces in most homes. Enlarged pictures of one's ancestors lining the walls spoke proudly of one's family tree. Later, photo frames with stands that could be rested on table tops and showcases became popular.
Later, colour photos replaced the black and whites, and photos got secured in albums for occasional viewing. Yet all these changes have not brought down the Indian family's love for the images of its beloved.
Recently, a visit to a monument in Kerala found me browsing through many shops. The shops were selling, among other things, black and white photos of ancestors.
Men draped in mundus and shawls were wearing turbans, hats and caps. Women wearing ornate ornaments flanked the men. The audacity of the descendants who could not spare their memories a nook in their houses or an album shook my conscience.