A whimper, was it!

That may be a worst day of my life. As I stood there with a very disturbed mind ( I do not know for what!), I heard a whimpering sound nearby. It was so feeble that I could hardly hear it. Then I saw a little baby girl of about two years lying a yard beyond. She looked like a piece of burned wood. I went near.  She was lying kneeling on to the ground. During the struggle and fight for food she might have accidentally fell out from her mother's hands. She was crying in anguish, as she was not able to get up and walk to the group.

A 'winning' flash-that was the first to pass through my mind. I aimed my camera at her. For a second I stood motionless as a big vulture flew down and sat beside the baby. The bird was obviously looking for a dead body. The baby it seemed , still had life remaining in her. I took several snaps of the baby and the beast. I waited... waited  and waited for the bird to spread its wings and approach the baby. I thought such a snap would be a most embarrassing and highly appreciated one. But to my misfortune the bird did not spread wings. After waiting some more minutes I drove away the bird and left the scene.

By the time our plane was about to take off. I bordered. Silvia came running from somewhere and she also got into. The next day of reaching the capital I posted the picture to the 'New York Times'.

Till that time I had a winner's mind, that I had captured an exceptional situation in my camera. Only later on I began to think about the plight of the poor child.

Whether she survived or some beasts had taken out her tender life?

Was her mother able to locate her? Is she a cursed creation of Almighty? No... Jesus loves all His creations, that's what I know. Then how only some people become like this? As more thoughts overpowered my mind I felt my eyes filling and tears flowing out.

Public Response

                      The controversial photograph taken by carter

The photo was published 'New York Times' on 26 March, 1993. The response of the people was overwhelming. Most of them were accusing me for not saving the dying child. Even some of my best friends accused me for the same reason. The responses greatly pained my already wounded heart.

"The Man adjusting his lens to take just the right frame of her suffering must just as well be a predator, another vulture on the scene", comments went on like this.

This and other such comments, directly thrown on my face, made me very restless and depressed. My  daughter Megan tried to console me as much as she could. But I was sinking into deep anguish.

As a photographer I had covered several violent incidents of apartheid in the past. Street fights, shooting, man slaughters, execution, carnages all I had covered with my camera. But never before had I felt such anguish as I feel now. Never had I seen such wrath of public.

"Yes I am a sinner. Oh..Jesus, I am  a sinner. Don't forgive me for what I had done".

"Megan.....Megan".  I shouted in agony. She came out running. In a frenzy. I embraced her and showered kisses on her fore-head. 'You always be with Papa....never leave Papa alone....would you, as your Mama did once.' The child stood in aghast, her eyes filling!

Farewell To All

I felt haunted by vivid memories of fights, killings, corpses, ghosts, anger, pain and miseries. An unknown fear was suffocating all my senses. People whom I borrowed money were coming to shoot me. I ran through the sand , my feeble voice shouting, don't shoot me please... don't. I am......I.....am pauper. Please give me some more time. I have nothing with me. But they were running after me, this time they won't spare me.  

A heavy lash of the cold sea-wind awoke me from the frightful fairies. I was lying on the beach, for how long, I don't know.  I was fatally tired and exhausted, partly from intoxication. Sea was raging unusually and it was a bad omen. I got up. My anxiety is only Megan, my daughter. She is only seven years old. Who is going to protect her?

 But nothing worries me now.. nothing, I am going.....I am free to go!!

Everything is going to end. A sigh of relief came to me.

The sea was raging
Winds fiery, tides rose to the height of the slum huts,
rolled over into huge flakes, gushed in to gulp the shore
I stood there gazing, as a dirty rag of sinful life.
To throw myself into the waves I longed, and disappear
Into the unfathomable depths of darkness.
Be that the end of all.......of all human wickedness.


I moved on with unsteady steps, muttering something
waves had already started to cover me up, brazing up
My entire body,

'Take me in....to that nasty, rotten hell of yours'..I cried out,
But voice seldom came out through the blocked pipes.

Oh..who's that strangles me, the bluish bands of water, or
like a floral rope, darling your tiny dark hands,
stick on to me babe, to Papa's bosom
Till the end of our journey, till we find 'Rest' in our Father's Laps.

Forgive me good friends, Megan....all of you...farewell to all.

My Photos

I am not an expert in photography. Of the pictures shown here only a few are taken by me.