To all my photographer friends

                                          My flowers and tears 

To All my friends

This is a personal narration of the very sad life story of the South African photojournalist Kevin Carter, who took the iconic, haunting photograph of a South Sudanese baby girl, on the brink of death, kneeling on the ground barely able to get up, in front of a vulture.The plight of the poor child typically epitomizes the poverty and inhuman hazards, the Sudanese people tide over. 

The photograph aroused the hypocritical feelings of numerous puritans across the world. They cursed, abused and harassed Carter in harshest words, as much as they could. Though this photograph won the Pulitzer Prize for the year 1994, Carter could not escape the remorse of his mind, mainly inflicted by the world-wide accusations darted against him. He committed suicide, 3 months after winning the prize. 

This blog is a floral tribute to that young, unknown photographer friend.

I have adopted the way as Kevin Carter himself narrating the cursed incidents that resulted in his permanent, premature exit from the world. As it is my fictitious imagination, it is more or less necessary to add  factual twists at some places. I plead to all friends, who knew Carter personally and who go through this blog, to kindly excuse me for this.

In the final part, I appear as myself. Here I have tried to express my views, on his sad demise.

Take it as it comes

Yes........ That's life. One cannot predict what will happen the next moment. All my life's incidents happened starkly unexpected and I think , the same will be true of anybody else. I never think that life can be planned, as a film director plans the scenes in his movie. I have watched some stupid 'Ads' in news papers and media telling:

'Plan Your Life Today. Invest your money with us and be the King of Tomorrow'

Who are they to plan peoples' lives? Who can say tomorrow one can't be a beggar even after making fabulous investments?

Life's ways are most uncertain. we are, while we live, frantically moving inside a labyrinth of miseries hoping that one day or other we will be able to come out.


All these things I started thinking in my true sense, before I fell into the deep pit of depression, in the intoxication of drugs and liquor, before life was skipping out of my control.

Penniless

I was working with the 'Weekly Mail' for some months in 1993, as a freelancer. I can openly say that we photographers are the least paid community when compared to the other press personal.

I was running short of money, a situation I have faced a lot of times in my life. Such times I become utterly restless and dulled. Frequent borrowings of money in the past, had made me severe my links with some of my good friends.  It was not for them to blame, but I myself. What Shakespeare  said once is an absolute truth.

"Neither a borrower or a lender be"

The journey to Sudan was an abruptly arranged one.I had again to borrow funds from some of my colleagues.

One of our regional proverbs---A man who has no money to meet his and his families' basic needs, is equal to a dead corpse.

A Cursed journey

Our journey was in an Helicopter for the mission named 'Operation life-line Sudan' carrying food materials for the poverty-stricken Sudanese people. I was accompanied by Joao Silvia, a Portuguese freelancer. By 3.03 our copter touched the barren lands of a village called Ayod. It was like a vast strip of desert where we landed, with sandy red soil and spiny cactus trees here and there.Not a living soul was seen anywhere. We all got out from the Helicopter. After waiting for a few minutes, Silvia muttered a curse and went over to somewhere. I stood near the copter wondering what to do next. As I explored the land walking a few steps ahead, I saw  steep rocky slopes at one side.

                                        The dry terrains of Sudan

I felt boring as I stood there in the scorching heat. I was looking in vain for something beautiful to feed my camera. All of a sudden I heard a great commotion mixed up with loud blabbing of women and cries of children. A group was racing towards the plane emerging from the crevices of rocks underneath. It seemed that they had understood their food had arrived. All of them where just 'outlines' of people, skinny, dark and emaciated. In the hot sun they appeared like ghosts. There were very few men among them. Most ladies were holding hands of their kids.The children looked evidently undernourished with bulged bellies and exposed chest bones as if that can be easily picked out. I took 2-3 snaps of them and moved on.

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.

Photography

Photography, as we all know, is also a form of traditional (conventional) arts like painting, sculpturing, singing etc., just to name a few. But it differs from other arts in one main aspect. While in all others the creation comes out mainly from the artist’s imagination, in photography the target is the real material that the photographer sees before him. The manner how well he reproduces it depends on several things as his ability, natural flair (imagination) and adeptness in using his instrument. 

The same photographer giving us the beautiful face of a smiling flower gives us the pathetic face of a dying old man in the street. That is only a part of his duty. His duty is his way of sustenance.

Here what Kevin Carter did is only his duty. He cannot be blamed for that. It is in fact good that he has shown us one of the hauntingly darker sides of human existence. In course of time, we may expect and hope, that a creation in the form of a human may come to give light to this part of the world. That's all decided by the Almighty.We have seen many such incidents in the history of mankind.

But as human we also can play our part in alleviating the miseries of these human beings, but how? I cannot say the answer. 

Many photographers have given us such gloomy pathetic views before Kevin Carter. Were they all verbally manhandled like him?

Kevin Carter, in spite of his courage may be a soft hearted man, easily downed by human sufferings. Besides, the public allegation which ignited his deep remorse in not have tried to save the child and also some failures in his personal life, drugs perhaps; all these might have led him to commit suicide. He had tried to commit suicide two times before.  

Looking Back

In my childhood days camera was a very rare object and photography, a once-a-while activity. My first photo ( that also a group photo) was taken when I said good-bye to school, after finishing my intermediate (SSLC). It was a customary to take a group photo of the intermediate children, who permanently leave the school, in those days. Among other children's' peeping faces, mine also appeared as a dark dot.

Camera was also a formidable instrument those days. It was a big box, a full load for a man to carry. The box was fitted on a tripod and the photographer adjusts the focus by adjusting the telescopic slide from behind. After this he will look up with a smile at the group sitting (or standing) in front of him.

"Ready, smile please" (just look at the one I have fitted on my face!). Then in a flash of second he will pull out the shutter. The thing is finished! 

A Rare  Model of an old Camera. It is fitted on a tripod

Just compare the above box with the present day Androids. You may wonder, because the newer generation chaps might not have seen such a 'Camera Box'. Technology has made everything 'small', including man who gave birth to it. 

A very usual incident!

It happened some three-four weeks before. I was in my evening walk when a big accident occurred at our place. A route bus smashed on a private car, killing two persons and seriously injuring another two on the spot .I also ran to the place (with my ailing heart). The road immediately turned on to a festival ground with a lot of people gathered pushing and pulling. The bodies, blood, body parts and metal scraps were strewn all over. I closed my eyes as I cannot withstand such scenes.

Nobody was raising a helping hand to take the dead and injured to the hospital. Everybody was busy taking  photographs of the scene in their mobiles. Meanwhile the police party arrived and did the job. The injured luckily escaped as the police reached in time.

What do you say of it? Is it murderous? How can we blame a professional like Kevin Carter for  having taken the photo of a child? He gave his life for it. But what else do we give?

Poverty in Kerala

Kerala, a small State at the southern most tip of India, is widely acclaimed as one with cent percent literacy rate. Here, politicians claim that that poverty has been completely wiped out over several years of their regime.

The popular adjective of Kerala, 'GOD'S OWN COUNTRY' is only a 'business stunt' of the Government and Tourism Department. In fact it is mostly (or fully) owned by Devils and God has already sold whatever he had to them, and left the place. In terms of natural beauty, Kerala has a top position among other similar states of India. In that respect it is one of 'God's own'

Poverty though not rampant in Kerala, still exists among the people living in high range areas, particularly among the tribal communities. Many of them are struggling for food, shelter, clothing, drinking water, sewage and other basic amenities. Contagious diseases often spread among them. The most suffering people of Kerala are perhaps the migrant workers from other States like Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, West Bengal etc. They work mainly in urban areas. Whatever they get will not be sufficient for a moderate living. Most of them live in the slum areas, often many men huddled in narrow 'rooms'. Many go to the streets also, where they have to face innumerable sufferings.

Economy of the State is now almost fully at the hands of 'Mafias', big industrialists, business people and builders. The gap between the 'haves' and 'have notes' is widening. This is not an affair of Kerala only but of the whole India. In spite of the merits of Globalization, demerits and hazards are most conspicuous. Blade (illicit, throat-cutting money lenders) mafia, Drug mafia, Liquor mafia, Land mafia, Sand Mafia, Black money mafia, Smuggler mafia etc. are growing in the State in unprecedented magnitude. (Mafias are illicit criminal gangs working against the Law and the Government). In the coming years robbery, murders, terrorist attacks and other illicit activities may probably increase in Kerala and other states of India.

Many places revealing natural beauty of Kerala still remain unexplored. I just point out two examples.

                                  Banasura Sagar Dam in Wayanad 

Is noted as a natural treasure. But due to the lack of facilities tourist are keeping away from the place. 

                                      Edakkal caves also in Wayanad

Lonely Soul

"Who is this lonely soul?" asked my friend. I said it is the character in the story.

Loneliness is the basic essential in the lives of all living beings. We are born alone without knowing it and pass away alone too. In between we strut along with our parents, friends and strangers. We do a lot of things to please them and long to get pleasure from them. At times we fight with each other and move apart and again unite. We do some wrong things and give them up as our simple flops. We amass money and enjoy the maximum of enjoyment. Some of us become losers.

Finally we fall. Then only we will feel loneliness. It will suffocate us with its iron-strong hands. Parents, friends, strangers everybody evade us. We will only see a glow where we we have to start our final journey.