My Camera & My Chai – Introspecting

My Camera And My Chai

The last picture that I posted, and the article that I put up does seem to evoked a lot of emotion in those who read it. Yet, I did not write about what I felt.

I was standing at the corner, chatting with some men who I was photographing, and I was looking over at the street food vendor’s stall. I watched people eat, and throw their trash into a bin, and I thought – “cool man, we are developing a modicum of civic sense!” That is when I looked down, and saw the old lady sitting by my feet. I got a shock. I have seen poverty. I have seen death. I have seen a little girl right after her “masters” put her eye out because (presumably) she was not raking in enough money. Begging is big business in India, and in many places it is controlled by the mafia. I was told that begging at a singe traffic light can fetch between 100,000 and 150,000 USD per year. I have no way of knowing if this is true, or sensationalist blah. And, I have seen men whose legs had been cut off at the knees and put out to beg because they could not repay a loan.

This indeed is India, the land of Gandhi and the land of the non-violent movement.

And yet, when I saw the old lady sitting there crumpled almost, on the street, I got a shock. It went through me. I wanted to photograph her, and yet I could not. It just did not seem right to stand there over her, and photograph her. I reached down, and gave her ten rupees, which is about 15 US cents. Her gratitude made me feel ashamed and guilty. This meant the world to her, and the money had comparatively less value for me. When I walked around, I saw a man offering her food, and she refused. I think it was because she felt that she could not digest it. When I took the photo, the story of the sadness of her situation, the remains of the food carelessly tossed away, her almost invisibility formed in my mind.

I thought to myself that, for a country that wants to progress we need to do better. For a country that talks so much of our ancient values, and how we must respect our elders – we must do better.

Yes, there is hope. There are rural temples, as mentioned by Bharti Arthray, where they feed poor people. Similarly, in the langar (free kitchen) of the Gurudwaras of the Sikhs, you get free food. Not far away from where I was, people give money to restaurants at the Jama Masjid, to feed people. Kindness and good deeds are not missing. What is missing is real, genuine institutional action to solve problems of this kind.

I wandered off to drink a cup of tea. The tea cost me eight rupees.

Coming to think of it, what had I really done?

All that I had done really, was to give her the equivalent of a little more than a cup of tea. That’s it.


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One thought on “My Camera & My Chai – Introspecting

  1. I have MCS. They call this an invisible illness because most of the symptoms cannot be seen by someone else. The real invisibility is that we have to stay in our homes or avoid people in order to avoid toxic chemicals. The most difficult part of having MCS is that we become invisible to the world. Knowing what it is like to be treated as if I am invisible — I can say with certainty — that the fact that you SAW that woman as a person — was more valuable than if you surrounded her with all the monetary wealth in the world. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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