Clicking the flood

A very tragic thing has been upon Pakistan by means of floods and while corporate culture, as it is, can never remain out in the race to market themselves, whatever may happen, they seem not to be alone. It saddens me to report and realize that many budding photographers have started seeing this as an opportunity for capturing good photographs of stricken families, specially kids.

While western world have a lot of sceneries and greenery -clean one, that is- to make those little moments special or add some natural tones in backgrounds of pictures or add green bokeh in background to contrast white skin [works with most of the skin tones, though], we desi people have a lot to pride on too. We have human in their natural habitat, many times desperate for basic necessity too, capture those thousand wrinkles of an elderly, or dirty face of a child whose eyes speaks volumes of innocence. If there pictures speaks of dreamy world, out of books, may be idealistic world at times, our portrays that of reality. Perhaps, that is why every beautiful smile of a child who lives, anywhere, in a third world country, has people flocking over to that image. 

May be I am a cynic, a pessimist and I see negativity in things a lot but I truly pray that these photographers' driving intentions are to aware people of whats happening rather than their ambition to get a photograph recognized internationally and what can guilt people more - even for a minute - than eating and living a good life while a child somewhere is getting sick of eating and drinking mud because thats all it can get.

Photographer on flickr

Episode A

Every now and then a piece of me cringes, shrivels, loves, hates, and clings desperately to hope, all in one moment. It asks for forgiveness from my own self and yet it partially believes that experiences happens and I shouldn't still be asking for forgiveness, I should have moved on. I have been holding my breath and praying for the pain to be over. I do not understand it, for most of the time I believe I have moved on from it, and perhaps, I will not feel the same hurt and pain again but it leaves me cold with its sudden outbursts. 

I do not understand its reasoning.

Am I actually holding on to all that still, somewhere in my unconsciousness?

Is it because I have held myself in too high opinion that I can not forgive myself?

Have I really not forgiven myself or is it a cover of my holding on to the memory too tight?

And then, every now and then, after I am over with these sudden mind swirling emotions and questions, I feel normal again, almost content and I be grateful for it, for my life, for my choices and for who I am. And every time, I hope there wouldn't be a next time to these episodes.