Stories

“If you could stop the shouting of your own thoughts in your ears,

you might be able to hear the small voice of …

a pine cone in the sun.”

– Minor White

The other day, I was listening to a podcast on the craft of writing.

Occasionally what the guest said made me pause the conversation and reflect, or note down a particularly memorable line, and there were many. For example, when asked about the writer’s block, she said – the point is not to try harder but to resist less. That seemed an interesting way to look at the situation, something that suggested a little bit of thought and introspection.

However, within a minute of finishing the conversation, instead of sitting with all the thoughts that the conversation had awakened in me, I was on Insta chuckling over a reel that popped up on my feed.

I remembered my behaviour the next day.

I thought about how often I get distracted. The ease with which I pick up the phone while watching an edge of the seat thriller on Netflix. The seamless transition from finishing a newsletter on leadership, to one on the US economy to a third one talking about Steve Jobs’ thoughts on beauty and functionality – without a break.

The power of distraction the second screen holds is genuine. The overflowing availability of material to consume is seductive for those who love to consume. Someone like me.

And yet, it is simplistic to blame technology alone for bringing information to you. I am not as innocent a victim as I would like to believe.

I thought about my trip to Tanzania.

I had just arrived there. Serengeti is magical, vast and teeming with wildlife and natural beauty. This was also my first visit.

But, from the time I landed there, my mind was focused on my next trip – to Uganda.

In my mind, Serengeti was done: I have arrived: the trip is happening. What next? I asked for details about a trip to Europe next year. I badgered Rahul about plans for 2027 and pestered him to include a trip to Patagonia in the calendar.

Imagine.

These are my thoughts while I am in the Serengeti. Where the first dusty hordes of wildebeest and zebras had just arrived announcing the start of the noisy and chaotic Great Migration, where a cheetah is keeping a watchful eye on the madcap antics of her five cubs and lionesses are sunning themselves on kopjes.

Photography requires the mind to be quiet; it needs you to soak in the place, get rooted to where you are, observe the small details, get the pulse of the world around you, become one with it.

It is when your mind is quiet that you notice the small opportunities of perspectives, the minor details that you want to include in the frame. It is then that, most importantly, you start to realize what is that you feel about the place which you want your images to convey.

I can’t say what I missed because of my distracted mind. But I know that I have.

The quiet yet intimate beauty  of the land moved me. Could I have tried out ways to translate the feel of an Impressionist painting by moving my camera like a brush?

I felt a timelessness about the place. Should I have composed my frames such that the billion-year-old rocks are the hero and the lioness on the rock, the embellishment?

Do I feel the richness and abundance of the variety of life that this ecosystem nourishes? Should I have tried to create an image of the moment when I saw at least a dozen agama lizards sunning on a rock?

I went back to look at my images with a different eye.

I had not tried much of ICM and I had definitely ignored the agama lizards. Composition wise there were a few interesting options though. There are a few images where I feel the rocks are the main focus and the lion is incidental. Some of them might work. However, I am aware that these images were accidental; created more as a result of experimentation than a conscious desire to capture my feelings.

I need to make my images in a more intentional manner, trying to be more aware of what I feel about the place, the situation.

For that, I need to stay in the present more.

I need to stay quiet.

(Here are some of the images that gives me an inkling of what could have been.)

This was one spectacular kopje, small and big rocks of all shapes tumbling down from an impressive height.

Yes, the lioness turning back at the right moment adds the finishing touch to the story.

To me, this feels like the path on the kopjes leads to the ultimate destination for us photographers…the subject on top,

but its the path that makes the image.

Another perspective of the same image….which one works for you more ? I am conflicted myself.

Though I definitely would have composed this differently if I had looked at the image keeping the kopjes as the hero.

Some of these ancient rocks are really massive and this was one of the few images where I wanted to

convey more about the rock and used the lioness as a tool to do that.

Not all rocks are bound by familial ties. Some of them are loners. 

I love the texture on the rock in the left and the quirky shape of the one to the right.

However, I am unsure what I could have done differently,

we could not go closer for fear of spooking the cheetah away.

I would have composed this image a lot differently had I focused on conveying my awe of the landscape

than focusing on the pair of lionesses. I could have moved my camera bit to the right,

bringing in more of the landscape and shifting the two lionesses to the extreme left.

Here I can be a little kind to myself…this was shot from such a distance and with such little time that it was tough to compose it any other way 🙂

By the time we reached closer, the moment had passed.

Cheers !

Ashok