I was reading this article on some news website about how being on Facebook made people sad- some compared these happy pictures of others to their own state of happiness. This made me think how I have been on the same boat - where I have seen pictures of friends and their happy families only to realize later how things have been going totally wrong in their lives. Similarly, my very choreographed and sometimes truly happy pictures with my ex have made friends and acquaintances think of us as one of the happiest couples on earth.
Pictures used to be a medium of sharing and holding on to memories- memories of a person, event or place that was associated with happiness- yes even in death I would think it always brought back fond memories of that person. The other day my brother was in town, making a brief halt over the long weekend on one of his million business trips. This time he had his colleague traveling with him- Dr. N. On two occasions I saw what photos could really mean. At home, he took her to each one of the ones that I had put up and explained in great detail, where it had been taken and how old we were and also the circumstances that they were taken in- I was transported back by more than 30 years in some of them. The other time I heard him complain looking at one of my Mother's teen photos, about how he had never seen this particular one before. To Dr. N, it seemed to bring back memories of her mother and she commented about how "our parents were out there in Fashion sense and style and how we fare poorly by their standards". The second occasion was when I dragged them over to my laboratory. I was going to start overnight cultures of bacteria and my brother was pointing out to the near sterile conditions that US labs have compared to our Indian counterparts. I was about to show them how I inoculated my cultures when I realized that I heard hushed tones and my brother trying to explain relationships to Dr. N. I have a collage of nearly all of the members of the extended family on my desk. He had taken that and was explaining again who was whom.
To us, I realized, who live far away from families, photos are sources of keeping the memories alive and creating new ones. We might miss the actual occasion, but just looking at them, we weave webs of colors, smiles, emotions that we think must have occured during a particular event. It is then, I realize that well choreographed pictures present a hurtful scenario- it seems that we have been cheated. When you know the behind the scene story of what transpired right before the picture was taken, you feel like someone came and shattered your right to dream.
I leave with one lingering question: In this day and age of digital pictures, camera phones and social networking where technology is ubiquitous and we take thousand random pictures, will I get the delight of digging up an old photo 30 years down the line and feel the same as I felt when I dug out a 45 year old black and white picture of my mom in her dark rimmed glasses and over the top hair bun very cautiously poised in a studio?
Pictures used to be a medium of sharing and holding on to memories- memories of a person, event or place that was associated with happiness- yes even in death I would think it always brought back fond memories of that person. The other day my brother was in town, making a brief halt over the long weekend on one of his million business trips. This time he had his colleague traveling with him- Dr. N. On two occasions I saw what photos could really mean. At home, he took her to each one of the ones that I had put up and explained in great detail, where it had been taken and how old we were and also the circumstances that they were taken in- I was transported back by more than 30 years in some of them. The other time I heard him complain looking at one of my Mother's teen photos, about how he had never seen this particular one before. To Dr. N, it seemed to bring back memories of her mother and she commented about how "our parents were out there in Fashion sense and style and how we fare poorly by their standards". The second occasion was when I dragged them over to my laboratory. I was going to start overnight cultures of bacteria and my brother was pointing out to the near sterile conditions that US labs have compared to our Indian counterparts. I was about to show them how I inoculated my cultures when I realized that I heard hushed tones and my brother trying to explain relationships to Dr. N. I have a collage of nearly all of the members of the extended family on my desk. He had taken that and was explaining again who was whom.
To us, I realized, who live far away from families, photos are sources of keeping the memories alive and creating new ones. We might miss the actual occasion, but just looking at them, we weave webs of colors, smiles, emotions that we think must have occured during a particular event. It is then, I realize that well choreographed pictures present a hurtful scenario- it seems that we have been cheated. When you know the behind the scene story of what transpired right before the picture was taken, you feel like someone came and shattered your right to dream.
I leave with one lingering question: In this day and age of digital pictures, camera phones and social networking where technology is ubiquitous and we take thousand random pictures, will I get the delight of digging up an old photo 30 years down the line and feel the same as I felt when I dug out a 45 year old black and white picture of my mom in her dark rimmed glasses and over the top hair bun very cautiously poised in a studio?
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