Black tents, boxes, and reflections

Remember those photographs of your childhood, when photographers covered themselves in black glory, before clicking your likeness ? Remember those class photos, with people on the left with knees turned one way, and those on the right the other way, waiting for some guy to emerge from under the black tent and get done with it all ?

My friend Umashankar Pandey, who is actually a writer, poet, photographer moonlighting as a banker, wrote an amazing blogpost about being a child in the throes of a parental campaign to have his photo clicked , for transport purposes....

Do read the post ! 

Turns out that he is now stuck with another black box of sorts, but he is inside it ....!

(photo courtesy Umashankar Pandey's blogpost)

Another time, another age.

A little boy,
mortified with the
feminine gazes,
sits uncomfortable
with pursed lips
and accusative eyes,
wondering what lies
inside the Big Black Box
under the tent
and what magic
the man
on the other side
fiddles with
inside,
to come up with
something
that is a picture of him.
(The little boy).

Today,
the boy,
little no more
himself sits inside the Big Box,
both him
and the tent
a bit smarter,
covered with a
blogblanket
dreaming and typing,
one gem after another
sometimes in sepia,
sometimes in swarovski
and sometimes
in blinding technicolor.

And so many sit,
avidly speculating
on the other side
quizzically wondering,
if he is clicking
a photo,
a poem,
a story,
or just having a good laugh at them all ……