The Age of Innocence and its Subsequent loss

Black and white pictures weave a magic of their own. Even today in the age of colour and digital photography, black and white pictures occupy a different pedestal in itself. I feel those were the days of actual photography, bereft of any preset tools or options that enhanced the image. That is why photographers’ of that era, were a class apart. They rarely got a second chance for that perfect shot.    My father was a self-taught photographer. He dabbled with photography as a pastime, with his German make Voigtlander camera. Not many today would know of these cameras any more. A month or two earlier, while rummaging through the attic, I got this picture along with many others. This picture taken by my father, got me thinking.

This picture with my brother must have been in the late ’70s. I am sitting on an extended ledge of the window of our rented house with my brother aside. 

Those were the carefree times, no stress, no worry times. What we call today as the “Hakuna Matata” !!.  Intently looking at the picture, flashbacks start hitting me one after another. I don’t seem to have any recollections of this period(of the photograph), though it makes me happy to see a different “me” in these pictures. My brother is older to me by several years and has been more a fatherly figure. He has been someone, whom I have always looked up in awe. Rarely have I seen an individual being so passionate about learning anything new and exploring new frontiers.

 Days rolled by to months and years. My consciousness took shape, sadly killing the plant of innocence in its way. Thoughts and opinions bore fruit. Whether they were good or bad, logical or illogical was a different matter.

 I remember being a very talkative student in my first and second grade. The teachers had to admonish me for the same, many a time. On one particular instance, there was a long note written in the school diary(to my parents) about me being a talkative student. I was supposed to get my father’s signature as an acknowledgement of seeing the note. My mother was furious and kept me awake late into the night, till my father arrived. It was anybody’s guess as to what happened next. This incident was one of the first amongst many others that followed, in my school days. The scars of some, I carry even today. My erosion of innocence probably begins from here. I began to withdraw into myself as a result. 

Back on the home front, I endured a conflict of opinions on the way ahead as I headed to complete my school life. There were efforts to guide me into science which I found challenging. I was not a science person. Then there were efforts towards the art line, which I liked, but that too was shot down by some. I had conjured something in my head but could not pursue that either. Life, over the years, had become very complicated. The innocence was ebbing away. My brother too became busy with his field of work. Not only did time become a scarcity but also our approaches to seeing life, varied. Though I knew he was right in many ways and wrong in many others, I could never have a normal conversation with him. I feel the pain of it, even today. There cannot be a more caring person than him, but I seem to have lost myself. This situation was a stark contrast to the black and white picture in front of me. 

This write-up is not a complaint of any kind but an expression of helplessness within. This kind of situation may be happening elsewhere too. It certainly is not unique to me. I wonder today, why do our lives have to tread this path. Is there no way out to retain innocence and simplicity?

Picture Credits: The Internet and Mr M K Dasgupta