From the Diary of a Wedding Photographer

By HSD

From the Diary of a Wedding Photographer is a hilarious account of a wedding photographer who is tasked by his photography agency to carry out services at a special wedding. The bride is the daughter of a don while the groom is a poor soul kidnapped by the don’s gang.

The photographer makes regular entries in the diary whom he calls ‘Lensy’ and writes about his personal struggles as well as his covert attempts to rescue the groom. He often seeks help from his dear friend Kallu who is unpredictable for interesting reasons.

The don is a former IT Project Head who is ably supported by his right-hand men who were formerly his colleagues in the IT industry- Ebitda the Finance Manager, Timeout the Team Lead and of course, Hurray the HR Manager.

The roller-coaster ride of the risky operation ends with incredible consequences and lessons.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Nov 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9789354584343

HSD

HSD hails from Bengaluru and is extremely passionate about travel. Being from a typical middle-class Indian family, he always dreamt of circling the globe and visiting all the countries.His novels are greatly influenced by anecdotes and lessons learnt through travel. He writes usually while cruising in a flight or traveling in a train. He has made travel a part of his job profile too, and thus an essential part of his life.Writing fiction is the author’s way of sharing some thoughts- ideas, concerns, humour with the readers. The author takes great care in his novels to add only those thoughts that need to be permanently available to the reader in the form of a book.From the diary of a Wedding Photographer is HSD’s third book. The novel continues the trend of striving to not only delight the reader but also engage. HSD likes to leave the reader with an afterthought and invoke the reader’s own conclusions rather than channelize the reader’s thoughts to a single focal point.HSD prefers to be anonymous to ensure that the focus of the reader does not shift from the work to the writer. This conscious effort aligns with the notion of keeping the ideas core to the engagement between the reader and the author. Anonymity also helps the author to side with the readers in case the book seems boring :)Email: [e-mail]: author_hsdTwitter: author_hsdHumble request from the author to the readers:Please provide your feedback or review on Instagram/ Twitter with #ReaderIsMyCelebrity and tag author_hsd. Your feedback will help me write better. Thanks in advance.

Book preview

SLIM-FIT

21/11/18, Bengaluru:

Dear Lensy,

Sorry for getting back to you after a long hiatus. It’s been a very tiring week. Now, straight for the entry-

Sir, a bit to the left… Yes, perfect! Stay… smile…-I bravely held out my hand, requesting a still pose, from the three gentlemen who had almost assaulted the cab driver as soon as he dropped them at the wedding venue. They were not happy with his request for a five-star rating.

The moment I felt that the picture was perfect, I waved at them, indicating that they could leave. So much for my courage, Lensy.

Most of my ‘smile please’ requests almost always go unanswered by the highly self-conscious clients-bellicose or comatose. I say ‘smile’ even while clicking pictures of babies. Actually, I say ‘smile’ to myself. The signal goes to my brain that my limbs should freeze, and the right index finger should jump into action… to click, of course…

I could not help saying the phrase in front of the irate trio too. The three gazed at me with their awful smiles that could not even push those pitted dunes of fried skin from the valleys around their noses. They gave me a strange look that was appreciative of the fact that I tried to spend some time trying to get them to look good.

As I always say, it’s tough to be a wedding photographer, Lensy, and one of the side-effects is that the day I became a photographer, I began offloading memories into portable hard-discs.

I have to capture others’ beautiful moments without being a part of it. Meticulousness and mirth never go hand in hand.

I am talking about Anand’s wedding that happened last evening. Anand was wearing a finely crafted groom’s turban with a flowery veil. He was empathetically patient to move the veil every time I requested him to pose for a picture. At times, I felt that his smile emerging from behind the layer was only to reassure me See? I’m still not angry with you.

Suddenly, I saw Anand’s aunt, Sakshi madam, who works at a safety enforcement body. She had almost canceled our firm’s license last month. She had seen me hanging upside down from a tree to capture a top angle pic of newlyweds.

Last evening, the way she walked towards me confirmed to me that she was not at all pleased, Lensy. As she approached, I could see that just like many other guests, she too had tried her best to don as much gold as possible. A pool of gold shimmered in front of me, all ready to be captured but not to be owned.

I tried to appear busy, balancing my body on the wooden stool and focussing my mind on the golden pool on the golden pool. But she pulled my jeans pocket and waved her hand downward, asking me to step down quickly.

I frantically got down, asking Babloo to continue with the clicking.

Send me the pictures on WhatsApp as soon as you click.

Sure, madam.-I was as relieved as a cricket fan who heard of Steve Bucknor’s retirement.

Can you do shopping on the pictures to make me look slimmer than the other girls?-she asked pointing at some lasses.

I really didn’t get that question, Lensy. All I knew was that, as a safety inspector, she had the authority to cancel the license of the photography firm I worked in. We were using a wooden stool and a stack of cosmetic chairs for height.

Nervously, I asked-Oh, you mean Photoshop?

Yes, whatever makes that happen.

I’ll try my best.-I blurted nervously.

Probably, my reply was a bitter eye-opener for her. She looked at me in a way I can’t describe, Lensy.

There was an uneasy silence. You see, we had to work in the kitchen when we were in school. These girls… click selfies and hit the gym.-she defended. They don’t even pray to God, forget about going to temples.-she offended.

I remained mum. Babloo moved his knee to tweak my backbone, signaling me to get back to the clicks.

I’ll do that for you, ma’am.-I tried hopping back on the stool, but quickly realized that Babloo had switched his stack of four cosmetic chairs with my stool as soon as I had got down. That’s why, Lensy… I say that assistants are just opportunist usurpers.

Anyway, I got onto the chairs, trusting my flat feet to manage the backward slope of the sleek finish. I didn’t force him to return my stool. Making peace with loss is subtle gain.

I looked at the line of girls queued behind Anand’s auntie. They were quite a challenge to my Photoshop skills. The poor lady stared at me entrusting her pride in my photographic ingenuity and I gave her an apologetic, intermittent gaze typical of a novice Photoshopper.

Finally their turn came! The entire regiment from Rayachuru district besieged the bride and the groom, and engaged in their own way of humor, giving me a much-needed break. But I was ill-informed of an occupational hazard, Lensy. Photographers can’t disclose that they are on a break. As soon as a girl saw me sipping water, she became upset. Bro…-she beckoned another girl… we are not being video-recorded. Let’s just pose and get done with the presents.

My break was cut short and then the line of guests did not even allow me to look around, forget about sipping water. I returned late in the night.

Today, while working on Sakshi madam’s Photoshop editing, Babloo made a huge mistake. He went berserk with laughter hearing about the request made by Sakshi madam and had a good time, slimming her image to almost size zero. When I forced him to work on it seriously, he made another pic with slimming appropriate for her age. I asked him to email the second one, but he ended up sending the first; and I sent it to her in a hurry, without verifying!

I am so scared… She hasn’t replied yet. Thank God, I didn’t send her the image through WhatsApp. The blue double-ticks would have made me more anxious.

When the boss came to know about it, he held me responsible. When I mentioned about Babloo, he immediately got upset. Why are you pointing fingers at Babloo for your mistake?-he shouted, taking me by surprise.

Off to bed, now.

Wooing the woes

25/11/18, somewhere near Nandurbar Junction (In a train)

This train is horrible as far as food is concerned. The funny fact is that the pantry charges for this food. Yes, Lensy. But then, the copassenger at the side-upper has told me that there are some caterers on the Nandurbar platform who serve great food. I have kept 150 rupees ready in my left hand as I type this entry. The parcels will get over as soon as the train stops.

It’s so strange that India is full of unhealthy food and if you look for good food, you are considered fussy. It’s a great psychological trick, Lensy. If you want someone to select an object you want him to, you flood his choices with similar objects and every time he discards an object, label him fussy. A time will come when he will yield… A time when his mental strength will be broken down with fatigue from constant embarrassment.

Oh yes, before I forget… I checked out of my hotel and boarded this train last evening. There was a spat between the hotel staff and a couple of guests. The guests were angry that the hotel was pet-friendly but not couple-friendly. They had felt that the hotel treated animals superior to humans. In return, the hotelier had argued that it was all about trust.

Anyway, it was an interesting conversation.

Today I received a text from my manager that my travel expenses will not be reimbursed fully since the claim policy does not consider rise in conveyance fares due to inflation and oil price hike over the years. So, I have to travel for the wedding shoot partly on my own spending. I have decided to walk to the venue from the railway station.

Sometimes I feel extremely sad that even after studying engineering, I am working for this photography chain that has spread its tentacles across India. If only I knew that the institution was removed from accreditation… It would have been better had AICTE found this earlier. The speculation is that since my college belongs to the previous chief minister, the current chief minister from the opposite party has levelled charges on the validity of the institution. It was a political vendetta. This act has also snowballed into questioning the University’s validity. A case is being fought as of now. Whatever it may be, my invalid certificate taunts me every time I open the cupboard.

I remember a conversation from Pendurthi Sri Tharun’s wedding ceremony at Kakinada three weeks ago. This was at the dinner hall… From the groom’s side emerged a girl who flaunted tattoos wherever skin seemed to be visible. In fact, I had felt that she had no need for clothes. The only finishing touch required to complete her glamour was a lazy, slow-motion run.

In order to secure my bonus by submitting display-worthy pics to the boss, I went close to her to get a snap. But I soon overheard a conversation nearby-

He is my son, Chagaleru Srikanth.-a father introduced his six-footer son, who had bent down to three, trying to stand up to the parental expectations. The only places where parents feel proud of their kids are the wedding hall and the shopping mall. That is because their kids wear good clothes at both places.

So, which engineering college?-the newly introduced informal judge began his sessions-court. I was surprised that he had directly asked about engineering college, not college in general.

It’s in Visakhapatnam. Andhra University College of Engineering. The response proved that there are a few things that can be safely taken for granted in Andhra Pradesh. I have heard that a Telugu movie called Happy Days has pushed many youngsters towards Mechanical Engineering specifically.

So, a dowry of 20 kgs of gold is guaranteed for you. Good, good.

Which year?

Final year.

Oh great, when are you expecting a visa?

Visa?-I scratched my head with the camera belt.

Visa? For what?-Chagaleru Srikanth was so confused that he dipped his Rasagulla in Sambar.

Hey, for MS in the US, of course. Don’t you want 50 kgs of dowry?

No, I’m not going for MS.

WHAT!?-the judge had his imaginary hammer struck on his little finger.

I’m not…

Here is my son’s phone number. He is currently doing his MS there. Call him at 12 in the midnight. He’ll support you in every possible way. Our Telugu diaspora in the US is very strong. Most of them are in HR firms. It should not be difficult for you to gain entry into the US. It’s just the same model that our people use in Bengaluru. Get into the HR firms and start colonizing. Hahaha...

Chagaleru Srikanth took the number and walked away, humming ‘We don’t need no education’. I stood in shock, needing education to get out of the loan that has accumulated over the years. I remember how some of my relatives who had never shown their faces for decades suddenly showed their true faces at the Engineering Seat Selection venue, persuading my mom to push me into Arts rather than Engineering.

Son, Engineering is not a good field anymore. It is declining. Jobs are getting saturated. With Arts background, at least you will be certified as a dependable street-protestor against government atrocities. Most of the protests happen in Delhi. You get to roam around the capital city. Your trip will be sponsored by the organizers. You get to fly to Delhi!

Mom was annoyed. My son won’t travel by air to sit on the roads.

Anyway, I am earning some decent pay as of now. If only this claim issue gets sorted!

On one hand, I eat junk food everywhere I go and on the other, I need to spend extra energy. This does not go down well with the Law of Conservation of Energy.

Ok, for now, I am going to watch a movie with a co-passenger. We have finally won the battle for the plug-point. Our adversary, that chap whose fiancée works in Dubai, was on call for 3 hours straight. Luckily, he bent over to take out his wallet to pay for the water bottle and accidently pulled down the charger plug from the socket. And then, there was Kodandarama! The training from the opportunist Babloo paid off!

Bye for now!

A man is known by the company he works in

26/11/2018 (in a place that has faced more invasions)

Hey Lensy,

You know what? Today is my birthday!! It’s so difficult to realize that I am 30 years old now. Because I still have that Hotwheels toy-car collection intact!!

But then, the world has changed for worse, Lensy. One way to feel young is to realize that others are still immature… that age and maturity are not correlated.

I was at the wedding venue early in the morning, as usual, setting up my camera. I I caught a few stares and giggles being directed at me. Some even took my pictures on their phones. It was later that I realized…

I was being constantly mocked for the three-striped sacred ash I had drawn across my forehead. What’s wrong in that, Lensy? It is my birthday and I had visited a temple in the dawn.

I am used to ridicule when people hear my name for the first time. ‘Kodandarama’ does not seem to be a name that can be spared. Especially at a time when social media is pushing society into superficiality. In fact, the groom for today has a stylish name-Sahil Sameer. Either of the two names is stylish enough but the dude needs two.

It’s a different fact that I can give even the best athlete a ‘run’ for his money when it comes to physical fitness. I have six pack abs, Lensy. The one fact that today’s society cares about.

Sahil Sameer, as I overheard a conversation, hates exercise. He is a champion in online games but when it comes to fitness, he does not even go for a walk. But then… he is still Sahil Sameer and I’m still Kodandarama… Rama with a bow. But I never bow down to mediocrity. I have been ridiculed for my name countless number of times…

It is not a new phenomenon. Westernization in the name of modernization. Thankfully, I escaped the epidemic as I was born and raised in Belagavi district. The land of Rani Chennamma. She might have passed away centuries ago but her timeless legacy has still preserved our Kannada culture. Had I been raised in Bengaluru or rather Bangalore-I would have questioned our traditions. Our traditions are based on common sense and street-smartness. From leaving footwear outside the house, to keeping gold inside the house...

But then, we have too many people who believe that challenging common sense is intelligence. They will question only to show off their intelligence.

I generally never think about such things but today, Lensy, they went overboard. I am feeling surprised at myself that I am typing all of this.

But it is nice to know that at least I know history… the true history that has been suppressed. Suppression of truth is far worse than plain lies.

The ash on my forehead was, once upon a time, followed in this part of India as well. Well, I can’t say which part of India this place is in… What if my diary gets into someone’s hands...? No, Lensy, I cannot risk that.

But this part of India has suffered far more invasions, and hence, far more erosion of truth and far more lies. I called up Suman in the noon just after break and mentioned about history, since he is a history major. But sadly, he studied high school history as a kid. His major was built on that foundation. He vehemently opposed my idea of a relook at our official history. He won’t change, I know. He is a 90s kid. But you know what, Lensy?

The 90s kids will fade away… The first crop of millennials will fade away. They will lose the decision-making power. They will not acknowledge real history, but the kids born after, can be made to understand real history if we tell them about the suppressed events and forgotten personalities.

The previous generations will impede this acknowledgment since they will remain as influencers. But the intensity will gradually decrease.

Oh yeah, before I forget… I got a call last night from Babu uncle. He is pressurizing me for money. I disconnected the call by threatening him again. I am fed up of living in a joint family, Lensy. 2 BHK and six people means that there will be a minimum of one extra pair of eyes needlessly prying over you and one extra nose poking into your business all the time. Babu uncle sure helped me finance my engineering degree but the moment my degree got derecognized, I virtually became a 12th grader with an engineer’s loan. Somehow, I ended up with this pan-India photo agency that wanted a photographer who has the stamina to stand for hours and click photos. In the interview, I told the panelist that I was an engineering student, quite adept at waiting in queues, especially after the de-recognition drama.

I also added that when demonetization happened, I was ‘the last man standing’ at the ATMs while others fainted. I stood alone so long and so often that even the 2011 England Vs Dravid series seemed small. He was immediately impressed. He was also happy with my height. He said that he could do away with stools since the safety inspector, Sakshi madam, was a pain in his backside for unsafe working methods. Who asked him to go for safety standards in a country where power plants are built with laborers balancing their walk without safety belts on slender beams at 2000-meter height?

As far as Babu uncle is concerned, I have been evading the repayment by threatening him that I work for a black-&-white crime magazine that remains hung at the entrance of tea shops and instills fear in the minds of the passersby with blurry images of killers who are still at large. Uncle seems to buy my threat that, unknown to him, I will capture a photo of his and blur it for the magazine. But this threat is not going to work for too long. Someday, he’ll figure out that I’m just a wedding photographer.

I have managed to stick around with this agency as of now. I shouldn’t have said ‘no’ to the placard-shoot. But I was fed up waiting for the actress to apply enough oil on her face. It seems that an oily face conveys seriousness. I didn’t know this, Lensy. I got pissed off and asked Golu to take over. Now he is seen at various photoshoots in Mumbai and I’m still asking for a change of job profile. Of course, controversy is eternally etched in the fate of this country; and I keep a bottle of coconut oil handy so that the moment I see a celebrity with a placard, I can request for a deal. Add to that, I can readily offer the oil to save some time.

I learnt that interview-photography of politicians carries higher salary package. Last time when the politician of a national party came for an interview, I pressurized the boss to allow me represent our agency but he denied saying - You need to take photos from different corners and for that to happen, you need to move around ducking in front of the cameras of other photographers. My height was an issue for him. He uses my height as per his whims.

I am in his bad books that I have not implemented his recommended Lean Six Sigma principles at home. He wants each employee to follow the principles for performance improvements such as getting up at the right time, reducing waste in dust bins, finishing breakfast in right quantities at optimal calories and arriving to office at the right time by properly forecasting traffic woes. He has conducted residential audits at the homes of all employees except me. He has also made clear his motto-‘Bottom line is my top priority’.

I have told him that my uncle is waiting for the loan repayment and if he comes to know that my boss