Of a Yellow Old Photograph.

“Photographed in black and white, capturing the color of the soul!”

Of the color of the dusky sky it was,
torrid, tempestuous, threatening to pour,
the old black and white photograph.
Look! What the trials of time have done to it,
turning it eventually a yellowish-maize,
bleaching out gradually as in a slow bath of acid.
she wondered..
It were like a secret of a secret.
The more it told, the lesser she knew…


Some thirty years ago,
she remembers the ritual she underwent
to save her physical artistry, to salvage her winsomeness,
to be shot by the box camera,
so that today, her youthful beauty be written about!
Perhaps she was in the know,
there were a certain somethings in her that would never be noticed,
had it not been for a photograph.
Because it captured nothing else will.
A precious documentation of her youthful moment,
Standing still…

Fished out of an old-school type album,
the one’s with black pages, cosmic white butter papers.
Through one side of the photo paper, she smiles..
Not the vampire smile they show on tee vee,
not the jubilant smile her daughter gives!
Angelic, divine and harmless it is..

What an ethereal beauty she was once,
delicate, elegant, pastel and flimsy..
So slim, she could hide behind her brother’s cigar,
narrow at the waist, like an hourglass!
Like a bottle of coca-cola, well framed she was!
Picture-perfect…


Out of her closet of saris, she had chosen printed chiffon!
It spoke of flowers, gardens and realms.
As beautiful as her, only adding to her aura,
a touch of culture, an element of jade…
Wrapped in totality in the nine yard clothe,
her head just emerged out of the drape,
like goddess of spring she looked, of nature’s newest darling!
She let her hair flow, down up till her shoulders
straight, thin black locks, giving a feel of savannas in a winter evening!
No dash of kajal black,
or streaks of mascara in the lash!
As clear as the glacier white,
the eyes that talk of a regal might.

To a nearby studio she had gone,
and in front of a celebrated backdrop she postured!
She straightened her spine, shoulders upright,
sat cross-legged with her chin held high!
Curved her lips in a gentle smile,
cautious enough to not let them depart,
she had looked like piece of art!
And waited,
In breathlessness,
In choke,
In anxiety,
to not let her composure be disfigured,
to let her best be captured
waited for the box-camera to go, ‘click’…

After thirty years or more,
the beauty of the snap has not gone sore.
the same pose, the same smile,
the stiffness in her spine she erected for a while.
The expression of the impression has remained,
because the very beautiful was in her..

In the gilded silver frame she has preserved,
like silver lining to a grey-black cloud.
Holding the frame by her right hand,
she lifts it up and stares!
Like a man clutching his beloved by the waist,
irresistible to break free…
stares at an instant of her life staring back at her,
ceaselessly, incessantly, perpectually,
reciting to her the stories of the moment..

She remembers the ritual she underwent,
to take that single shot!
Like today, ‘click’ ‘view’ and ‘delete’ would really be so boring.
There was no Kodak, she could not look silly,
show herself to the camera,just for merriment,
laugh all day until she runs out of film.
The only photograph of its kind,
no duplicates, no negatives, no shots taken blind.
In her what she constructed all the years,
It did disclose all…

She wonders how far she has come of age,
voyaging through the journey of life..
when all she feels is choke and nostalgia at this stage.
of memories, saris and shots..
From a pink mistress to a wrinkled empress!
The smile in the snap happened in a flash,
but, its memory has lasted a lifetime.

She smiled through the tears,
hypnotized by her physical prowess.
As words had lost their power
and memorial images were inadequate,
she focused on the photograph…
and stood in silence,
asking to herself, ‘can you see anything?’
There was but just one answer:
‘Yes! Wonderful things!’

Because its retro, original and insane,
its worth all the tears.
That it can never be shot again,
is what makes it so sweet…