The Sun Rises From The West
Sitting in the airport, waiting for my flight to South Africa, here I am again rambling about life. Maybe this is the side effect of being alone, or rather shall I say, an ignominious attempt at being accustomed to the feeling of being left alone recently.
Though as much as you might love black and white photography, the world is not black and white. You will keep on learning this again and again, for the hundredth time. You give something to someone, you do something for someone, you give your time to someone, and just like the naive and gullible idiot you have become, because life was going all smoothly for you, you expect all of these things in return. But this is not how the world works. This is not black-and-white photography where colors don’t matter - where only the subject and the story of the photo matter. Out here, the colors are of utmost significance.
No matter what story the subject or the setting in the photo tells you, no matter how hard you worked to be at the right place at the right moment to create a perfect setting for the photo, the colors always decide whether the photo is worth an eye-candy or not. And the colors are always out of your hand. It can rain, the clouds can block the sun, or it can get gloomy, and all your colors get distorted. Your idea of a perfect photo gets ruined. And all you are left with is a viewfinder, and still, like an idiot, you keep searching for the same perfect photo again - lamenting over it, over the things or feelings that photo could have unlocked for you.
And you can’t fix the colors. They are what they are. Blue is blue, grey is grey, and white is white. But then, you will realise that as a photographer who loves black and whites, your perception of colors was different from the beginning. Maybe, after all, the colors were distorted for you because, the lights on the colors didn’t shine as brightly. Maybe for you, the Sun rises from the West.