Our kids generation is going to be the most heavily
photographed one. Its mind boggling sometimes. The amount of energy we devote
to clicking them, sorting through the pictures, sharing the 10 amongst 1000 clicked
on various social media, online and offline family albums, tracking
likes/comments.
My father enjoyed photography and bought a Mamia camera back
in the late 70’s. Thanks to his love for the camera, we were lucky to have few
albums of our early years. I always
thought my Dad was surprisingly missing from most pictures. I now know that he
was on the other side of the lens.
The story repeats 32 years down the line. My son will find
his mother missing in most pictures. It might take him another 30 years to
realize she was behind the lens.
In the frenzy of all this clicking, I am beginning to get
somewhat dis enchanted with pictures though. They seem to hide as much,
sometimes more, as they reveal. They seem to create a delusion that all was
good “back then”. They perpetuate
nostalgia.
Will my son think of his first birthday being only about cake,
candles, lots of smiles, beautiful resort and, tuk-tuk ride? When it’s his 17th birthday and he
is feeling crappy for some reason, will these pictures make him feel worse?
What if we gave our children a thousand words instead of a 1000
pictures for each birthday? Telling them how we felt at that time. About them
growing up, our journey as a parent, our highs but also our lows. Along with a
few pictures, maybe that’ll be a bigger treasure for them? I am sure it would
have been for me.
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