No Photo Please

    

    The chiseled face of Richard Emblin floats in from somewhere in my mind as the annual circular from the External Publicity Division of the Ministry on inviting foreign journalists lands on my desk. Richard Emblin, a Canadian, is a professional photographer. For many years he has lived in Colombia and was the photo editor of Colombia’s leading national daily, “El Tiempo” (The Time). We got to know Richard and his wife Maria Claudia, (we all called her MC), rather well during our stay in Bogota from 2002 to 2005. These days he and MC run Colombia’s only English language newspaper, The City Paper.

    In those days, when militancy and terrorism were at their peak, there wasn't much one could do in their free time. Even clubs were not safe and I recollect with horror the bombing of club ‘El Nogal’, the shock waves of which we could feel at our home, miles away. So we just hung around with friends and we did hang around a lot with Richard and MC. Partly due to our friendship I was able to convince Richard to go to India on the familiarization programme for foreign journalists and report from the ground.

 

    Richard was in India for about two weeks and his paper published several stories and photographs with his byline. Once he was back in Bogota, Richard invited us for dinner home. For dinner we had Ajiaco, the unique  Colombian potato and chicken stew. It is  made of 3 types of potatoes, papas criollas, papas pastusas and papas sabaneras (these varieties of potatoes are found only in Colombia), corn and the Colombian herb guascas (Galinsoga parviflora) which  renders an indescribable aromatic flavour to the stew. It is served with slices of avocado, capers and cream. Many claim that Ajiaco is the national dish of Colombia. Once we went to Palacio de Nariño, the Presidential Palace, for lunch with President Andres Pastrana. Ajiaco was the main course.  

 

    After the hearty meal, Richard asked us to move into his study for a slideshow. He seemed uncharacteristically perked up and excited. I asked him what it was all about? He had arranged a special slideshow for us. Those days, in the early 2000s, before the dawn of digital photography, slides were the only way one could project photographs on a screen. Each roll of slides had 36 frames. Richard would show us pictures he had shot in Karnataka. 

 

    He dimmed the lights, and switched on the projector. All  four of us sat comfortably in couches in the book lined study with mugs of Juan Valdez coffee. Richard had the remote in his hand and the projector started rolling. Enchanting stone art of the glorious Hoysala temples of Belur and Halibed went up on the screen. Each frame  was striking. From the temples, Richard moved to the coast and there were slides of the mesmerizing Karwar coast among others. One by one we reached slide number 25. Then we moved to slide number 27. 27? What about slide number 26? There was no slide number 26. I turned to Richard and asked him why, what happened? Richard sought patience. He got up and turned on the lights and told us his story.

 

    While returning from Mangalore to Bangalore, Richard and his companion from the Foreign Office were crossing the temple town of Udupi, famous worldwide for its cuisine. Richard’s companion asked him if he would mind stopping at Udupi for a while. The town of Udupi was home to many mutts (monasteries) and he was a devotee of a particular monk who was much revered. Richard’s companion proposed that they go and seek the monk’s  blessings. Richard happily agreed. 

 

    Richard found the monk charismatic yet serene. He was rather enthralled in his presence. The monk blessed them and as Richard was leaving, it occurred to him to take a photograph of the monk. Richard requested permission to take a photo. Surprisingly for Richard, the monk declined. He responded on the lines that as he was a monk, a holy man in spiritual pursuits, holy men don’t like being photographed. He further added that he always avoided being photographed as somehow his photos never worked out. Richard was unrelenting and insistent.  He said he had come all the way from Colombia and was a professional photographer. He even claimed that he almost never got it wrong. Richard even promised to send the monk a copy. The monk said that if Richard was able to capture him on film, he would be happy to receive a copy of his photo. After taking the monk’s photo, Richard left for Bangalore. There were no other photo opportunities in Udupi.

 

    From Bangalore, they went to Shravanabelagola, 144 kms from Bangalore. There is the imposing 57 feet tall monolithic statue of Bahubali Gommateshwara on the top of the  3347 feet Vindhyagiri hill. The statue of Bahubali, sculpted in 983 AD during the Ganga dynasty, is the world's tallest monolithic stone statue carved out of a single granite block. One needs to climb about seven hundred steps to be able to see the statue from near. As Richard was climbing the steps, he found a group of disciples carrying a holy man on a stretcher up the hill. Richard found the image fascinating and couldn’t resist taking a picture. That was slide number 27. 

 

    As MC got us refills of the world’s richest coffee, Richard continued with his narration. The missing slide number 26 was the photo he had taken of the Udupi  monk. He couldn’t figure out what happened to the slide, after he developed the roll. Each and every slide of the roll was there except the slide which had captured the photo of the holy man. Such a thing had never happened in his professional career- as if someone had neatly incised a slide, leaving no trace at all. 

 

    Richard then dimmed the lights again and asked us to look carefully at slide number 27. It was the slide of the holy man on a stretcher being carried up the hill of Shravanabelagola by his disciples. The photograph was crystal clear, every detail was visible. One could see the holy man in saffron robes on the stretcher and the top of the shoulders of the disciples. Richard asked us to look at his face. There was just an outline and a white patch. There was no face.

 

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