Frozen in time, every picture tells a story

the albums the way I’m preserving them? Will my children be interested? Maybe they’ll frame a couple of our pictures and put them up in their homes but where will all my albums, so lovingly tended to all those years of familial, social and professional life go?

My mind went reminiscing my co-brother in London. Someone who may be crazier than me in possession of albums, he moved to England in the ’60s. The loft in his house has the albums stacked neatly. He has always had the latest of the cameras from the box types to the modern ones. He has pictures of him being seen off at Palam airport in Delhi in 1964, where some 50 members of the family are seen bidding him adieu. Then all photos of his visits to foreign lands, his children and other events are in his treasure trove.

When we visited him 15 years ago, one day, I found him sitting in the loft sorting the photos. He had kept some albums, a large number, aside. When asked why, he smiled. When he was done, I helped him carry the separated albums to the garage. “Look brother, I’m retired for the last decade. Even I did not have time to visit my albums, and who after me is going to take care of them? I’ve kept some for the kids separately.”

In hindsight, I too realise and appreciate his viewpoint.

While absorbed in thoughts, suddenly the character from my albums, manifested himself in front of me. It was me. A sevenmonth-old baby; a group class photo at school; a collegian; an officer under training; my better half; my children and parents; colleagues and staff; the fields and old house; my book launches; medals and recognition; the retirement parade; farewell dinner; grandkids; and my golfing.

Having recovered from the reverie, I found myself shifting some albums to the garage.

THE LOCKDOWN WAS AN OPPORTUNITY TO DIG INTO OLD ALBUMS AND I FOUND SOME PHOTOS FROM THE POLICE TRAINING DAYS