Nature has a way of holding certain memories forever. May it be a fossil preserved for millions of years or a photograph saved in wallet of a dead soldier; memories are all around us to be shared and passed down forever. Photography is yet another dimension to this concept. I learned this the hard way. There was an evening I cannot forget for the rest of my life. It was holidays and I was in my hometown. I was surrounded by cats as my grandmother was watching them. My latest camera was in action and I was clicking cats. All of a sudden my grandmother requested - "Can you take a photograph of mine?". It was a distraction, however I obliged. Snap. All it took was a fraction of a second. She smiled. She always smiled. The image I clicked was not of any artistic significance. But I preserved it and printed it to hand it over to her because I knew she would value it. Years went by since that day and I finally am back in my hometown. Now I stood in the narrow hospital corridor expecting a miracle to happen, holding her photograph. 

At this moment, my grandmother is battling cancer. The one who always greeted the world with a warm smile can seldom smile. Pain gripped her so tight that all she could do is to utter a few words to express her anguish and agony. We lost her in a world of sedatives and painkillers. All that remains is a skeleton of memories that shaped our lives from the numerous sacrifices she had made. When there were chocolates in the house I never recollect her having one, but she saved them to give it to me. Each time I was about to travel, she came to me with money for the road and a warm kiss on my forehead. It was she who gave me strength to conquer my every dream and overcome nightmares that haunted me. The past seemed to be an echo of an echo of an echo. And here I hold that photograph in which she is smiling from a moment in time that is preserved forever. And I was astonished to find details that I have never noticed before. I failed to see the happiness in her eyes when I clicked the photograph. I do not recollect if I smiled back. The smile went unnoticed even when the photograph was developed and printed. There was a genuine warmth of love that preserved me in her prayers that reflected in that image. Photographers we are who create the images that shape history. Yet at certain moments we realize how careless we can be about treasures that life bring before our eyes. We seldom look at the same image twice even if the photograph is the same. At this moment, all that remained in the room at the end of the corridor was a person who could barely speak a few words. In life, there exists moments which prove that nothing could be planned and we are mere permutations of a choice or an outcome of an event. My realization was that the perceptions by which a photograph was deemed perfect was an illusion. Among images that I have captured none seemed to be more perfect and precious than that photograph which I held in my hands. Justified by a stream of tears, it brought me the face I forever longed to see smile yet one more time. I walked through the narrow corridor leading to her room. As I handed over the photograph to her trembling fingers, our eyes were filled. A long lost memory took us to a time and space that will exist forever in our hearts. Though masqueraded by pain from all dimensions a smile blossomed as memories touched a forgotten moment in our lives.

Learning to let go should be learned before learning to get. Life should be touched, not strangled. 

You’ve got to relax, let it happen at times, and at others move forward with it. 

~ Ray Bradbury