The Bangalore news photographer

I saw a picture this morning of last night’s rains. People wading through knee-high water. Great effort by the photographer I thought! Perched comfortably on the contraption built to facilitate a human’s morning dispatches I looked at the newspaper's front page again. Many citizens would have had similar thoughts, scanning newspapers from similar contraptions or at the breakfast table. Options vary for newspaper readers although I suspect the toilet seat is a popular choice.

What of the snapper - what kind of response did the display in the morning newspaper cause?

My guess is the person would not have seen the paper at all.

In all probability our snapper was huddled under a blanket. Laid low by shivers, brought on not merely by last night’s outing but from a month-long period of crazy schedules, irregular diets, working in an understaffed office and under demanding bosses. The fickle Bangalore climate would have contributed its share as well. I suspect the city’s weather switch is controlled by a kindergarten kid or an adult with an obsessive compulsive disorder. Rain, heat and cold come and go so quickly it is hard for the human system to adapt. Even a seasoned Banglorean cannot acclimatise that fast. So, a Bangalore newspaper snapper with a complicated life style cannot be expected to.

The possibility of a public display of their work is just not motivation enough for a newspaper photographer to make the trip from the bed to the doorstep. The thought of having to head out later in the day maybe for an assignment similar to last night’s outing kills all other intentions. Staying under the covers is more desired. If the photographer is really fortunate it may be a day off. Off-days for newspaper photographers however, are akin to winning the lottery, so our snapper, if one goes by the frequency of winning lottery tickets announcements in the country, is certainly on an assignment later in the day. So this morning, the journey to the doorstep would have been ruled out.

The rain started at 10 pm last night. It was also raining at Nottingham and the start of India’s Twenty20 cricket match against Ireland was delayed. It was the perfect news to trigger panic in a newspaper editor. If the match was called off, an optional picture would be needed for the front page. The rains were a godsend. Our photographer must have been reviewing the daily album when the night shift editor would have approached the photographer’s cabin. The editor’s call had gotten through. Bangalore’s telephone company is better prepared for the rains nowadays. Telephone cables snap less frequently in thundershowers. Maybe they are stronger or more trees have been cut as a preventive measure – whatever the reason – communication is easier for the newspaper editor than it was for his father, when the latter ran the organisation.

So, our photographer prepares for the assignment and there is a phrase which briefly flickers in the recesses of memory ‘I would not send a dog out on a night like this’. It vanishes as quickly as it surfaced as the sight of vehicles moving slowly through the fierce showers just outside the office catches our photographer’s eye. The camera is whipped out and the shots are taken, but of course these are just a back-up. The low-lying areas of the city are where the action is. Newspaper offices can afford cars nowadays, so our photographer heads out to the action in the four-wheeler. The venue is well-known, years of facing such emergencies having acquainted our snapper with stock locations.

Having arrived at one such location, raincoat and all, a good angle is scouted for. The options are to stand on the roof of the car, the roof of a house or wade knee-deep in water. Our photographer uses all three options, the excitement of exercising a craft suddenly taking over and negating all considerations of possible risks. The rain continues to beat down but our snapper clicks away – unmindful of the drenching. After about 30 minutes, our cameraperson returns to the car and heads back to the office. The sneezes have begun as have the complaints. The driver and the snapper exchange gripes about their seniors, colleagues, editor, salaries, politics and the miserable state of the city, the country and the world. Our snapper reaches office, downloads the pictures, edits on photoshop and transfers it to the city desk.

The match has meanwhile started and pictures flood in on the ticker of Zaheer Khan’s wicket-taking action. Our photographer is watching the match on the office television and cheering on the Indian team unmindful of whether the rain picture will appear on next day’s page or not. That decision is left to the night shift editor.

Zaheer Khan picks up four wickets and India restrict Ireland to a low total. Our snapper decides to head home as the sneezes get more frequent. Home is ten kilometres from the office. The rain has reduced, but ten kilometres in a Bangalore drizzle is still an unpleasant thought. Not too many options for our snapper.

I, meanwhile, surfed the internet, watched India score a comfortable win and crashed. I woke up to see today’s shots of rains on the front page of the newspaper. Maybe the night-shift editor was a kind soul. Maybe further conversations between our snapper and the driver would be less acerbic. Maybe a Bangalore newspaper snapper can hope for a day off soon and maybe announcements of lottery winners will be more frequent.