Of course I am proud of the words he used to describe me. I am proud of the connections he fostered between so many people and me.
I still don’t have words to describe or understand the miraculous bond we shared. How did he see in me what I was not aware of? How did he see what had become dormant…why was he so determined to help me find my voice?I’m going to sit down and write it all down. I’m going to tell you and tell myself the whole story.
Rest in Peace, Roger Ebert.
I believe @natashabadhwar is a miraculous Tweeter. Notice with what love she selects every word. And from such a warm heart.
— Roger Ebert (@ebertchicago) April 25, 2010
Among other roles, I have also been a Cameraperson with a News Channel. Thankfully I burnt out of that role early enough. Climbed out of that hole and lay vertical on the ground, looking at the sky, till a crow flew by.
Composing pictures of dead people, and doing shot breakdowns of the details of air crashes, bomb blasts, massacres and other disasters were some of the unexpected things I found myself doing. My bigger shock was not having to do it, but how fairly simple and automatic it was. Even if I would close my eyes after composing and roll camera with eyes wide shut.
Sometimes I would come back to office, lock myself in the washroom and cry till I felt better. (and then proceed on the next shoot). Sometimes it took 8-9 years before a few words agreed to come tumbling out and at least describe the actions. Not yet the feelings, though.
Mumbai Rajdhani arrives in Delhi,
Straight to work from a holiday
Natasha, you have a shoot with Sanjay Ahirwal
Drive to airport
Board Airforce flight
with George Fernandes
What’s the story, Sanjay?
Indo-Gangetic Plains from my window seat
Wheat squares, meandering river, shades of brown
disembark, chopper waiting for us on same runway
Gaps in the chopper floor
Green countryside, rivers
Hovering over a village
There was a massacre last night
Bodies in lines
Gashes, big wounds
kept on display
for ministers, media
Dead faces, dead eyes
hand held camera
the STENCH of death
flies buzzing so loud
Jostling to get the shots
LS, MS, CU
Roll camera, close my eyes
hold my breath
Sound of another chopper
Run for the shot,
sound bite of minister
I’m walking backwards, running backwards, getting his shot as he walks towards the
Plug the mike, get the bloody audio
Sanjay holding me
Lens full wide, focus on minimum,
George mumbles something
Looks adequately stricken
My face. My face.
Something died in me that day
But I lived.