(The days of progress)
The human body is designed fabulously. The skull is the cream to the cake. The lower portion of the frontal bone (of my skull) which is above the orbital cavity, pains. It pains badly. My orbital cavity makes me feel like they’re dug up graves for my eyes. My eyes are buttons that are glued down to their graves. They’ve been in their grave for so long, but they haven’t been put to bed. This situation is a messed up one. But, all my situations are a mess. Pain and chaos are my babies. I’ve made peace with them and we’re in this together. They never leave me and I’ve decided to let them stay. We’re in a relationship now and I can’t break up unless they want me to. But, they love me. They always have and they always will. For once, I know today what commitment is.
It is the nature of love here. If someone loves you a lot, you tend to love back too. Well, for me, I fell in love too with all the negativity in and around me.
It’s late at night now and my head pains. I am peacefully waiting for sleep to come to me but, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be knocking my door. The best thing that one can do is to divert himself from his pain and maybe, he could be pain-free then.
So, I’m going to concentrate on myself, all of me except my head. The ceiling is low and the fan above, with it’s hands, gets closer to my neck. It crawls and crawls and tries to scare me. But, I don’t fear death for, I believe I’m already dead. So, starting from the tip of my toes, I try to relax myself. It’s like I’m asking my body to be good to itself and it’s simply rebellious. My feet and toes feel like they’re curling up on the inside, trying to reach the core of my feet. My feet and every bit of me are made of flesh and blood but, it’s bending like rubber and the pain is getting bitter. Slowly, this feeling spreads upwards and my tummy is the target. My sides feel like they’re folding and enveloping eventually to the pit of my tummy. I feel so flexible and also, so horrible. But, to think about it, I feel like I’m dying. And dying is progress. It is progress in terms of age, reality, mortality and existence. For almost ten seconds, I felt like I sucked up the torn flesh of my face and dying seemed like the best option then.
It’s late afternoon now and my head doesn’t pain. I am peacefully waiting for sleep to come to me but, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be knocking my door. The bed that I’m tucked in slowly consumes me to its center and the blanket rolls over my body tightly. Suddenly, I feel like I’m a newborn baby who’s not allowed to play because his/her organs and muscles are still at its developing stage. The curtains fall off and the flash of sunlight itches my eyes and now, I feel like a potato being grilled or baked in the sun.
My emotions have been imbalanced and challenged, off late. I have been drinking too much coffee to numb my emotions that help me to get past my headaches. And, now my headache is mellowed down and my sleep has gone to sleep. I feel like a peaceful zombie now. I’ve dug my own grave and made myself at home. I can’t wait for sleep to come to me. I can’t wait to go find sleep.
(The days of progress)
Conceptual Photography can be really beautiful. The concept is a must and the photographer’s understanding and sensitivity towards his concept and his camera is what does the magic. Playing with light, I want to capture the essence of death in a human form.
I asked someone to help me with my shoot. She seemed lost and I thought pain can be captured well if the person is experiencing real pain. She was transparent to me and I fell in love with her negative beauty. I planned my set, her costume and props, keeping in mind to render my story in black and white. Blood was the highlight of my concept.
The background was black and she was covered in black too. Her eyes shed tears of blood and her face was calm and at peace. This was the first shot we were working on. She was beautiful and flawless, she didn’t have to use makeup either. Models feel free and expressive, with time. I had given her full freedom to play with blood and the black cloth. She gave me poses I couldn’t imagine. She was personified to death in my head. My love for her and, her love for death grew. We were interconnected and I hadn’t known that capturing the essence of death within her would help her find sleep.
Crafted with brevity for select stories to make certain you see what others don't; Page One is delivered every Sunday
Two exclusive fortnightly newsletters, sent on Saturday alternately
a) Reel and Real with Rony Patra
b) Mixer with Ayush Garg