First day of Thomas's school, the room was filled with excitement. The shimmering light of the Sun and the melody of the morning birds , looked as if they were cheerful for little Thomas. I was there to witness all this like a meek stranger. Thomas was thrilled of everything he heard of. All the new uniform, bag and books was something enough to give him that toothy grin.
I was there watching Thomas, waiting for the perfect time for the click. I clicked, the flash lit and the shutter closed and I captured this priceless moment. Now this is a beautiful memory. Years pass, we celebrate Tom's fifth birthday. Little Tom playing with his family and friends.
Does he even know what is this day they gathered for? I wonder. All the cake, smiles and wishes was making the kid happy. There I was, again watching Tom, waiting for the perfect time for the click. I clicked, the flash lit and the shutter closed and I captured this precious moment.Now this is a what I call a beautiful memory.
Yong master Tom, shy and tender. Goofing around with his friends and me around his neck. For this was his college farewell party. Waiting for the moment, posing out and looking cool. Full of ideas and schemes, hanging out like wannabe macho dude.
I was there watching Tom waiting for the perfect time for the click. I clicked, the flash lit up and the shutter closed and I captured this moment. Now this is a beautiful memory. I was witnessing this wonders of their life, as I recorded or registered their emotions in life. I boasted that I became the part of their life, their family.
So wrong was I, limiting was my film and tiring was my use. I forgot that I was just a tool and felt sorry for myself, such a fool. I got replaced easily but still I am sure I neither compromised nor changed. My only message to Tom would be live every imperfect shots to your fullest. For you would later laugh to those mistakes that become precious and complete you to become perfect.
Now Tom was mature enough. No more toothy grin or shy. Staring at me, recalling all those imperfect shots which flooded the sweet and sour memories of life which can't be bought back. As tears roll down the cheek of Tom, his small daughter sitting on his lap asked, what I was? He gently replies, "this is a camera, my camera".