Civic Sense? What’s That?
Caption: Indians have a global reputation for lacking civic sense, and it all starts at home. The picture captures a classic example—people casually climbing onto the statue of His highness Ramavarma at Thekkinkadu Maidanam, turning a tribute into a playground. Respect for history and public spaces? A lesson yet to be learned.
As a photojournalist, I’ve witnessed my fair share of madness—some tragic, some absurd, and a few that straddle the fine line between both. One such day, laughter and grief mingled in a way I never imagined.
It was the kind of day where death and dark humor stood side by side. An irate elephant had turned on its own mahout, swinging him like a rag doll before trampling him to death. The crowd was frozen in horror, unsure whether to flee or pray. Then, as the elephant momentarily turned its attention elsewhere, chaos broke loose.
That’s when I noticed people sprinting out of a nearby shop. At first, I thought nothing of it—just another wave of terrified bystanders making a run for it. But then, in the blur of motion, one man caught my eye. His face was completely powdered white. My first thought? A painter caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. But no, it was far more bizarre than that.
The man had been in the middle of a facial at a beauty parlor when the elephant’s rampage began. Trapped inside, he had no choice but to wait until the moment was right to escape. And when he finally did, he burst onto the street in full spa treatment mode—a face mask still perfectly intact, looking more ghostly than groomed as he bolted for safety.
The absurdity of the sight was too much. In a moment so charged with grief, fear, and adrenaline, a few of us, including other reporters, found ourselves unable to hold back our laughter. We had just witnessed an elephant claim a life in the most brutal fashion, yet here we were, cackling at the sight of a man fleeing for his life with a half-done beauty routine. It was wrong, but it was real.
That day, we cried for a life lost. And we laughed—hard—for the ridiculousness that life sometimes throws our way. As a journalist, you don’t get to choose the emotions the world presents to you. You just capture them all.
As a photojournalist, I’ve had my fair share of encounters with the police. Some amusing, some frustrating, but all educational in their own way. One such experience, however, had a delicious twist of retribution—served not by me, but by fate itself.
It all began one evening on Willingdon Island, near ATS Premium Bar. I had just wrapped up work and, admittedly, had a drink. As I was making my way home on my bike, a police jeep flagged me down. The officer asked if I had been drinking. Knowing better than to lie, I admitted it. That honesty cost me—I was fined for driving after consuming alcohol, and my bike was impounded at the island police station. They were kind enough to let me take an auto home and asked me to return the next day to pay the fine and complete the documentation.
When I arrived at the station the next morning, I was greeted by a familiar face. The officer on duty was someone I had seen numerous times at press conferences—one of those self-important men in uniform who loved basking in the glory of their ‘heroic’ criminal catches. As journalists, we had dutifully clicked away and published their tales of bravado. But today, the roles were reversed. I was the one under their authority.
After handing in my paperwork, I instinctively took a seat in the visitor’s chair, expecting a routine process. That’s when the officer turned to me with a smirk and said, “You may be known to me, but now you are an offender. You have no privileges here.” The words stung, not because they weren’t technically true, but because they carried an unmistakable tone of intimidation and an air of unnecessary superiority. I could sense the pleasure he took in putting me in my place, as if he had been waiting for this moment. I let it slide. After all, there was no point arguing with authority.
But fate has a way of settling scores.
A few weeks later, I was on assignment in front of the Taluk Office, where a scuffle had broken out between the police and student union members. As always, my camera was ready, capturing the raw, unfiltered moments of the chaos. And there it was—the perfect shot. Through the mayhem, I caught an unknown fist landing a well-aimed punch right between the helmet and face of none other than the very officer who had ‘put me in my place’ that day at the station. The irony was exquisite.
The next day, as the photograph made its way around the newsroom and likely through police circles, I could only imagine his embarrassment. He, who had once taken pleasure in making me feel small, now had to endure the sniggers of his own colleagues. Retribution, indeed.
The lesson? Power dynamics shift when you least expect them. And as a journalist, your camera will always be the ultimate equalizer.
During the Pepsi series in Sri Lanka, as Team India went through the motions of their field exercises, an unexpected coach joined in—a street-smart canine stretching with perfect form, as if to show them how it’s really done! At a time when India struggled with both form and attitude, this four-legged fitness guru seemed to have the right message: Stretch more, slack less!
At Fort Kochi Beach, while the men enjoy the salty breeze, the women get down to some “serious business”—a classic Kerala-style lice hunt! Who needs spa treatments when friendship comes with free head checks? Now that’s what you call true work-life balance!
At Kalamassery Medical College, tensions flared as police and medical students clashed, with both sides claiming injuries. But a lighter
Calm After the Storm Caption: In the fading light, silhouetted figures guide a tranquilized elephant onto a jangar, bringing an
“Strings of passion, echoes of mystery—Balabhaskar in his element during a Kochi concert, years before a tragic accident and a tale that left more questions than answers.”
“Pure joy takes flight! Two children leap into Punnamada Lake, embracing the spirit of Alleppey on the eve of the iconic Nehru Boat Race.”
At the Palluruthy Temple elephant mela, a policeman leans in to sniff a mahout, checking for signs of intoxication—an improvised test in an era when breath analyzers were rare. With towering elephants nearby, ensuring the mahout’s sobriety is a matter of safety for both man and beast