The Time Trap

There’s a little something about time travel, which people haven’t realized yet. We have a time machine. It’s called a camera.

Have you ever looked at the pictures that you’ve got lying around the house? By pictures, I mean photographs of course. Take me for example. My father asked me to find some photos and bring them to Asansol with me when I came by. I went to our house in Kolkata, after almost two and a half months and was sorting through a ton of pictures. I found a picture of me as a toddler, taken in Puri and another picture of my cousin sister at her 8^th birthday party. I’ve WhatsApped the photo to her but haven’t checked for a reply yet.

The thing is that, we don’t really look at the pictures we have taken, until provoked to do so. Seeing pictures of our dog Gogo, brought back some very happy memories. Seeing a picture of my late paternal grandfather whom I never had the chance to meet also felt surreal.

But the icing on the cake would have to be the pictures of my father as a young boy (aged about 7 or ten) standing on the terrace of our Ballygunge house with a wicked twinkle in his eye.  No wonder, I’m so naughty. Like father like son after all.

So, sixty years of my family's history, featuring baby pictures, young teenaged pictures of my parents and a lot of other people, was enough to send me back in time. 

So, the next time you’re taking a selfie on Park Street, remember that you’re capturing time in a pixelated medium. Some day when you’re older and you just want to go back in time, dig up that album. It’ll be worth it.

I wonder if Mr. H.G. Wells ever wondered about the potential time trapping ability of a camera?

The Bilge Master