I am S. Keerthi, a Class 12 student of the Government Model School in Tenkasi district. It is through my school that I got to participate in a year-long workshop in photography. And until then, believe me, I used to think that photographs are taken only during weddings and big events. For the first time I understood that one can document the lives and struggles of working-class people like us through photos. And they can portray us with dignity.
One day workshop facilitator told me about a photo exhibition on working people’s lives and placed a camera in my hands. During the next three days I was supposed to try my hand at documenting lives. I was lost. On day one I had no idea about how to shoot, or what should be the subject of the photo documentary. “Don't search for a story somewhere else, far away. It always happens in front of you.” I remembered my trainer’s words.
I recalled the story I had read in the workshop Life of my mother – in the light of a lamp post. And I thought of following my mother around to understand her struggle, and to document her life. I talked a lot to my mother during this time, watching her work from early morning to late night. It was through this documentary that I understood what a tough life my mother lived. Her name is S.Muthulaksmi, and she is 42 years old. She is a super bold and gorgeous woman.
She is one who has sacrificed her own dream for us. Earlier my father used to run a small shop in the village. In his younger days, father used to go out in search of work. Then my grandma borrowed 2,000 rupees and gave it to him to start a shop in their own place. Using his bicycle he would go to a nearby village to bring some stock on the cycle and start the work. That was in 1997.
But in 2016 an unfortunate accident happened. It was two months since mother had started learning MS Office in a nearby village. She wanted to go to college also and pursue B.A.(Tamil). But just then my father, brother and I got hurt in an accident. My father’s leg got badly injured and he needed an operation. My brother and I got away with small bruises on our legs. Mother did not have enough money then to get father’s surgery done. But she somehow raised it, taking loans from relatives and by pledging some jewellery of hers. She raised the three lakh rupees needed. But all this meant more responsibilities for her.
It put a full stop to her own dreams. She never spoke about how she felt about it all. She always thought that it was her duty to love her family. She had made herself invisible. This is why I decided to document her life. When I submitted the photo documentary in school and it got selected for the exhibition in Chennai, my parents were so proud of me. My father always wanted to learn photography. He was excited now about my journey.
The first thing I saw when I went to the exhibition hall was a photograph of my mother on the banner. I was overwhelmed. Many artists, journalists, and photographers, even some foreigners, visited the exhibition. Some of them took my autograph on postcards. Others had encouraging things to say about my work. But the two people who could not come to see my exhibition were my parents. When we were winding up our exhibition, I knew my mother was busy doing the accounts and continuing to live through the struggles of her life.
I still remember when I took my first photo of my mother with that camera in hand, and the joy and emotions on my mother’s face when she saw the photograph.
