The other day, I attended my fellow journalist’s son’s marriage. As the wedding rites were under way, an MLA from the Opposition party arrived with a retinue of hangers-on and security men. Wasting no time, he went straight to the mandap to greet the bride and groom, and with equal haste, prepared to leave. But his exit was thwarted by eager selfie seekers, who stopped him in his tracks. The politician happily obliged, grinning ear to ear for their phone cameras.
I couldn’t help but wonder: What’s with this obsession to be photographed with politicians or celebrities? Perhaps it’s the bragging rights it offers — a digital trophy of sorts to flaunt on social media.
There’s an old-school charm to journalism — where the story matters more than the storyteller, and the subject more than the scribbler. Somewhere along the way, this philosophy became unfashionable. Today, it seems to be all about hobnobbing and shoulder-rubbing with the who’s who. As for me, I would rather be invisible than immortalised in a selfie with a celebrity or a politician.
Not judging, just chuckling
Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against my fellow journalists who flash their photographs alongside every notable they have met or interviewed. Some go as far as turning their feeds into a red-carpet scrapbook of handshakes, side hugs, bear hugs and ‘exclusive’ photo-ops. It’s just that, for me, such imagery screams ‘Look who I have met’ rather than ‘Read what I have written.’ Call me old-fashioned, but I’m not comfortable marketing my work by plastering my face next to someone who made headlines.
The amusing part is that this penchant for posting pictures often comes wrapped in the belief that it somehow validates the writer’s credibility. As though standing next to a VIP transfers a sliver of their importance to you. Frankly, I would rather spend my energy polishing my text than perfecting my angles. My words, not my presence, should bridge the gap between the readers and the person I am profiling.
Please, please, don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to play moral cop. If a picture with a politician or film star boosts someone’s self-esteem [or their Instagram likes] who am I to judge? Live and let snap! I have merely chosen a different path, one where the stories are the only souvenirs I take home.
Of course, if you’ve come across any such (candid) photos of me, let me clarify — it was probably the work of our accompanying photographer, capturing the scene as part of the assignment. I assure you, I wasn’t posing!
So, while the world clicks and claps, you’ll find me in a corner with my notepad or voice recorder [now my phone recorder] crafting narratives that [hopefully] outlast the selfies. After all, cameras might capture the moment, but the written word captures the essence.