What I Learned from Working with Photographers

I’m quite lucky in that most of my editors trust me to find and work with a photographer that I like, and because of this, I have some idea of how the assigning and selection process works.

I know some photographers who are amazing (both personally and professionally– as a policy, I don’t work with difficult people), and I keep a list handy. Whenever I have a new project for which I need photography, I just go through my list to see (a) who would be a perfect fit, (b) whether or not that person is available.

Invariably, I end up working with select photographers several times.

I’ve found that each photographer has his or her own specialty. There’s a photographer who works on a daily rate, and will produce the best images within hours. I’ve seen him at work (and heard from others) and everyone agrees that he just gets in there, gets the work done, and gets out. There is no ambiguity, no long discussion on how the pictures should look, no handholding. You tell him you need such-and-such pictures, you’re guaranteed amazing, incredible, well done such-and-such pictures. The last time I worked with him, he got me over a hundred incredible pictures in two days of work. My editor was floored. Because he works on a daily rate though, I can’t recommend him for long-term investigations.

There are a couple of photographers I know who are good for that. They don’t excel at the day-to-day assignments, and fail to produce ten good shots from a quick day of work. They’re good, sometimes great, photographers, but they can’t work quickly. Those are people who can be great for long-term projects, because they need time to come up with brilliant pictures (and hence can’t ask for a per-day rate).

There is a photographer I know who is completely unafraid to get into dangerous situations. He was smack dab in the middle with the Indian forces during the Mumbai attacks and has proven repeatedly the ridiculous lengths to which he’ll go to get a picture. There’s another who is fantastic at getting celeb shots (he can claw his way through almost anything).

I still prefer photographers who can speak a bit of Hindi, no matter their nationality. A British photographer I love to work with knows how to tell people to stand here, there, or over there. He can ask them to smile, not smile, sit or stand. He can explain quite effectively what he needs them to do, in a manner that makes them feel immediately comfortable with him. This makes my job easier because he’s not dependent on me to do the translation.

In certain stories, I will only use a Hindi-speaking photographer, because the story calls for it. I very rarely have time to interview someone and then sit down and explain to the photographer (I do most of my interviews in the local languages, and have no use for a paid translator). If I need the photographer to understand the story as we’re speaking so he can shoot accordingly, I’ll need someone who can understand the language.

Why am I telling you about photographers? Because that’s the way editors think about writers as well. So-and-so can do great human-interest stories, so-and-so has great business connections, so-and-so can’t write a word of English but can charm any politician, so-and-so is only interested in long-term investigative work.

A lot of people will advise you to generalize. I’m not one of them. When you tell editors that you’re available for “anything,” you’re not going to be top of mind when they have a specific need. You want them to think of you when they have projects that are right for you.

Being a good writer or photographer is necessary, but that’s the basic requirement. More than that, it’s about what you bring to the table.

What do YOU have that others don’t. What work makes you the happiest? It’s something worth thinking about.

Fasting and Feasting

It’s Karva Chauth today, which means millions of women in India got up this morning, ate before sunrise, and will keep a fast through the day (no food or water) until they’ve glimpsed the moon at night and prayed for their husbands’ long life.

I’m up and I’ve had a mini-breakfast with my mom, who is keeping the fast and even though I try each year to be around for her, I’m not always successful. As a child, I loved accompanying my mother to all the ceremonies. In the evening, she’d dress up in her finest clothes, make a plate full of food, and go out with all the neighborhood women. They’d sit in a circle exchanging the plates and listen to stories of the significance of the holiday from a priest, and in the evening, my father and I would keep an eye on the news and go the park to see if the moon could be spotted yet, while mom asked, childlike, “Can you see it yet? Now? Now? Now?”

I couldn’t wait to be old enough to be able to keep the fast with her. Now that I’m old enough and getting married, and traditionally, should be keeping the fast, I don’t want to. I realize now that the significance of the holiday, for me, was never about some imaginary future husband, but my mother. It was the one day when I’d look at her with awe and realize what an amazing woman and wife and mother she was and is. So while I won’t be keeping the fast today, or ever, I’ll come by my parents every year and celebrate the holiday with the person it’s always been about: the woman I’ve always wanted to be like.

Breakfast’s over and I’m about to go sit outside with my book and watch the sunrise. It looks like it’ll be a beautiful day.

Catching Up

I’m slowly easing my way back into work. There’s a lot to catch up on. Typically, when I go on holiday, I make sure to check the news at least once a day in case there’s a breaking news story. This time, however, I knew that unless it was something massive, I wasn’t going to care much, and didn’t check anything for days.

I have quite a few pieces coming out one after the other in the coming days, and now that I’m back, editors have promised to get back to me on three ideas that were in limbo. Looks like travel is on the cards again.

I’m excited about being back to work after the holiday, so expect frequent posts on the blog. In the meantime, here’s some published work for you to check out:

For TIME, I profiled Dr. Bindeshwar Pathak, someone I consider a personal hero, and was delighted to meet in person. When my editor asked me if I’d like to interview him, I almost jumped with joy. I was even more thrilled to find that he’s even more gracious and wonderful than he comes across in his work.

http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,1924149_1924154_1924429,00.html

I also have a piece in the Indian magazine The Caravan, titled “Reality of the Façade” about the world’s obsession with virginity and how Indian middle-class women are opting for hymenoplasties. I wrote on this topic once before for a women’s magazine in India, and was very disappointed because not only had the editor misrepresented the people I interviewed, but also sensationalized it to an extreme (the piece wasn’t run by me before it was published, or I would have asked for my byline to be removed).

Thankfully, The Caravan’s editors are wonderful, and I’m very happy with the published piece. The article’s not online yet, but it will be, and I’ll let you know when it’s up. (Or pick up a copy.)

Stupid Together, Stupid Forever

Love is being stupid together. – Paul Valery

Sam and I are engaged. His parents flew in from the UK for a couple of weeks, and we had an informal engagement ceremony in which we promised to be stupid together forever. I’ve been calling him  fiancé every chance I get. Good morning, fiancé. Should we go out for dinner, fiancé? I think I’ll keep you, fiancé.

There are still several months to go until the deed is done, but I don’t ever remember being this deliriously happy.

Congratulations, fiancé.

–

Sam, his mother, my mother, and I, went shopping for our wedding outfits. There were way too many options.

Who said wedding planning is hard? We finished and finalized everything in three days. All that’s left to do is invite people and show up. (Red is the bridal color, and the sari below is not the one I chose.)

We did everything in a mix of cultures. The boy did get down on one knee and propose (British), but he had to do it in front of fifteen people (Indian).

Post-engagement dinner with the folks.

And finally, one of my favorite pictures (taken by photographer and friend Elena Rego when she came to visit us in Berkeley).