mumbai butterfly
anonymous,
a man in india with seven years experience
metamorphisis diagnosis
Every trip I’ve had always starts with a major fail. Either I don’t get my luggage, I didn’t sleep on the plane because I sat beside a troglodyte or, as in this case, my taxi driver tries to cop a feel.
Since I was a child, I’ve always wanted to go to India. I don’t know why, I can’t remember precisely when this fascination started so if I’ve given you a reason it was more of an estimated/educated guess. For reasons that are still ambiguous – I just had to go.
Since I was 16 years old, and first received my camera with the intent of being a National Geographic photographer I challenged myself to the task of photographing one butterfly. And if I photographed a butterfly – not only capturing it but with good frame – I would instantaneously prove to myself that I am a good photographer. Ever since I’ve started photographing I’ve always been bummed out about myself. Nothing was ever good enough. I always found fault with my pictures.
Day two of Mumbai, India post-pervert and I’m happy to be alive, although slightly jet-lagged. My Bollywood friend was off to work so I decided to go to a nearby cafe called Candies only a short jaunt from the apartment, for breakfast.
As always, the camera was slung around me, hanging out. And in my hands I was holding a bright yellow tray carrying my breakfast, an egg salad sandwich and delicious ice tea.
I climbed the four staircases from the cafe up to its rooftop veranda to sit in peace and get pictures of the murals. Up about halfway I saw a beautiful black and white butterfly. I walked towards it to admire how big it was and it didn’t move. So, one handed I turned on my camera, kept my tray at my left and snapped three shots of it. One in which I am particularly proud of.
my photo of the butterfly
This photo then sparked the idea in my brain that it should replace the elephant i had originally planned on attaining. For the rest of the weeks as I travelled around and ended up in Kaliyampoondi I stayed at Aa orphanage where my best friend Cristina was volunteering at. It was a two-hour drive outside Chennai in the Tamil Nadu region of India. The children there were special and good. Happy, courteous, rambunctious. I walked the kids to school a few times.
I saw butterflies everywhere. To the point where one of the kids drew me a picture of one as a present. One of the bindis I got from a girl I didn’t want to lose so I stuck it on one of the drawings in the pile – not seeing which. Until I unpacked the drawings here in my new apartment and there it was on the butterfly drawing.
So, after traveling to Delhi, Jaipur and Agra I’m back in Bombay with my friend Shak. I meet some of his new friends who also work in Bollywood. After a night of some drinks and eating Punjabi food we wind up talking about tattoos. The two girls say how they want them but don’t want to deal with the pain. We start talking about my tattoos. One of the girls’ boyfriend talks about how he thinks they’re cool but wouldn’t know what to get. Shakun and I both have tattoos.
I mention again how I want to get one before I leave. One of the girls recommends this guy who did her friends recent tattoo. He’s clean and very talented.
So the next day we meet up and I finally decide on the butterfly after all of the very strong messages. We take a rickshaw to a little nook in Mumbai. Kids are playing soccer. There’s a few rainbow-coloured roosters and chickens about. We climb a few staircases and we’re there.
He looks a bit like John Morrison with the curly locks he’s got. Just shorter. But maybe I make the connection as he stands in front of the Jim Morrison poster and calendar on the wall.
I show him the picture of my butterfly, the picture I took. He makes a basic drawing and gets to work. The two girls, sister, Shruti and Kruti came too. Kruti watched my face. Apparently it looked like I was coming out of a deep sleep. The drill was going and it hurt but, I just focused.
butterfly
After it was finished, I admit it turned out bigger then I expected. He added in the white ink – trying to link it to my photo.
The truth is I don’t care how it looks. It’s there and India will be a part of me until I’m dirt in the ground.
“To bare a tattoo, sir, is a lifetime test of endurance.”
