It was a foggy day in Venice. Cold too. A stiff wind whipped the waves into a bit of white-capped frenzy. Dark, moody, utterly captivating. We were ensconced in the coziest corner of a café, hands cupped around steaming cups of tea. Ma sighed, looked at me and repeated her stock phrase throughout our trip, ‘It’s so beautiful. Why don’t you take some photos?’
October 2017 was when we went on a soul-satisfying road trip to Italy – we drove down from the snow-flecked Italian Alps in Bormio (Lombardy) to the beguiling lagoon called Venice and then onwards to the undulating charm of Tuscany. My mother was yet to be diagnosed with what turned out to be a rather cruel disease. Something that has taken away her freedom to not only be mobile but also every aspect of leading a normal life. At that time, however, she had difficulty in walking. Though she could manage short distances with the help of a walking stick, the need of the hour was a wheelchair. In Lombardy and Tuscany, the wheelchair made an appearance at sightseeing spots – rest of the time we were in the car, drinking in the scenery. But when it came to Venice, obviously there was no driving. The wheelchair became a constant companion. Thankfully, the excellent special needs facilities everywhere – from the vaporettos (water buses) to museums – made everything accessible. Venice worked its magic on Ma. At one point in time, she was a promising painter. But then, as they say, life happened. I was hoping the trip, especially Venice, would reignite her lost passion for art. Though Ma was mesmerized by Venice, at the same time she felt bad. She knew how much I love to capture a place through my roving lens. And here my hands were constantly on the handles of the wheelchair, my camera just out of reach in a dangling bag. Correction. She didn’t feel bad; she felt terrible.
I did the next best thing. Explored Venice at night. After a day of soaking in the sights, I dropped Ma off at our B&B, had dinner, tucked her in bed, and went out with my camera. And that's how I got 'The Long Wait' – a gondolier waiting patiently at a gondola station, near the legendary Rialto Bridge. An area that heaves with tourists throughout the day. But late at night, you have the place to yourself.
Some months later, I chanced upon JoAnn Locktov's open call to professional and amateur photographers. She was looking for black and white photos of Venice that captured an unusual side of Venice. I submitted ‘The Long Wait’ and it made the cut to be published in ‘Dream of Venice in Black and White’ – an anthology that celebrates the timeless appeal of Venice through over 50 black and white photos shot by photographers from 10 countries.
Almost a year later since our trip, I showed my mother the book. Her eyes lit up. She first thought it was a book on Venice. I then told her that one of my photos is in it. And despite her condition, she managed a bright smile. She no longer felt guilty that I wasn't able to do justice to Venice through my lens.
(Dream of Venice in Black and White is now available a click away at http://bit.ly/DreamVeniceBlackWhite
Here's one of the latest reviews by Lonely Planet.https://www.lonelyplanet.com/…/timeless-beauty-venice-black…)