It wouldn't be the slightest bit of exagerration to say that photographers are the bane of every bridegroom (probably the brides too, but at least the end-results are usually favorable in their case!). They make it a point to shine the brightest of lights into your face, and then have you stand in the most awkward of poses (tilt your chin a bit more! Ah, don't show your teeth that much!). And to top it all, they use flashes that would put even lightning bolts to shame. Is it then the least bit surprising that half of the poor bridegrooms' photos have them squinting tiredly at the cameras with a grimace plastered onto their faces?
My case was no different. Even at the best of times, I am not exactly photogenic. But the album for the wedding reception was really carrying things a bit too much. I mean, even my poor father-in-law couldn't recognize me, dammit! Ok, the photographer chap was unobtrusive (as in, he didn't do things like stop guests and ask them to shake hands with me a second time and all that), but hey, f**k unobtrusiveness - its the album that matters, right! And to think we even complimented him on being so unobtrusive. I have a good inkling to give him a piece of my mind the next time I go to my hometown (which is this weekend).
The wedding-photographers, on the other hand, were constantly intrusive. They corrected my posture, continually requested guests to shake hands with us a second time, and to add insult to injury, took separate photographs as well. In on of those 'separate photographs', the guy suddenly jumped up and made a sudden lunge toward my crotch - apparently he wanted to adjust my crumpled mundu. Well, next time you reach out to correct a crumpled mundu, give a fella some warning so that he doesn't think you are giving in to some vile carnal impulse. But to give the fellow his due, he did produce a very nice wedding album. And believe me, with me in it that is no mean achievement.
Know what's funny? Apparently, the American Embassy wants 10 wedding photographs when Smitha appears for her L2 (dependent) visa, along with my renewal. I have a good mind to spring some of the most horrible ones (I have one of mine snarling at the photographer) on the unsuspecting officials, but seeing the ferocious expression on my face they might suspect me of being a terrorist (you see, I speak a 'foreign' language too)!