[Creative Writing]

Short story

Frozen moment

Keerthi Wijesinghe

the shutterbug: Jagath entered the bar and slowly walked up to his customary table and sat down wearily. At this time of the morning the bar was almost empty. They opened sharp at 11 in the morning and the die hard customers who patronised it were patiently waiting outside for the opening time.

They were the 'drunkards' or the 'losers' who always sat by themselves nursing a drink deep in thought. Some of them left after some time and returned in the evening to stay till closing time. The waiters knew that the 'mahattayas' had problems and alcohol helped them to forget the problems temporarily. As Jagath took his seat, the waiter brought his usual drink with a bottle of soda and retreated quietly.

No words were spoken as the waiters knew that the regulars were not in a talking mooed at least in the morning. He looked around and recognised the regulars. One or two of them nodded their recognition but all of them preferred to have their drinks alone.

"Jagath Perera, the shutterbug par excellence", they used to call him. He was the best news photographer who was always there at the 'right moment' to capture the action. His colleagues envied him and the competitors were jealous of him.

He could easily walk into any newspaper office and claim a job! In fact he received offers from all the leading newspapers to be their news photographer but Jagath was happy where he worked. His editor was proud to have him and their sales increased thanks to his exposes which were awesome.

Still a bachelor who lived with his mother, he had no care in the world. Photography was his passion and he treated his job very seriously. Jagath's friends used to joke about his bachelorhood. "Who wants to marry you machan.

You would grab your camera and run out of the house in the middle of the night with no explanation whatsoever to your wife." They would roar with laughter and Jagath just smiled knowingly. "Photography is my life. Who wants a woman when you have a camera" he would say while trying to capture a seagull who lost its bearings and ended up in the Fort.

He knew that news photography was a dangerous occupation. Twice his camera was grabbed and destroyed by angry mobs when he tried to capture them on his lense. He was stoned, clubbed and abused in filth many times. He gingerly touched the jagged scar on his forehead which was a result of a blow from a broken bottle.

The wound needed six stitches. He was back at his desk the next day surrounded by his friends and colleagues who wanted to know exactly how it happened. "Minor matter machan," he would say with a big smile on his face. "I did a vanishing trick before he could hit me again. Thank god my camera is safe."

While Jagath took the photographs, his colleague Prabath did the writing. Their ever faithful driver Piyadasa was the third member of the 'hot news' team. Piyadasa ran red lights, broke all traffic rules and drove at breakneck speed to get them to the hot spots.

They would jump out of the van even before it screeched to a halt and Piyadasa came back after parking the van ready to give them a hand. The trio made an excellent team. Which brought in sensational stories with unbelievable photographs. Timing was the key to their success and they were the first to arrive, first to leave and first to print the story next day.

When the phone rang on their hotline on that fateful day, Jagath had a premonition that something bad was going to happen. His hunches proved to be accurate most of the time.

He dismissed the thought and picked up the phone. "Hurry up and go to Lipton circle. There is a big demonstration by striking hospital workers. I got a tip-off that police are expecting trouble." His editor's voice galvanised Jagath into action.

He grabbed his camera bag and shouted at Prabath, "Let's get to Lipton Circle. Where the hell is Piyadasa?" Piyadasa as always was ready in an instant revving the engine as they scrambled into the van. The short distance to the trouble spot was made in a few minutes. Piyadasa would have broken all traffic rules leaving private bus drivers in the shade!

Their was utter chaos when they arrived at the scene. Jagath started clicking away while Prabath disappeared into the crowd with his ever present notebook. The demonstrators were trying to push the barriers which the police were trying desperately to push back into place. A senior police officer was using a loud hailer screaming at the top of his voice for the crowds to disperse peacefully.

The responses from the crowd were catcalls and abuse in raw filth followed by pelting of stones. Jagath saw two constables with bleeding injuries assisted to a police vehicle by some colleagues. He was able to capture them on camera before they noticed him and advanced menacingly.

Jagath was used to all kinds of intimidation and he retreated before they tried to confiscate his camera. The crowd became more violent and started breaking showroom windows nearby. He could see that police were losing their cool and something serious could happen any moment.

All of a sudden he heard shots being fired at the mob and he froze in his tracks. Luckily, he had the good sense to duck behind a car and avoid getting hit by flying bullets. He was sure that they were using rubber bullets to scare the crowd. People started running helter-skelter screaming and shouting. In a moment the crowd vanished leaving behind, slippers, umbrellas, bags, books, everywhere.

Jagath saw a young woman fallen on the ground holding a young boy on her lap. He ran to her with his camera and started clicking away. 'Police brutality'. This would be the headline in tomorrow's paper with his stunning pictures he thought. The woman was shouting incoherently tears streaming down her face.

The little boy was bleeding from the mouth and gasping for breath. "Please, please help me. My little son is dying," she wailed. She pleaded with Jagath who was trying to take a close-up of the injured child. "Mahattaya, what are you doing? Please, please help me save my child. Police shot him." She cried in anguish.

Two policemen came running and pushed Jagath aside. They carried the bleeding child and ran to the vehicle with the mother in hot pursuit. The vehicle left the scene with tyres screeching and the siren in full blast. Jagath watched the scene helplessly trying to comprehend the enormity of what happened.

Prabath's voice jolted and brought him back to senses. "Machan, lets go. I hope you got all that in your camera. Boy, we got a story of a lifetime. We will make headlines tomorrow. The mad cops shot an innocent boy," he shouted.

Jagath followed him to the van like a man in a trance. He sat in the back seat while Piyadasa was at his best driving at breakneck speed and Prabath shouting excitedly about the mayhem they just witnessed. Jagath closed his eyes and he could see the young woman holding the bleeding son pleading for help.

He opened his eyes and shouted. "Piyadasa, stop the van. I want to get down." Driver obliged and brought the van to a stop. Prabath looked back in shock. "Machan, what is wrong with you. We have a story to tell and a deadline to meet. What got into you?"

"You go and write the story," Jagath spoke quietly.

"But what about pictures?" Prabath shouted.

"There are no pictures," Jagath opened his camera and pulled out the film roll exposing the film.

Prabath watched in shocked silence and muttered, "you are mad."

Jagath got down from the van and walked away from news photography for life.

Jagath resigned from his job the next day much to the surprise of everyone. The editor said that he is prepared to pardon him for the 'grave crime' he committed but he turned down the offer. The story was all over the paper the next day but there was not a single picture! The woman's face and the face of the little boy gasping for breath kept haunting him.

The police have apparently fired a few live bullets and the little boy who came to the OPD with his mother from a far away place off Nivithigala was caught on crossfire and sacrificed his innocent life in vain.

Jagath was approached by a few newspapers to join them but he declined the offers. He was tormented by the incident and started drinking. He took some freelance jobs on and off to survive, to earn enough to buy the liquor. He frequented this bar daily. There were others like him who tried desperately to forget their 'past' taking comfort in the bottle. He knew it was a losing battle.

The scene kept haunting him. 'The frozen moment' that is what the photographers called it. His exquisite timing career. As he got up shakily to leave the bar Jagath looked around and nodded at a 'regular'. Two broken men trying desperately to forget a past that keeps haunting and tormenting them.

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