The Viewfinder....

“Its got to be her!!”, I exclaimed. You could see the long evening sun-rays passing through the glass-pane as it opened into the chaos of the traffic signal below. I knew this genre. It had to be Shreya, even if the photography journal referred to the photographer as “Viewfinder”.

Frantically, I made a call to the journal’s office and tried getting the identity under the garb of a business deal. Viewfinder, apparently, was the only identity those guys knew. It had come from the id viewfinder@gmail.com as part of a contest on skyscrapers.

I wondered, “Why would a free-spirited girl like Shreya use a pseudonym?” She had always been so comfortable being herself. Never a conformist, she was probably the world’s cutest rock drummer. She sported different funky hairstyles all the time. She danced like crazy and her wild laughter was instantly contagious. She traveled far and wild and captured different rustic worlds in her Nikon. She was fond of heights and these skyscraper shots were just one of her many passions. She was a real rockstar!!

The thought of skyscrapers brought me back to the present. How do I find if she was the same wild girl I was so in love with? I wanted to meet her, explain my point of view and …to apologize. She hadn’t given me one chance when she walked out on me during the college farewell. In a few days, she moved to Delhi and we lost complete touch. Its been a long time now but still, few final words needed to be said. All search engines and good ol’ orkut had drawn a miserable blank. Now here I was with an obscure mail id and just a tiny glimmer of hope…

I darted out a business mail to viewfinder explaining I was the editor of a travel magazine and would like to commission a series of photographs on skyscrapers. Two days later, I finally got a reply. The mail thanked me but apologized at rejecting the offer since the id-owner was re-locating to Europe and had an evening flight to catch. I despaired as I continued to the ending line.

Thanking you again.

Regards,

Shreya Ghoshal.

It was her! And she was still Ghoshal! I sat down dejected. I picked the journal and scanned the photograph again. What a glorious shot it was. The delicately carved sky-high window reflecting the urban affluence juxtaposed with the chaos of the traffic below. The traffic seemed stuck at the signal with auto-rickshaws, buses, mercs, all clamoring for that narrow road-strip. And a huge Philips neon sign standing out, contrastingly. There was a Chill-Out Cafe besides that. I go there often with friends. Quite a relaxing place. And …hey, wait-a-minute!

I couldn’t believe myself. The shot was taken right from the building opposite me!! I hurriedly took out my binoculars and scanned all the floors in the building. Ninth, Eighth, Seventh….wait, Eighth again…I could see a tripod at the window.

I ran...