Drawing from a meeting past

The scene that comes to mind was the event in Singapore in Little India about 6:30 am in the shadow of an almond tree. The early mix of scents of strong milk tea, to dust, to diesel soot was still distinct. The day was still early and these pungent scents were not yet mixed, it allowed for savoring of each in their best form.

My own coffee was still cooling.I had not acclimated my palette to the super sweet tea in the gentle little glass servings that were tinkling in the background as the boy was attending to new customer orders. For now I would have to continue with coffee and later try again the tea before the sun set. Some conversations were starting and some papers were rustling, but I was happy to enjoy my coffee and the still cool of the early morning.

The crash of noise was simply intolerable as the lorry interrupted everything with the lumbering chug of the diesel and the “pist”of the exhaust gasket that needed attention. The damn thing parked or stopped off to one side and gladly turned off. I could not have been more distracted. All one could regard now was the quiet of the restored morning and the full round smells of the diesel soot low in the air.

The driver was with a traditional sarong dress that was held up by some magical engineering under a stomach of great satisfaction and even power. I didn’t like the fabric print and I didn’t like him. He lumbered as the truck did and took the table beside me and in front, his cigarette smell now pushed away the diesel soot smell and I looked into the coffee cup to decide how much longer I would stay. He had jet black hair and a darkened face with even darker patches of sad cheeks and stark white razor stubble that contrasted to hold your attention for an impolite long stare. I wondered if he was here for the whole morning.

All before me was only this one figure when off to the right now came two more figures that brought away your attention into something altogether different. Two men approached slowly and with their shoulders drooped and hands behind them in the small of their back. They were cautious and overly respectful. They had tension and were sad looking.

With only waddling of the head the shorter man intruded into the space and caught the driver’s stare. He muttered somethings in the tongue of Chennai and weaved his head as those folks are apt to do when they are acting irresponsible and demure. I wish I knew what he had to say. From longer away than a whole meter and a half the short man reached out with a book and turned over the records of the night's action or take? The driver who should now be called the boss took the book with hardly a second glance and not even a response. The tension wasn’t so high any more, but I wished I had taken the image that happened when the book just transferred from one hand to the other.

The lens would have to have been a 20 or at least a 24mm and the dark skin underexposed against the far background white wall across the street would have been an interesting and still a nothing field or background. The overhead almond tree made things cool and shady enough for comfort and blue enough for B&W to really stand things out with a yellow or better a red filter; 125/sec would have done it at f5.6 and later try to dodge in some details of the faces for clarity and some expression.

I was biting a lip for what just occurred and thought better for trying to raise the camera now and catch something or anything. It was all too late though the figures retired to their place across the street by some open loading doorway and the boss had his book and the tea just delivered.

This is the way it had to be. There may be a place or chance again the next morning or I might only have this image imprinted for a keepsake, but the elements, the light and the chance sequence was not to repeat ever again.

                                                                      FC