Brajesh Singh has led many companies since he was 29 years of age, which was two decades ago. That’s commendable but today I write about his exceptional talent as a photographer, and he chose one the toughest genre—that of wildlife photography. He’s an optimist. And, life is unpredictably beautiful in all its manifestations—as we realise in retrospect.
Brajesh is a man of high emotional quotient, and, by his own admission, early success had made him ‘haughty’. Pride kills humility, and that’s not good. At the age of 32, he had a health scare, which was like a reality check. He was advised a brain surgery as a treatment. He took a break from his hectic corporate life to recuperate in nature. He turned to photography, rather, photography picked him, and armed with a camera, he ventured into the jungle to shoot animals and nature in its pristine beauty.
Being in nature to him is like ‘bipassana’ which means ‘to look within' and have a silent inner dialogue. He seeks a critical balances in life that pristine nature symbolises to him—be it in a physical realm, or psychological or spiritual. Life in Delhi is polluted, lays emphasis on the ‘thought pollution.’ We are connected to the whole world by way of the Internet, but lose bearing of our inner self.
‘Nature healed me,’ he says. This is how it happened. Sighting a tiger in the wild is a propitious occurrence. But it seemed that nature performed for Brajesh to usher a life-long passionate association. In one his early trips, mounted on a jeep, he saw a tigress walk out of a pool of water, drenched, a tiger waiting in the grass, and they soon mated, oblivious of their presence. He struggled with his camera, in those initial days used to operate it on autopilot, but got some images, others were blurred.
Brajesh was initiated to a life close to wilderness. His need to escape to nature is compelling, and happens every few weeks. He built a home in nature, the peripheries of Kanha National Park in Madhya Pradesh. He visits there regularly, with his family and friends, also alone, and sometimes sleeps on the roof under the starry sky, and supports the local tribals who help him maintain the places.
He seeks a critical balances in life that pristine nature symbolises to him—be it in a physical realm, or psychological or spiritual. Though, he has material comforts, a swanky car, a lovely home and not to forget the cottage in the wilderness, and his son is studying design in a leading school in Milan, and yet the material world doesn’t define him.
Wilderness is soothing. And there’s nothing wild about jungles, it’s a symphony of sorts, where things happen for the ‘need’ and not ‘greed’ and the wild animals are predictable and they don’t do nothing that’s not instinctive. This is so graphically depicted by a picture he took: a woman is working in the field, two antelopes stand attentively in the grass, as a tiger walks past the muddy road, nobody is hassled, though are acutely aware of each other's presence. The tiger is well-fed at that point in time and so is not dangerous. ‘Homo sapiens are the worst animal,’ he stresses.
He has taken many such brilliant pictures. ‘You’re an artist,’ I told him. Photography and his love for nature is reflective of that. At the same time, he’s remained a corporate guy bubbling with ideas, and a man of action. Nature empowers him, and gives him a nuanced perspective on life, at work and at home.
A family man, hails from the Bundelkhand region, lost his father a couple of years ago, his absence has a lingering presence in his life. His house, spic and span, classy, user friendly, full of light, and minimalist in an aesthetic sense, is reflection of his state of mind, and being.
And being in nature to him is like vipassana (a meditation technique to understand things as they truly are by observing from a state of tranquillity, awareness, and mindfulness), which he explains, is actually pronounced as ‘vi-pashyanna’ which means ‘to look within' and have a silent inner dialogue.
Life in Delhi is polluted, and he lays emphasis on the ‘thought pollution’ which is debilitating. We are connected to the whole world by way of the Internet, but lose bearing of our inner self.
A thinking person, a conscientious man, and the universe seems to guide him, and inspire him to make decisions of life. For instance, last year his son, Ketav, hadn’t even turned 18, made up his mind, he wanted to study design in Milan after finishing school.
Brajesh, having recently lost his father, wanted his son around, on the informed advice of some friends, and go abroad only to pursue post-graduation. Ketav was adamant. So was Brajesh.
A compromise was reached, which was more of a challenge. Milan cannot be an escape from the highly competitive design schools in India, where thousands of pupils compete for a few hundred seats. Ketav was asked to get into the top design schools in India; a precondition to go and study in Milan.
Ketav succeeded with flying colours. Brajesh kept his word. Now, for nearly a year and half, Ketav is giving wings to his vision, pushing boundaries, thinking bold and different, designs, art or sculpture. The father-son duo are the best buddies. And they both are satisfied men.
Wife Charu feeds the family hot chapatis, helps relatives in distress, is a painter, and she is the force behind the father-son-duo's seamless life. Brajesh shares his passion for nature with her in their own quintessential ways.
‘I don’t know if I’d be here (Delhi), there’s a great need to go to the wilderness, ' he says, a sentiment echoed by Charu, and this may happen tomorrow or the day after. They just pick bags and leave, and recuperate in nature; when back in Delhi, they spread happiness.
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