‘Can you please stand a little closer”, my 14-year-old son, Sid, called out. My husband and I huddled a bit closer as Sid positioned his camera on the tripod. He eyed through the view finder and smiled satisfactorily. “Now, switch on the torch light of your phone and move your hand slowly”, he instructed.

“How long do you think this will take”, I whispered to my husband. “Well, he is a perfectionist — so, this will take a while”, he sighed with a smile. I had to agree. During our vacation this summer, Sid held on to his dear camera and went about taking unending pictures. At first, it was a simple hobby to pursue. Sid froze many glorious moments — the bright night sky, the moist sugary treat we indulged in or the lazy afternoon we spent in the train. But, soon, Sid began to experiment — a drop clinging to the leaf-tip, a picture through a soap bubble and now this — Sid was hoping to capture a heart from the light of our phones against our backdrop. “It will be perfect”, I heard Sid from behind the camera, “remember, not to shake the image. Each of your hands should draw one half of the heart in the air”, he instructed and clicked his fingers — probably thrilled with his ingenious idea. “Don’t start till I ask you to”, he called out as he pressed some buttons.

A white limousine with a bunch of teenage children passed by. The children looked at us and screamed. I laughed because, it felt strange standing there on one end of the famous chain bridge in Budapest. The bridge stretches across the Danube river. Beautifully decked cruise liners gently rocked in the river, loud music from the restaurant on the river side filled up the warm summer sky and the busy traffic made the bridge clank and thud. I looked around feeling a bit awkward, “How long?”, I pleaded with Sid.

“Almost done”, Sid seemed excited, “Now”, he said.

My husband and I quietly motioned the half heart from the top and met with the other half below. “I wonder how the film stars feel doing ridiculous things like this while people stare at you”, I murmured to my husband.

“Let us humour him”, my husband chuckled. He was clearly enjoying the attention Sid was showering. “I think we should enjoy this role reversal”, he said thoughtfully.

I couldn’t agree more.

“You guys moved”, Sid called out as he stared at the picture displayed on his digital screen.

“Let’s try this one more time”, he declared , “this time, move your hand slowly but keep your body still,” he instructed.

My husband and I looked at each other. As we giggled like teenagers, I was reminded of the numerous little moments when I held the camera aimed at little Sid. It was a massive 3.5 mega pixel camera with a tiny screen. Little Sid always cringed when he saw that gadget. He hated to be photographed. He always hid under the sheets, turned his face away, or moved so vigorously that I would always be left with a grainy picture. Many times, he would scream “noooooooo”, and I would look around embarrassed wondering what the others would think of me. So, the only alternative I was left with was to click stealthily. They were candid shots but sometimes I wished Sid smiled at the camera.

Now, standing at one end of the chain bridge, I watched Sid. The little plump kid was now a lanky teenager who lugged his camera everywhere and was asking us to stand, smile, smile a little longer and freeze the moment for posterity. I suddenly heard Sid call out “That’s a perfect shot! Look ...”

Staring at us was a glowing heart against our silhouette. I am not sure if it is a great picture, but when Sid hugged the two of us in that warm summer night, it certainly felt like a glorious moment to be frozen for a long time. In times to come, who knows how many such moments will we be granted but this, I shall cherish for a long time indeed.

Sudha Subramanian is an author and freelance writer based in Dubai.