I have stopped carrying my camera with me when I travel. That is because I am forgetful and never remember to take it out when I need to record something for posterity. I suppose that’s because I have never been possessed by the urge to click everything in sight.

And now with cameras on mobile phones, one doesn’t really need to carry a separate piece. Not that I use the one on my mobile phone either.

So, many weddings and reunions in the family have gone by and I have not had the pleasure of sifting through images and reliving precious moments. When I ask others (who were always hovering around with cameras and asking us to smile) to send me the photographs, I am assured they will do so soon. Apparently, ‘soon’ means not in this lifetime.

Holidays abroad have also been dealt with as summarily, always in the hope that someone will send me copies of snaps taken in that quaint village or the lovely tavern where we had a delicious meal. The different courses weren’t just snapped up by us but also photographed.

I have had to rely on my memory, which isn’t a very wise thing to do. That’s because I forget names of places and people and the images soon blur one into another. What I still do, however, is maintain a diary of all that transpired. But there’s a catch here too. Sometimes, I find it difficult to decipher my own handwriting as the notes were written in a state of exhaustion after returning from a memorable road trip, which involved stopping at every place that caught the eye and hours of walking to get a feel of the place.

But I do marvel at the strides photography has taken from the time of stiff family portraits where it seemed to be obligatory to wear the sternest expression and make viewers feel that the posing was inflicted on them as punishment. Viewing these sepia prints is fascinating as they take you back to a time when the matriarch and patriarch sat in the middle on high-backed chairs, arms folded just so and head held high. The children were scattered around with the youngest in a lap if there were a fair number. You look at the strange clothes and know this was their Sunday best. If that was the best, you also wonder what the worst must have been!

I enjoy looking through photo albums, even though I also store photographs digitally. It isn’t just the people in it that catch your attention but the backdrop or a piece of furniture. Sometimes the group is familiar, but not the surroundings and you begin wondering where this could have been taken. Your thoughts drift to other occasions and soon you are caught in a tsunami of memories.

Now my friends and family show me photographs on their mobile phones. So, I sit patiently next to them as they flip through the files, but I am left with a vague sense of disappointment. Their commentary often leaves much to be desired as they try to fit in 20 days of sightseeing in 20 seconds. Often the person showing you the images decides what you should look at or how long you should view it for. Some are skipped over as of being no interest to you. How can the person be so sure that I will not be interested?

However, I must admit that there is one plus point in photos taken on mobile phones. The delete button. Any photograph in which you look particularly horrible can be disposed of without much ado. If it were a photo album, this would require sleight of hand as the person to whom that collection belongs might not view such an act favourably. That gap in an album is easily noticeable and suspicion can easily fall on you.