of pills with shaking hands, “can relieve me! I travel from country to country to leave the memory
behind but to no avail…” The photographer’s voice broke, nearing tears he had suppressed for so
long. The depression had finally taken its toll on him. His hands were shaking…
Aaron grabbed him firmly by the shoulders. “Listen. Calm down. Do not let the emotions take
over. Get some rest, and let sleep recollect your thoughts.”
The photographer was in no shape to disagree. He closed his eyes and dozed off to the
rhythmic swishes of the winds.
The photographer woke up to the first searing rays of sunlight. Stumbling out of the tent, he
saw Aaron sitting in the same spot, eyes fixed on something in the distance intently. The rising
sun sprayed a coating of golden yellow over the landscape, creating elongated shadows behind the
objects it touched. Aaron was already awake, sitting cross-legged in front of the tent.
Aaron motioned the photographer to sit next to him. “See that lone bear lumbering in the
distance?” Aaron asked in hushed tones. “That is a Gobi bear, or Mazaalai as the locals call it.
This may be the only time you’ll ever see this creature: there are less than 50 left on the planet,
due to the fluctuating climates and poaching.” Aaron spoke softly with a wistful smile.
The photographer stared in awe at the animal. This might be the last time I’m going to see
this creature again, thought the photographer. A sense of admiration and passion began to fill his
heart. So, in one fluid motion, he took his camera out of its pouch, zoomed in -
- and the distinct ‘click’ of the camera shutter preserved the scene forever.
It took a moment for the photographer to process what he had done. I took a photo. A smile
crept across his face, like the sun that rose ever so slowly above the horizon.
Aaron grinned. “You never know what’s going to be waiting around the corner, eh?”
Something in Aaron’s voice prompted the photographer to look at him, a face basked in
golden yellow. Aaron patted him on the back. “Sometimes you just have to face that memory. You
just can’t give up photography, can you? Then learn from your memories and move on. Use that
memory to remind yourself of your morals.”
The photographer gazed at the horizon of the Gobi, lost in thought. The depression was now an
ebbing pain in his head. There is more to photography. He looked at the photo of the Gobi bear. A
thought began to blossom in his head.
He would use his talent in photography for a positive cause: to spread the message of
environmental conservation and protection, starting with this very picture of the bear. Call it
compensation for his past regrets: the photographer didn’t care, for it had been months since his
life had a purpose, since he felt hope. Hope smothered his painful memories, like the light veil of
dust that blew across the rocky Gobi desert, rejuvenating him, empowering him.
The photographer had one last task to accomplish. He took out the bag of pills in his pocket.
He then dug a tiny hole in the ground, emptying the bag’s contents into the hole and burying
them. I am going to prove myself to the world. I have changed.
“You’re a new man now,” Aaron, his counsellor, voice brimming with relief. “Embark on your
journey. Till we meet again.”
The photographer shook Aaron’s hand firmly and climbed onto his camel’s back. Just before he
pulled on the reins the photographer turned to take one last look at Aaron, at that unforgettable
* * *
