A Childhood Dream That Came True

The Camera That Started It All

I was in ninth grade when my parents and I went on a trip to Jammu and Kashmir.
Somewhere between the snow-covered mountains and the excitement of traveling, my
father handed me his old Konica film camera.

He didn’t teach me photography. He just gave me a brief idea of how the camera worked and put it in my hands. That was enough. The first photographs I ever took were of the snowy mountains.

I still remember looking through the viewfinder for the first time. It felt like the world had suddenly become quieter, more beautiful, more important. I wanted to hold on to that moment forever.

And then something unexpected happened. I had tears in my eyes. Happy tears. I didn’t
know it then, but something had changed inside me.

I still have that camera with me. It’s old now, but every time I look at it, I think of the little girl who discovered that she wanted to preserve moments before they disappeared.

The City I Knew Before I Had Seen It

Long before I ever stepped into New York City, I already knew it. I knew it from movies.
Especially from the movie Home Alone 2-Lost In New York. As a child, I watched that movie and dreamed of the city with the tall buildings, yellow taxis and endless possibilities. New York became a place I promised myself I would see one day.

Years later, I applied to several photography schools. One of them said yes. The New York
Film Academy, New York City campus. I don’t think I knew what to expect. I was overwhelmed, excited, nervous, and grateful all at once.

But the moment I stepped into New York and looked up at the skyscrapers I had only seen on television, I cried. Not because I was sad. Because I had MADE IT TO THE NEW YORK CITY!!! I remember thanking God, the universe, and most importantly, my parents. My heart was so full of gratitude and adventure that it felt like it could burst.

Another moment I will never forget was taking the subway alone to Times Square and seeing the famous red stairs. That was my “I made it” moment. The little girl with the Konica camera had somehow ended up in the city she had dreamed
about for years.

Finding My People

One of the most beautiful parts of NYFA wasn’t the classes or the assignments. It was the people. The friends I made there became family. For the first time, I was surrounded by people who understood art, creativity, and the strange joy that comes from seeing the world differently.

Sometimes all it takes is one person seeing something in you before you are able to see it yourself, but I was blessed enough to have more than one.

The Beauty of Imperfection

Before NYFA, I didn’t know much about documentary photography. I didn’t know
photographers like Henri Cartier-Bresson, Vivian Maier, Sally Mann or Mario Giacomelli.

Then I discovered their work. And I discovered myself too. I realized that I don’t love perfectly polished photographs. I love photographs that are raw. Imperfect. Honest. The kind of images that make you feel
something before you even understand why.

Because some photographs are not meant to be simply seen.

They are meant to be felt. That’s what I want my photographs to do. To tell a story. And then quietly allow the viewer to tell their own version of it.

It Was Never Just About Photography

Looking back, NYFA didn’t just make me a better photographer. It made me a better human
being.

It taught me to trust my instincts, believe in my creativity and see value in my own voice. It showed me that dreams we carry as children sometimes find their way back to us.

If I could go back and talk to my ninth-grade self, standing in Kashmir with that Konica camera in her hands, I would tell her: “Keep doing what you’re doing. Keep looking through that viewfinder. Keep believing in impossible things. Because one day, your dream is going to become your reality.”

And honestly, that’s my favourite photograph of all. A childhood dream that came true.