Moments pass. You go in and the seasoned instructions come at you from behind the dust-encrusted canvas curtain hung for heft, but also to block the light. ‘Move right, turn your face to the left, slightly to the left, look at me, look slightly at a right angle…’ These precise and familiar injunctions are also an opening of sorts for a fleeting camaraderie among those queueing up to get snapped. ‘Bhai (brother), where are you going?’ ‘Student?’ ‘Berate jacchhen?’ (Going on vacation?) ‘Do you have relatives there?’
Inside, it feels stuffy. Less than 10 minutes away from the embassies at a brisk walk, Quick Photo Studio welcomes visitors with blown-up wedding pictures taped askew on its glass front entrance and trades mainly in passport-sized photos. Having shared fragments of their stories, primarily around what the passport photos were for, customers collect their pictures and leave, never to meet again.
