Turning potbellied chachaji into Bradley Cooper

In the big fat Indian shaadi album, everyone wants to look patla and perfect
"Say cheeeeese…!" and so they do. All 47 of them. The Big Fat Indian Wedding is an overwhelmingly happy occasion, for the bride and groom, their families, their neighbours, and anyone who saw them last when they were 7. Given that the business of a wedding photographer is designed around this carnival of rainbows and unicorns, it’s very difficult for me to say no to any demands of the delirious guests, no matter how outlandish.
If I had a penny for every time I’ve heard, "Mujhe photo mein patla kar dena (make me slim in the pictures)" I’d be filthy rich. Waists, double chins, flabby arms — everyone wants their flaws erased from public record, and their best features highlighted. The bride often goes a step further and wants dark circles and pimples to vanish from her album. Because, of course, everyone’s heard of this magic wand called Photoshop. Since I’m supposed to be the supreme wizard of the party, I am expected to make a 50-year-old uncle with a beer belly look like Bradley Cooper. Now I don’t sell computer voodoo, so I call a spade a spade. But what do you do when the father of the bride holds a country pistol to your head and says, "She is a size-40 but the images should all be size-32." You nod.
Post-processing miracles aren’t just expected to correct appearances but the choice of venue too. I’m often given reference images of weddings shot on picturesque beaches or in a grand Rajasthan palace and asked to replicate the effect on a banquet hall do. Before I can state the obvious, the magic word is thrown my way again: "Photoshop mein woh sab toh ho hi jaata hai na! (You can do all that in Photoshop)."
Not only do they overestimate the computer’s capabilities, they also undervalue the art behind good portraits. I’ve lost count of the times a random guest requested to see their picture and remarked, "You have such an awesome camera!" Like the device would take the exact same picture in anyone’s hands. But the worst are the aunties who make it a point to tell me their sons are ‘photographers’ too because "I bought him the same DSLR last month!"
Lakhs, at times crores, of rupees are spent on dresses, décor, venues and cuisine for one special day, but the idea of paying a photographer Rs 25,000 for pictures that will last a lifetime is somehow hard to swallow.
When the groom asks you, "Bhai, can I pay in instalments?" or the father of the bride says, "Beta, anyone can take candid pictures. Discount de do", it’s embarrassing to haggle for your day’s hard work. But what really gets my goat is the cry for ‘photowale bhaiyya’ as an aunty flaunting a Manish Malhotra demands that I give up the pheras and take her picture instead.
(As told to Sumeet Keswani)