My father loved my smile so much that he named me Smita (the one who has a very lovely smile). All my childhood he kept clicking pictures every time I smiled. I guess that’s where my interest in photography came from. As I grew up, my smile started fading bit by bit. There came a time when I completely forgot what it’s like not to fake a smile.
And then someone came along and I literally forgot what its like to keep a straight face. Anyway, when he left he took it away with him. Nothing really mattered to me after that.
Days went by but my parents didn’t give up on me. They did everything to bring that smile back on my face, to make me look somewhat like ‘Smita’ again. Fortunately, one fine day they did succeed. I finally gave up on my grief and smiled, not the fake one, the real one. And guess what they did? They started taking my pictures. It was one of that moment which I could cherish all my life.
Since then I realized how valuable my smile is, maybe not for me, but at least for them.