Shoot at Sight

Says Naresh, the elder of the two: “We were brought up in Hardwar and our earliest childhood memories are those of accompanying our father to the forest to study and collect herbs.” Father Ramesh Bedi also loved to photograph these rare herbs and the sons picked up photography from him as well. Their career choice was then decided: photography and wildlife.

While younger brother Rajesh joined The Times of India as a Staff Photographer, Naresh went on to learn cinematography at the Films and Television Institute of India, Pune (Shatrughan Sinha was his fellow classmate). Still, it wasn’t the glamour world of films for Naresh. “Though I got the award for the best film of the year, I was adamant not to join Bollyood. I just didn’t want to capture the same old stereotypical movements,” he explains.

Rajesh, too, didn’t want to fall into the rut of being a newspaper photographer and so branched out on his own. The Bedis are perhaps best known for capturing the scenic splendour of Ladakh and the different facets of the life of a sadhu. In fact, their second film on Ladakh — Desert in the Skies — which showed the rare black-necked crane, went on to win the Best Environment Film Award at the 1996 International Film Festival.

But it was while making a film on sadhus, especially the Aghoris, who live on cremation grounds and sometimes feed on the flesh left after a body is burnt, that all their years spent in Hardwar and their knowledge about sadhus came to good use.

Says Naresh: “We wanted to show how sadhus are initiated into their order … how a sadhu is made. It was not easy as most of them were wary of being filmed. In particular, the Aghoris were most reluctant to talk.” After they cajoled a 84-year-old Aghori to let them film him, they followed him for two years.

Filming Ladakh was a difficult, but satisfying experience. Waiting endlessly for wild dogs and snow leopards to put up an appearance in the excruciating cold is just one of the hazards of being a wildlife film-maker. “The first time we tried to film the life-cycle of the bar-headed geese, they never turned up,” informs Naresh. “We had to go again to shoot them. And this year when I went to Ladakh for some other reason, I spotted them the very first day! This is life.” He could have well said: “This is wildlife film-making”.

But what is it that makes them go on? “If you are interested in your work, it will have that flavour,” says Rajesh. “Of course, there are times when you don’t spot what you are looking for. But if you are interested, then it doesn’t matter.” As for conservation, it’s a tough game. “When you can’t save people in Delhi, how can you save animals in the forest.”

Then there is the issue of baiting, which the Bedis have often been accused of. But they are quick to dismiss all such charges. “See, firstly if you bait to get a shot, your pictures are barred from all international screenings. So, why would anybody do it?” inquires Rajesh. They do admit that wildlife film-makers all over stage many shots. For instance, all the underwater shots are actually filmed in an aquarium.

The cormorant diving into the water again and again is more often than not a trained bird. Then of course, there are the nocturnal shots which are shot in a studio and are otherwise impossible to shoot in the wild. “But the inside story is not what is really important. What is important is that you get a person to be interested in wildlife,” says Naresh.

Where is the fate of wildlife film-making headed for? “It’s become fashionable to talk about it at cocktail parties, to say that I was in such and such sanctuary where the morning light was just perfect but given the lack of incentives and the stringent rules, it’s not going to be easy for the new generation,” says Rajesh. Still, there’s no harm trying as the Bedis have done. After all, hard work has its rewards.