My passport photo travails

When You look Like Your Passport Photo, It’s Time to Go Home. Says Erma Bombeck…

Sure, what is it about passport photos that bring out simply the worst and most lifeless in our faces?

After insisting that you comb your hair and powder (yes, I went through this in Madras yesterday – when I meekly protested, he glared at me in a manner as if to suggest – then don’t hold me responsible for the resullt…) your face, the well-meaning photographer then proceeds to help place your map in just the perfect position. Move your chin left madam, no, no, litttttle to the right. And then proceeds to jerk your neck violently in the said directions… By which time your well-combed hair has already started flying on your face. And you imagine the powder melting and trickling down your nose in rivulets… (which is exactly what the portrait will reveal finally)

And after hours of such guided directions (or what seems like hours), the final product always shows me looking somewhat desperately towards the celiling, head tilting to one side and my mouth set in a tight grimace as if I have somehow lost control of my facial motor muscles, or at worst, a smile which is sure to suggest to the viewer that I have had a few quick ones just before stepping into the studio…

Show me an individual with a passport photo he can be proud of – viz, one that he can show in mixed company without having children burst into sudden frightened sobs and adults falling off their chairs and hurting their heads / pulling their more delicate stomach muscles in the ensuing mirth – and I will show you an overachiever…