“No internet references allowed.” As an A Level art student, those were the four most harrowing words I’ve heard my art teacher say. Dejectedly, I thought about the folder full of pictures related to my portfolio topic that I had tirelessly googled but were now unusable. I was in full panic mode at this point; subconsciously I was curled up in a corner, rocking back and forth. I had to go out and take my own reference pictures? The topic for my portfolio being drug addiction, I had no clue how I was going to get photographs related to that.

When my mother found out about my problem, she rolled her eyes and made me change out of my jeans into a more conservative shalwaar kameez and we set off for Abdullah Shah Ghazi’s mazaar.

I pass by Abdullah Shah Ghazi’s mazaar every day, sometimes more than once. I had noticed the upbeat blue exterior, the green flags at every peak and the daunting staircase leading to the entrance. But before this impromptu excursion, I had never once paid heed to all the people lounging outside on the sidewalk.

We instructed my slightly bewildered driver to pull over in front of a particularly disoriented looking man lying on the sidewalk.

As the car stopped I realised my mother expected me to get out of the car and photograph him. Clutching my camera, I stepped out hesitantly. After tentatively snapping a picture, I waited for him to react. When he didn’t respond, I took a few more shots from different angles before returning to the comfort of my car.

Now that I had overcome my initial fear, I became more confident and began approaching more people. My original plan had been to photograph people who looked like drug abusers but it didn’t take me long to stray off topic. Soon I was simply taking pictures of people who looked interesting, who looked different. I was constantly waiting to be told off, to be yelled at by my subjects for having the audacity to photograph them. Much to my surprise, that never happened.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. I was surprised by how enthusiastic some people were. There were two men in particular who saw me taking pictures and immediately sat up straight, tied turbans around their heads and began posing. They even informed me that taking the picture from the back would enhance my composition.

I didn’t know why I was so shocked by their cooperation, and then the more I thought about it, I figured it out. We live in our own little bubble, where we’re taught to fear the unknown from a young age. We see people who aren’t from the circles we associate with as foreign beings; in fact, sometimes we don’t even see them as people. We might spare them a glance or toss them a few rupees, but we never really see them as people who enjoy simple things like having their picture taken. They are practically invisible to us.

This whole experience reminded me of a line from my favourite Disney movie, Pocahontas, “You think the only people who are people, are the people who look and think like you. But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger, you’ll learn things you never knew you never knew."