Sunday Vibes

Wildlife photographer and activist Sanjitpaal Singh is a rock star out in the wild!

FOR many people, the picture of the Helmeted hornbill is among Sanjitpaal Singh's most powerful images. And he gets it. "It's a rare bird to photograph," he concedes, with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

It was important now more than ever to try, though. The Helmeted hornbill is heading towards extinction because of the booming black market for carvings made from its "horn". Other hornbills have hollow casques, as their horns are called, but the Helmeted hornbill's is solid and easy to carve into beads, figurines and intricate scenes.

"Parts of the hornbill were being sold off by locals for a pittance. It's such a pity because they could actually earn so much more through ecotourism. The latter allows them to make money off natural resources while protecting them," he asserts.

It's not too late to save the Helmeted hornbill, Sanjit (as he's fondly known) tells me, but to get people to care, they had to be able to show the bird in all its splendour. "I knew it was going to be hard," he says, adding: "Twenty years ago, it was hard. And now they've been hunted so much more, they're even rarer. But it turned out to be even harder than I expected."

Too demanding?

Well, consider what he did to get the striking picture of a Helmeted hornbill with a very small fig in its bill.

He took a two-hour flight to Sabah, and journeyed for another two-and-a-half-hours to the village where he and his researcher wife, Dr Ravinder Kaur (or Ravin as I know her) were to stay for the duration of their trip.

They travelled by boat daily through the misty Kinabatangan River — at an unearthly hour of 4am — to reach the forest, traversed through rugged terrain in the dark while juggling equipment that weighed more than 14kg to arrive at the hornbill's roosting site before the break of dawn.

"We didn't want to miss the first feed of the day," he says, referring to the breeding season where chances of catching a glimpse of the male Helmeted hornbill is almost a guarantee if they can spot an active nest.

That's when the female seals herself inside a tree cavity to incubate her egg and raise the chick for up to 150 days. During that period, the male must deliver food multiple times a day.

Sanjit and his wife have been studying the breeding biology of the Helmeted hornbills. The daily journey to and fro the Lower Kinabatangan Forest Reserve for a whopping 45 days wasn't without risks.

The boatmen had to navigate their craft through the swollen river in the dead of the morning, skillfully manoeuvring through floating logs and tree branches that threatened to punch a few holes into the fragile boat. "It can be nerve-wracking hearing the thuds of the logs hitting the side of the boat while seeing almost next to nothing in the dark!" he recalls.

Then, there's the dark forest. It's cold, damp and pitch black as they navigated rough terrains, balanced on ridges and clambered steep hills with their equipment and supplies. "Not to mention the tedious walk uphill because the hornbill usually picks the tallest tree up on the tallest hill!" he exclaims wryly, shaking his head.

So yes, he may be a little hardcore.

A beast, even. But it works for Sanjit, a 39-year-old KL-born whose photography has taken him through the deepest forests, garnered him acclaim and awards, and most importantly, drew people's attention to the much-beleaguered wildlife.

One of the biggest benefits of wildlife photography is that it serves as a method to educate others about the beauty and vulnerability of plants and animals around the world. Sometimes, people aren't even aware that certain species exist. But that's just where wildlife photography plays an important role.

Until recently, few people had heard of the pangolin, a shy, harmless insect-eating mammal found in Africa and Asia. But through the work of a number of wildlife photographers, it quickly rose to our consciousness as one of the most trafficked mammals in the world as pangolin scales are used in folk remedies.

Global attention resulted in international laws to protect the pangolin, and efforts are now underway to stamp out the illegal trade. But without the photos, action might never have been taken.

That's exactly what Sanjit hopes for the wildlife he photographs. "The biggest hope is to get people to engage with nature. Every photograph is a new opportunity for people to learn about conservation and get involved in trying to save the world. That's the biggest hope any wildlife photographer could carry each time they take a picture out in the wild."

The established Malaysian nature, wildlife and conservation photographer has been in the field for almost two decades and has won various international awards and accreditations through his collaborations with non-governmental organisations, advertising agencies, magazines and the media at large.

Not bad at all for someone who wanted to be a rock star — and failed spectacularly at that.

BIG DREAMS

"I did want to be a rock star!" the soft-spoken man tells me half-seriously before pausing to gather his thoughts. He's leaning against his beanbag as we sit in conversational silence momentarily.

The rain is pelting hard outside his house. Their rescue mongrel, Zayne, pokes his head into the hallway and glares at me balefully while waiting patiently for Sanjit to reach over and scratch his ears.

It isn't easy getting Sanjit to open up, despite knowing him for more than a decade. I've always had the wildlife photographer on speed dial, especially whenever I needed a particular picture of wildlife for my stories.

"Saaaaanjittttt!" I'd wail. "Please, do you have a picture of the Plain-pouched hornbills ahhh? Or bats? I need bats too!" He was always generous with his photos. "Sure," he'd reply. "I'll send them shortly."

Then, of course, there was that unforgettable time when Sanjit called me and told me: "Come over, I'd like to take a few nice professional photos of you!" I arrived at his little makeshift studio a little nervous. "Bring a change of clothes!" ordered his wife, grinning. And together, they put me in front of Sanjit's lens for a few hours. "Relax," he told me quietly.

There's a level of self-consciousness and awareness of the camera that's unique to photographing a person. It felt like he was very sympathetic because I think he knew how intimidating it is for me to be photographed.

He was gentle yet serious. Because of his focus, I realised I was in good hands. "I don't like being in front of the lens too," he confesses suddenly, breaking the silence.

The sound of the rain outside almost drowns out his voice. "I'm so used to being behind the lens that it's often quite hard to be in front of it. I'm always scared of offending people by saying the wrong thing, you know. That scares me, honestly."

He means interviews, of course. "But you're a rock star!" I tease him. "No," he corrects me before adding: "I just wanted to be one."

He was a young boy with stars in his eyes. "I loved the idea of travelling and partying all night. It seemed rather ideal, doesn't it? Photography seemed like a golden pass to travel anywhere in the world and have a rock star lifestyle!" Ah yes, the testosterone-fuelled dream of a teenage boy, I chip in drily and he grins in response.

But you could forgive Sanjit for wanting to be a rock star. "My dad was the original rock star!" he says, smiling. His father is Harnahal Singh Sewa, one of Malaysia's most prolific hockey players who represented Malaysia in the 1968 and 1972 summer Olympic games.

Sanjit took after his father in sports initially. He started inline skating at the age of 14. "He was a champion inline skater! He represented Malaysia a couple of times!" chips in Ravin before he could say anything else.

"I'm sorry! I'm not supposed to interfere!" she apologises, adding: "But he just doesn't say much and it's really frustrating! There's so much about him that he doesn't talk about!"

He smiles sheepishly. "I think I was good at what I did. But that interest lost out to photography eventually," he remarks, shrugging. His late mother understood his passion, having bought him a camera once he left school.

Sanjit eventually moved on to study integrative journalism at Academy TV3 (now known as Malaysia Institute of Integrative Media). "A step closer to rock star-dom!" he quips, laughing heartily.

TOUGH JOURNEY

It wasn't a rock star life, he soon found out. The day after graduation, Sanjit found a job at a local publishing house. He was grateful for the job. "I started earning and that was important to me," he says quietly.

Throughout college, he took on odd jobs to earn money to buy himself clothes and even pay his fees. "I did anything I could to look cool at college," he says simply before adding quietly: "I didn't have much parental support at that time. Mum passed away of breast cancer when I was 18 and my dad took it very badly."

It was hard to get out of that "grey zone", as he called it. "It took a while," he admits. But Sanjit started working, earning and travelling. "I was growing up a little too hard and too fast at that time so what I was earning nearly always wasn't enough to sustain my lifestyle."

He was on a retainer with the publishing company for RM500 a month. Every picture published earned him extra money. "I worked hard and partied hard!" he exclaims, adding: "I'd be the guy who'd be roaming KL city after it was shut down in the wee hours of the morning. I'd be at the mamak with a mug of steaming hot Milo. I'd be the guy who takes the train home at six in the morning and yet be the first one to report for work later in the day!"

He did that for two years. That's when he earned his "superpower", Sanjit tells me with a twinkle in his eye. "I can sleep anywhere! Standing up, sleeping in cars, on trains, everywhere!"

But then the publishing house shut down suddenly. Without warning, the 20-something youth had nothing overnight. "What does this mean for me?" he wondered as he packed up his things at the office. He had a story due and he left his thumb drive with his work on the table. "I left knowing that I completed my assignments," he explains softly.

He floated for a while, trying to earn a living. "I couldn't find anything for a few months," he says. Pausing, he looks at me before bursting into laughter and saying: "I'm not sure if this is the story you want to write about… but I'll tell it anyway!"

He eventually got an "apprenticeship" at a post-production studio. "It wasn't too bad," he says carefully, before admitting: "It was horrible actually. I was doing work for free for three whole years!"

It was supposed to be an "exchange of knowledge", he explains. He walked to work every day, rain or shine, with a budget of RM2 per day. "That was my roti canai and teh O, my one meal per day!" he tells me blithely.

There was a time when he wasn't feeling well and sat in the park. He was robbed at knifepoint. "They took everything, including my precious bag that I won in a competition!" he recounts regretfully, adding: "They took everything… everything!"

He'd wanted to enter a photo competition but all his files were in the laptop that was stolen. "I almost gave up but I remembered that I'd saved it online as back-up. My girlfriend (now wife!) borrowed a laptop from her office and helped submit those photographs that I saved to the BBC-Veolia Environment Wildlife Photographer of the Year." Sanjit's submissions reached the semifinals for that competition.

After three years of trying to live on a shoestring budget, he met someone from another advertising house who hired him to be a photographer for several coffee table book projects.

The agency's core business was architecture and interior design for property developers. They had a design department to produce annual reports and coffee table books for government agencies.

"It was the break I was looking for. Finally, a decent salary and I didn't have to be on a one-meal-a-day budget!" he exclaims, adding: "I finally earned enough to actually own a decent camera!"

There was no looking back for Sanjit. Another feather in his cap occurred by chance when people he befriended during his job assignments recommended him to be a brand representative for a camera company.

"I was already photographing wildlife whenever I could, and I was one of the only photographers recommended who had a wildlife portfolio. Needless to say, the camera company was intrigued and I became a brand ambassador!" he shares.

Despite his hectic schedule, he found time to venture into nature parks and forests to photograph wildlife. "It's deeply meditative," he explains, adding: "I found that it's where I was truly happy."

He'd always been intrigued by wildlife documentaries he watched as a young child. "How on earth did they photograph that?" he wondered. "Those amazing visuals with a gripping storyline stirred so much emotions within me back then. I wanted desperately to be that guy behind the camera. Surely, it didn't get more rock and roll than that!" he exclaims, grinning.

What about his wife? I tease. I mean, she's into conservation and that surely must have rubbed off on him. "Ravin certainly opened my eyes to look at things from the conservation perspective. That has helped elevate my photography because once you understand the power of a photograph as a tool for research and awareness, you look at photography differently," he replies, smiling at his wife across the room.

Life went on. There was steady work, a simple wedding and a happily-ever-after for the boy from Kelana Jaya. "It's been good," he concedes with a smile. "Not a rock star life after all," I observe. "Oh, you'd be surprised!" he replies drolly.

He left the advertising industry after eight years and set up his own photography studio called fullcirclepix.com. "It was an amicable parting and my boss understood my need to spread my wings," explains Sanjit.

He then described himself as an "anything" photographer. "I photographed everything and anything — people, places, things. There was ample work until the pandemic happened. Then things grew quiet. But it's given me the opportunity to keep focusing on the type of photography that I love doing. I've been into wildlife photography since 2006 and this season has seen me doing something that I've had so much passion for."

Having his own business had definitely helped Sanjit venture into the wild more often, usually with Ravin, who's made a career out of studying hornbills. "I wanted to do my part in saving these animals," he tells me quietly, adding: "Save the planet and you'll save its creatures. That point seems obvious. It turns out, however, that the reverse is true, too."

The deeper he went into the forest, the deeper he felt about the wildlife he was photographing and the dwindling habitat. "If we can't save the planet and the species who call it home, including us, every other issue we care about will go up in flames, too."

Wildlife photography is definitely not for the fainthearted. He regales me with a story of how he was put in a dangerous situation while photographing orangutans. "I was against a rock wall behind me. On my right was a crevasse. In front of me was a female orangutan with a juvenile hanging around her neck."

Continuing, he recalls: "On the left was an agitated male orangutan who was breaking sticks and making noises as he glared at me balefully. They were too close to me and I couldn't capture them with my camera," he recounts.

He was terrified. He slowly and cautiously packed his camera and equipment into his bag and as soon as the female passed, he raced in front and climbed a small ridge away from the angry male. "I realised that they were just trying to cross over and I was in their way," he says softly.

The photographer is intent on doing what he does best — raising awareness through his imagery and helping researchers and conservationists raise funds to help protect threatened habitats and wildlife.

The biggest win for the husband-wife team was when Yayasan Sime Darby sponsored their activities and some of the equipment like drones, that would enable them to study the elusive hornbills better. It definitely gives more meaning to his work, says Sanjit, when corporations join in their quest of saving wildlife.

"My mission is to continue to document wildlife and endangered species and landscapes to show a world worth saving," he insists, smiling, before concluding: "It's so much better than being a rock star!"

Most Popular
Related Article
Says Stories