Photography taught me how to look. Macro photography taught me how to see.

Before I seriously picked up a camera, nature was something I admired from a distance. Trees, birds, rivers, and landscapes naturally caught my attention, as they do for most people. But in 2018, when I bought my first DSLR, a Canon 1500D, my relationship with nature began to change. What began as a simple interest in photography slowly became an obsession with discovering worlds hidden in plain sight.

One day, while photographing a common fly, I zoomed into the image and noticed details I had never seen before. The intricate patterns of its eyes, the fine hairs covering its body, and the complex structure of its wings seemed almost unreal. It felt as though I had discovered an entirely new universe living alongside us.

That moment changed everything.

From then on, I became fascinated by small creatures—insects, spiders, bees, wasps, and countless other organisms that most people overlook. The more I photographed them, the more I realized how little we notice the lives unfolding around us every day. An ordinary leaf suddenly became a hunting ground. A dry bamboo stick became a nesting site. A wall corner transformed into a construction zone for tiny architects.

Photography became more than a way of creating images. It became a way of exploring.

Living in Goalpara, Assam, I found that I did not need to travel far to discover extraordinary stories. Many of my subjects were found around my own home and nearby villages. Nature was not hidden in distant forests; it was present in gardens, fields, ponds, and even on the walls of my house.

One of the greatest lessons macro photography taught me was patience.

Many people see a photograph and think it was made in a fraction of a second. While the exposure may last only an instant, the journey to that moment can take days. Some of my favourite photographs required hours of observation spread over multiple days. I often spent five to six hours waiting, watching, and trying to understand the behaviour of a subject before even attempting a photograph.

Among all the creatures I have photographed, potter wasps hold a special place in my heart.

At first glance, they appear ordinary. Yet when observed closely, they reveal an astonishing level of intelligence and dedication. They build nests grain by grain, carrying mud repeatedly over long distances. They hunt caterpillars, carefully storing them inside nest chambers to feed their future offspring. Every action is purposeful. Every flight has meaning.

One particular potter wasp changed the course of my photographic journey.

I first noticed it building a nest on the frame of a photograph inside my home. What caught my attention was that it repeatedly returned carrying green caterpillars in its jaws. Curious about its behaviour, I began observing it every day. For several days, I watched silently as it flew back and forth, gathering food for its young.

The more I watched, the more I admired its persistence.

The wasp never seemed to rest. It carried prey much larger than itself and carefully inspected the nest before entering, repeating the same routine again and again. In many ways, I saw reflections of qualities we value in our own lives—patience, consistency, dedication, and care.

Eventually, after days of observation, I made the image I had envisioned: the potter wasp in flight with a bright green caterpillar held beneath it.

That photograph would later become one of the most important images of my career.

When the image, Special Delivery, was Highly Commended in the Behaviour: Invertebrates category of the Natural History Museum’s 2025 Wildlife Photographer of the Year competition, I was shocked. Like many photographers, I always hoped my work would reach a wider audience, but I never expected a tiny wasp from my home to travel so far.

The first people I shared the news with were my family and one of my closest friends.

Their excitement reminded me how meaningful photography can be when it is rooted in genuine curiosity. The award was certainly an honour, but what mattered most was that a small insect—one that most people would never notice—was suddenly being seen and appreciated by people around the world.

That, to me, is the true power of photography.

Many of the creatures I photograph play crucial ecological roles. Potter wasps prey on caterpillars. Some solitary wasps hunt spiders, while bees pollinate flowering plants. Even insects often considered pests contribute to maintaining ecological balance. Yet because they are small, they are frequently ignored or misunderstood.

Through my images, I hope to bring these hidden lives closer to people.

I want viewers to look beyond fear or indifference and recognize the beauty, complexity, and importance of these organisms.

Every insect has a story. Every behaviour reveals something about how an animal survives, reproduces, or responds to its surroundings. Every species contributes to the larger ecosystem in ways we often fail to appreciate.

Some of my favourite images capture not simply insects, but behaviour.

These photographs are not just portraits. They are stories of survival, engineering, parenting, hunting, and adaptation. They reveal lives that mirror many of the struggles and triumphs found throughout nature.

The deeper I ventured into macro photography, the more curious I became. Every outing presented new questions. Every species revealed another mystery waiting to be understood.

Curiosity continues to drive me today.

Awards, publications, and recognition from organizations such as the Natural History Museum, Nature inFocus, María Luisa, National Geographic, Discovery, BBC, Sanctuary Asia, and other publications have been incredibly encouraging. They remind me that stories from small corners of the world can resonate globally.

Yet my greatest reward remains the same as it was when I started: the feeling of discovering something new.

It is the excitement of finding an unfamiliar insect on a leaf, the anticipation of observing a behaviour I have never witnessed before, and the realization that nature still holds countless secrets, even in places we pass every day.

For anyone beginning their journey in photography, my advice is simple: keep photographing, keep observing, and never try to become someone else. Learn from others, but develop your own vision. Photography is most meaningful when it reflects your own curiosity and experiences.

The natural world does not need us to create wonder. It is already full of wonder.

Sometimes all we need to do is slow down enough to notice it.

And often, the most extraordinary stories are hiding in the smallest creatures.