Raju Korti
There are journalists, and then
there is Dr Moiz Mannan Haque -- a man whose words once danced crisply across
the columns of newspapers, and whose camera now coaxes poetry from the wild.
From the clang of newsrooms to the hush of forests, Moiz has made an
extraordinary journey -- one that reads like a slow-simmered novel rather than
a hurried headline. Former Head of the Department of Mass Communication at RTM
Nagpur University, erstwhile Assistant Professor at NYSS Institute of
Management and Research, and before that a redoubtable name in the world of
reportage -- with stints as News Editor at The Peninsula, Qatar and
Senior Reporter at both The Indian Express and The Hitavada --Moiz
has worn many hats, and worn them well.
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Moiz with his muse -- Nature |
I have had the privilege of being his
contemporary and witnessing firsthand how he filed immaculate copies that could
glide past even the flintiest-eyed editors without the need for a red pen -- stories
so airtight, they needed no patchwork. But what’s remarkable is not just his
mastery in spinning a crisp copy – it is his seamless metamorphosis into a
visual raconteur, a chronicler of the untamed, whose photographs now belong
more to the domain of galleries and museums than mere social media scrolls. His
frames breathe. They pause. They speak. Each one, a whisper from the
wilderness.
And if you think that’s the end of the story, think again. Moiz is
nothing if not a chameleon of talent. A beloved professor, adored -- nay,
hero-worshipped -- by his students for his rigour and humour alike, he has also
ventured into the world of fringe theatre. In a production titled Adieu,
staged in the unorthodox format of a "Shot Play" -- a performance
recorded in one fluid take without retakes or audience -- he dived into the
role of a dying father. The lines were simple, the emotion anything but. In his
own words, “It was a lot of fun… a new format and challenging.” True to form,
he aced it with aplomb.
Perhaps what makes his photographic artistry
irresistible is this: if the images are lush slices of sponge cake, the
captions he pens are the glistening, whip-smart icing on top. Wry, wise,
wistful -- always pitch perfect.
What follows is a freewheeling exchange with
Moiz -- who has now traded news desks for nesting birds, deadlines for
dew-dropped mornings, and the clickety-clack of typewriters for the meditative
click of a camera shutter.
Let’s step into his world, frame by frame.
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(Both collages courtesy Pragati Korti) |
Photography
for Moiz began in black and white -- quite literally. As a curious teenager on
a tour of South India, armed with his uncle’s borrowed camera and eyes wide
open to the marvels of heritage architecture, his first brush with image-making
was more than just recreational. It was instinctive, almost ritualistic. A
humble plastic-bodied HotShot 110 camera became his first personal tool -- rudimentary,
even toy-like -- yet it offered him a window into landscapes, especially during
a formative tour of Kashmir. Long before he fully understood aperture or
exposure, the language of visuals had already begun whispering to him.
His
photographic journey took a historic turn during his journalism training in
West Berlin in 1990. Out of his modest scholarship, he bought his first SLR
film camera -- the iconic Pentax K1000. That camera would bear witness to one
of the defining moments of the 20th century. As the Berlin Wall crumbled and
the merger of East and West Germany unfolded before his eyes, Moiz was there --
not just as a student of journalism, but as a chronicler of history. Some of
the images he captured during that euphoric moment found their way to
publication, affirming his instinct that storytelling through the lens was a
calling, not a coincidence.

Growing up in Nagpur in a family where weekends
meant picnics by lakes, rivers, and forests, Moiz was steeped in nature without
even realizing it. Though his early professional life was anchored in
journalism -- covering elections, capturing newsmakers, writing headlines --
the love for imagery simmered in the background. But it wasn’t until he could
afford a decent camera that he began framing the world not just in his mind,
but on film. The shift from hard news to herons wasn’t abrupt -- it was a
gentle, organic evolution. He often quips, “It was a ‘natural’ progression.
”He
describes himself as a photographer guided more by instinct than by rigorous
training. The photographic eye -- that elusive gift of knowing a good frame
even without a camera -- seemed to develop with time. “Practice may teach you
the buttons, but instinct guides the frame,” he says, summarizing his belief in
spontaneous vision over mechanical mastery.
Moiz’s transition from journalist to
nature photographer was not an escape, but an extension. Visual storytelling
was always in his DNA. In newsrooms in India and abroad, he shared a deep
rapport with photojournalists, and later taught photojournalism himself, often
urging students to find the “intro” -- journalism’s sacred first paragraph --
within every image. That same instinct shapes his wildlife photography today.
He doesn’t aim merely for beauty, but for narrative. “My photos are not meant
to be pretty postcards. They must speak.
”If journalism taught him to chase
stories, nature photography taught him to wait for them. “It’s a form of
meditation,” he reflects, “not about losing oneself, but becoming so aware of
nature that you almost vanish into it.” Unlike reporting, where deadlines and
readers dominate the rewards, nature photography is deeply personal. “The
satisfaction is inward,” he says, “and the patience you build is the dividend.
”Despite
living in an age of AI filters and superficial beauty, Moiz is unshaken in his
core belief -- that composition is the soul of photography. “Fifty per cent of
photography is where you stand,” he states. Good photos are born in the mind,
not the camera. Whether it’s trimming excess in a news report or excluding
non-essentials in a photograph, the parallels between editing words and
composing images remain vivid to him.
His most dramatic moment in the wild?
Undoubtedly the heart-racing encounter in Tadoba in 2019, when the young tiger
Chhota Matkasur launched an ambush on a herd of Indian gaurs -- with Moiz and
his team caught smack in the middle. The tension, the chase, the blur of hooves
and paws -- and amidst all that chaos, he managed to click a few electrifying
shots. One even made it to the front page of a prominent daily. But perhaps
more unforgettable was a childhood memory -- barely six or seven years old,
tumbling off an elephant’s back during a safari in Kanha, only to find himself
face-to-face with a tigress and her cubs. Miraculously unharmed, the memory
still carries the scent of forest and a quiet awe.

Though tigers draw attention --
and rightly so -- they aren’t his singular fascination. For Moiz, nature’s
drama plays out equally in humble corners. A spider trapping a moth at home, a
Shikra diving for a dove, a water snake lunging at a fish -- all equally
riveting. He believes that even the most overlooked creatures -- the ants and
grasshoppers -- deserve the reverence we reserve for tigers and leopards.
“Nature has no hierarchy,” he says. “Every character in her theatre matters.
”While
he does not proclaim to be an ornithologist, his love for birds – whom he calls
as nature’s beautiful creations -- is visible in every frame. Common sparrows
or rare eagles -- he sees himself as a storyteller, not a scientist. The goal
is not taxonomy, but empathy.
Ask him whether nature photography is more
cathartic than journalism and his answer is gentle but firm: “Reporting was for
others; this is for myself.” The newsroom was often a race; the forest is a
sanctuary. There are no deadlines, only dawns and dusks, no editors -- only
instincts.
On how the media can better handle environmental issues, his
suggestion is insightful: stop preaching, start showing. “Rather than quoting
experts, showcase successful community actions,” he urges. “Don’t tell people
what to do -- show them how it’s done.
”What next, then? A rare snow leopard? A
volcanic eruption? A glacier collapsing? “Actually, I’m leaning toward street
photography,” he says with a quiet smile. “There are so many untold stories
around us -- stories of people, markets, alleys, and moments that flicker past
in a second.” With more time on his hands and no formal job constraints, Moiz
is ready to rediscover the world with the same lens, this time tilted toward
humanity again -- as always, in search of stories.
(Sample pics have been selected from Moiz's vast repertoire).