From Headlines to Herons: The man behind the lens!

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.

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.

(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).