Amit Adhikari

My story begins in a small fishing village in the Andaman Islands.

There were barely 30 or 32 families in our village. For us, the village was our whole world—and we wanted to explore every part of it.

My friends and I wandered through the forests, climbed around the mangroves, followed streams, walked the shore and spent endless hours in the sea. We learned to swim when we were very young. I walked almost 5 kilometres to school every day, and when I wasn’t studying, I was helping my father with fishing and farming.

Without realising it, I was learning something much more important.

I was learning the landscape.

I began recognising birds, watching snakes, noticing tracks and understanding the rhythms of the forest, the mangroves and the sea. I didn’t know the words wildlife photographer, conservationist or naturalist back then.

I simply loved being outside.

That is where my connection with wildlife began.

Finding Havelock

After college, I came to Havelock looking for a better opportunity.

But Havelock gave me something I hadn’t expected—a much bigger playground.

I could go birdwatching in the mornings, hike through the forests, walk the beaches and spend hours exploring the intertidal zone. I started meeting people who were curious about the same things I was.

So I began taking people with me.

I started organising birdwatching trips, nature walks, treks and intertidal explorations. At the time, organised birdwatching in Havelock was still very small, and I was among the first people to introduce and actively build it as an experience on the island.

The more I explored, the more I wanted to understand.

Birds led me to reptiles. Reptiles led me deeper into the forest. The forest led me back to the sea.

And eventually, I wanted to capture what I was seeing.

The First Photograph

I bought my first camera and started learning photography on my own.

My first wildlife photograph that really stayed with me was of a White-bellied Sea Eagle in the mangroves.

Someone had thrown away some waste fish. An eagle came down to feed on it.

I had my camera with me.

I watched.

I waited.

And I pressed the shutter.

It wasn’t a planned wildlife shoot. There was no hide, no elaborate setup, no expensive equipment.

Just a boy, a camera, a mangrove and a wild bird.

But that photograph changed something for me.

I realised that I didn’t just want to see wildlife.

I wanted to tell its story.

From Passion to Profession

In the beginning, very few people believed photography could become a real career.

I understood why. Photography was not the obvious path, especially on a small island.

But I kept going.

I was one of the early photographers in Havelock, working with resorts, brands and travellers while continuing to explore the islands. I ran wildlife experiences, photography tours and nature explorations.

But somewhere along the way, I realised that the work I was most passionate about was always connected to wildlife and the ocean.

Then came underwater photography.

My first scuba dive wasn’t exactly a life-changing experience. In fact, it took several years before I seriously thought about going underwater again.

But eventually, I returned to diving.

This time, something clicked.

The ocean opened another world to me.

I became a scuba diver, then an underwater photographer. I slowly invested in better cameras, housings, lenses, lights and diving equipment—often one piece at a time.

There was no shortcut.

I learned by doing, by making mistakes, by spending long hours in the field and by going back again and again.

Step by step, photography stopped being something I did alongside my work.

It became my work.

And then it became my life.

Still Exploring

Today, I work as a wildlife, underwater and conservation photographer.

I am also a scuba diver, freediver, birdwatcher and herper.

I photograph forests, islands, birds, reptiles, marine life and the people whose lives are connected to these ecosystems.

But when I look back, I don’t think the journey really started with a camera.

It started much earlier.

It started with a small fishing village of 30-something families.

With a boy walking five kilometres to school.

With muddy feet, mangrove roots, forest trails, fishing boats and endless days in the sea.

The boy who explored every corner of his village is still out there.

He just carries a camera now.

And he is still exploring.