‘If you’re not close enough, your photo is not good enough’: Remembering Raghu Rai | India News

In one of Raghu Rai’s most haunting photographs Bhopal Gas TragedyA grieving father cradles his dead child — the black and white image titled ‘Tomb of the Unknown Child’ is not only one of the worst art disasters the world has ever seen, but has come to define the power of photojournalism.Rai, the legendary photographer who shaped India’s visual memory for more than five decades, died on Sunday. From the Bangladesh war to the Bhopal gas disaster, from portraits of Indira Gandhi and Mother Teresa to everyday life on Indian streets, Rai’s work not only documented events, it gave them permanence. “Visual history is more important than doing beautiful and fine art photography. History is always being written and even being rewritten. But film history cannot be rewritten,” Rai told TOI in an earlier interview.

Born in 1942, Rai came to photography almost by accident but quickly gained international fame. By her late twenties, she was exhibiting in Paris, where her work caught the attention of Henri Cartier-Bresson, who later nominated her for a 1977 Magnum photo. “I had my first exhibition in Paris in 1972, with 50 pictures of my work in India and 25 refugee pictures, and there was the first crisis of Bangladeshis. I was not his student; He mentioned me as a peer because I was getting rave reviews from the French press, ‘Great time for photography in Paris because Raghu Rai is showing here’,” Rai said of his relationship with the French master.At the core of his practice was an emphasis on intimacy—to people, to moments, to truth. “In photography, they say if you’re not close enough, your picture isn’t good enough,” he said. He describes the act of photographing as deeply immersive: “If your energy is concentrated, your mind, body and spirit move into a rhythm, and in that moment, you take in what is in front of you through your viewfinder.“

Rai began his career in the analog era, the permanence of which he deeply valued. “Silver gelatin prints have become very expensive, but they have a lifespan of 150 years or more,” he noted, though he did a lot of work with digital in his later years.He is also a reflection of how much the profession has changed. “The kind of freedom we enjoyed as photojournalists and the access we had to any situation, even to a prime minister, is unimaginable now,” he said.During nearly four decades in active journalism, including his tenure at The Statesman, Rai was aware of the ephemeral nature of news. “In a newspaper, stories die every day,” he said. “So, I was aware of my photographs being out of date stories.” Within hours of his death, social media was flooded with some of his most memorable frames – among them the 1982 film essay Baroda capturing the wordless companionship between a blind Muslim beggar and a mentally challenged Hindu girl.In later years, he was sharply critical of the direction he had taken in photography. “Most photography today is happy, glamorous, colorful pictures that don’t fall into the category of fine art,” he said.

“Democratization is good. But what exactly are these people doing? Selfies, self-love, making stupid faces? What’s worse is that people are standing together and making faces even inside temples and churches. It has become unbearable now,” he added.

For Rai, the role of photographer was a serious one. “A serious photographer, a serious writer will use his pen, his lens for a meaningful expression that touches society, not to please himself,” he said.Even in his eighties, Rai was involved in the world, though age slowed him down. Even during the pandemic, he ventured to photograph CAA and farmers’ protests. In an age flooded with images, his work reminds us that photography is not about capturing moments but keeping them alive.