Baba as a photographer

My first distinct memory of Baba and photography is from 1982.  It was my Khala's (Aunt) wedding, and Baba was taking pictures. He had recently gotten his hands on the 400 ISO colour film that time, and I remember him telling someone "this is a very high-speed film. 400 ASA!"

Another memory that sticks out is when he bought the Canon F-1. He was very excited about that camera. And then a few months later, he bought the 105 mm macro lens. We shot pictures of roses in our garden in New Baily Road.

Baba loved buying cameras. In recent years, he was particularly attached to Nikon, and purchased every professional SLR that the maker came out with. I would admonish him for not buying enough lenses and too many bodies. 

Maa would scold him for spending so much money on cameras, and not using them enough. He would solemnly declare each purchase to be his last. When a new model came out, he would promptly purchase it.  New drama would ensue where I would be Baba's co-conspirator in hiding the latest purchase from Maa, while discretely performing my due ministrations about his profligacy.

Though Baba's most active phase as a photographer was between the 80s and the early 2000s, he carried his camera with him everywhere, until his last days. Though too weak to take pictures, he took his Nikon D5 and his favorite 24-120 lens to Ratanpur, our ancestral village home, on our last trip there three weeks ago.

As a photographer, Baba was not preoccupied with technique. He did not bother much with rules of composition, or post-processing. He did not care about learning his cameras either. He just loved to take pictures.

Our friend and colleague, Neville, often told me that while we take pictures with our eyes, Baba takes them with his heart. As preoccupied as I was with the technical aspects of photography, I never paid much heed to Neville's assertions, until recently. A few months ago, in the middle of the COVID lockdown, I started thinking about my practice of photography. I had become deeply dissatisfied with it of late. Upon much reflection, and discussion with betters, I realized that my dissatisfaction stemmed partly from the fact that I was taking pictures that I thought I should take, and not ones that I felt connected to. Photograph what you love --it seems like a simple epiphany. However, it took me 13 years to arrive at, while Baba had had it from the start.

As I go over the pictures that Baba has taken over the years, this keeps jumping out at me. His pictures almost invariably reflect his pathos, tenderness, and love for his subjects -- whether they are family members, the people of Bangladesh, or nature.

You can literally feel his heart beating in the images.

There is a portrait of my sister, that especially comes to mind. Even though we both loved her fiercely, if I had to choose one that best encapsulates Sriya, I would choose the one taken by Baba. The kindness in her eyes, the compassion in her smile, the shyness in her demeanour. It is as close to the perfect portrait as I have ever seen. An image made with the heart, not with the eyes. 

I suppose that for Baba, photography was more of a personal diary, than a book looking to be published.  Every page of that diary reflects the enormity of his love, his compassion, his passion. Because of the complete lack of self-consciousness, his photography most purely reflects the person that he was.  Someone who loved deeply, and did what he loved, exclusively.