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‘If you’re not close enough, your photo isn’t good enough’: Remembering Raghu Rai india news

'If you're not close enough, your photo isn't good enough': Remembering Raghu Rai

One of the scariest pictures of Raghu Rai bhopal gas tragedyA grieving father holds his dead child in his arms – the black and white image titled ‘Burial of an Unknown Child’ not only defines one of the world’s worst industrial disasters, but also the power of photojournalism.Rai, the renowned photographer who shaped India’s visual memory for more than five decades, died on Sunday. From the Bangladesh War to the Bhopal Gas Tragedy, from portraits of Indira Gandhi and Mother Teresa to everyday life on Indian streets, Rai’s work not only documented events but gave them permanence. “Visual history is more important than creating beautiful and great art photography. History is always being written and even rewritten.” But photo history cannot be rewritten,” Rai had told TOI in an earlier interview.Born in 1942, Rai came to photography almost by accident, but soon rose to international fame. In his late twenties, he was exhibiting in Paris, where his work attracted the attention of Henri Cartier-Bresson, who later nominated him for Magnum Photos in 1977. “My first exhibition was in Paris in 1972, with 50 photographs of my work in India and 25 photographs of Bangladeshi refugees and the crisis there. Bresson was the first visitor. I was not his student; He treated me as an equal because I had received very good reviews from the French press, saying, ‘It’s a great time for photography in Paris because Raghu Rai is showing here’,” Rai said of his association with the French master.At the core of his practice was an emphasis on closeness – to people, to moments, to truth. “In photography, they say if you’re not close enough, your photo isn’t good enough,” he said. He described the act of taking photographs as deeply immersive: “If your energy is focused, your mind, body and spirit come into tune, and in that moment, you take in all that is in front of you through your viewfinder.Rai began his career in the analog era, the permanence of which he valued highly. “Silver gelatin prints have become very expensive, but they have a life of 150 years and more,” he said, although he worked much with digital in his later years.He also reflected on how much the profession has changed. “The kind of freedom we got as photojournalists and the access we had under any circumstances, even to a prime minister, is unimaginable now,” he said.Over nearly four decades in active journalism, which included his stint at The Statesman, Rai remained conscious of the fleeting nature of news. “Stories die every day in the newspaper,” he said. “So, I was conscious of my photographs going beyond old stories.” Hours after his death, social media was flooded with some of his most unforgettable frames – among them the 1982 Baroda photo essay that depicted the wordless companionship between a blind Muslim beggar and a mentally challenged Hindu girl.In later years, he sharply criticized the direction of photography. He said, “The vast majority of photography these days is happy, flamboyant, colorful photographs that do not qualify as fine art.”He said, “Democratization is good. But what are these people actually doing? Selfies, self-love, making stupid faces? The worst thing is that even inside temples and churches, people are standing together and making faces. It has become unbearable now.”The role of photographer was important for Rai. He said, “A serious photographer, a serious writer will use his pen, his lens for meaningful expression that touches the society, and not to please himself.”Even in his eighties, Rai remained connected to the world, although age slowed him down. Even during the pandemic, he dared to take pictures of the CAA and farmers’ protests. In an age filled with images, his work reminds us that photography is not about capturing moments but keeping them alive.

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