Who doesn’t like to look at old black-and-white photographs? Thumbing through them, one can almost feel the texture of the grains in the prints. They are an irreplaceable, indelible imprint to mark the passage of time. It only adds to the sense of nostalgia when the earthy monotones are juxtaposed with the glare of modern colour. You will find plenty of this in Raghu Rai’s latest book, Delhi: Contrasts and Confluences.
By his own admission, Rai writes, this is his third book on Delhi. Having made Delhi his home in the early 1960s, he says his eye was automatically drawn to what was happening to his environs. The book begins with a picture of wheat being harvested behind Humayun’s tomb, perhaps for the last time in 1966. It’s perhaps an apt beginning to the story of a city that today rules over the second-largest body of human beings on the planet.
Flipping through the pages, one can’t argue with the imagery of a young boy taking a dive into the inviting waters of the Ugrasen Ki Baoli (a step well in the heart of Delhi) in 1971. Then there is Indira Gandhi addressing an ocean of her subjects from the ramparts of the Red Fort to mark Independence Day in 1970. There is the chaos of Chawri Bazaar in 1965, even before mechanised transport became common. Finally, you come to Delhi today, with its parking woes, road rage and in-your-face evidence of economic prosperity.
Yes, you are bound to find almost every facet of life in Delhi here, as seen through Rai’s lens. It also chronicles his growth as a photographer, as one can see him developing an unspoken relationship with his subjects as the years pass. Again, on the evidence of this book, no one should question why Rai is so celebrated for capturing India in his photojournalistic and fine-art body of work.
But there is a problem. Flipping through the pages, what strikes me is that there’s no suspense. I can almost predict which picture comes next. I have seen Rai’s pictures too many times — at exhibitions throughout the country, online at Magnum Photos’s website and, finally, in his numerous books (including the previous two on Delhi).
Though the book does a quality job, being a space to bring together Rai’s work in Delhi within a cohesive documentary theme, the purpose is defeated if I already have a couple of Rai’s books on my shelf. And William Dalrymple’s Introduction is there, because it’s him. Yes, this is too much monotony for too high a price.
DELHI: CONTRASTS & CONFLUENCES
Raghu Rai
Om Books
160 pages
Rs 4,995
