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Journalism of Courage
Kulwant Roys story lends itself easily to familiar narratives: of the Indian talent never noticed as much as his western competitors were (unsurprising,if one of them was Henri Cartier-Bresson); of the artist whose individuality shines out,even anonymously,in particular photos in big,disparate collections; but,above all,of the news photographer,making history from deadline to deadline,never really knowing when he might take a photograph that will determine how an entire era is remembered.
Consider the famous photograph of Jawaharlal Nehru,Mahatma Gandhi and Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel at a Congress meeting in 1946. Gandhi,looking into the middle distance,is,as ever,talking mainly to himself; Nehru and Patel,one on either side,straining to listen in,Nehru looking intently at his mentors mouth,and Patels face showing the effort it took for him to lean over at an uncomfortable,forty-five-degree angle. Could Roy know when he took it that it would be the most memorable representation of those fraught,foundational relationships? (So much so that it was chosen as the basis for a commemorative stamp after Patel died.) Surely,when he stood some distance behind Gandhi as he argued with M.A. Jinnah the latter in a perfectly cut three-piece suit,cigarette in hand,the former in loincloth,clenching,not leaning on,his walking stick he must have known? Or was he thinking only of the light,with the sun hitting Gandhi but not Jinnah,or that the angle wasnt right,with Gandhis face not visible?
The man making those calculations has finally been assured of his place in history,thanks mainly to his nephew,Aditya Arya,to whom he left his negatives. Roy died in 1984 of cancer; Arya held on to the boxes for a quarter-century,before finally opening them in 2008. (Sadly,no photograph exists of his face when he realised what had been gathering dust in his studio corner.) Their spellbinding contents,together with unobtrusive and useful text from JNU historian Indivar Kamtekar,make History in the Making easily the most impressive such book in some time.
The images of that founding generation are haunting: of Jinnah,for example,lounging absurdly on a plush armchair on a moving truck,waving to adoring crowds in Allahabad. And Nehru: in the 1950s,looking old and tired as his daughter stands grimly to his left,while his grandson Rajiv leans in for a hug; capless years later,looking somehow younger as he makes Jackie Kennedy laugh; thoughtful as he rests his chin on his cricket bat,wearing white flannels; walking with a towering Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan in Simla as Patel calls out to him from a passing rickshaw. But perhaps those of more ordinary Indians are even more valuable as documents,whether its the startlingly well-fed Punjabi labourers working on the Bhakra-Nangal dam or the exultant wrestler thats just beaten his English opponent.
