“Unveiling the Lens: The Untold Story of West Bengal’s Photography vs. Bangladesh’s Global Stature”

New Delhi: A monochrome picture by Shamsul Islam Al-Majid portrays a skeletal mother engulfing her child, her gaze vacant with starvation, lacking any optimism. In this personal instance of acute fragility, the woman feeds her infant. The photograph, captured in either 1974 or 1975, has incited discussion for years. If dated 1974, it serves as proof of the Bangladesh famine; if 1975, it simply reflects common hunger and destitution. This debate, enduring well beyond the famine itself, mirrors the photograph’s lasting influence.

“It’s intriguing why people are adamant about marking the photograph as 1975. Over the past 53 years, specific photographs have gained fresh significance, resurfacing every time a regime change necessitates a reassessment of the past,” remarked Naeem Mohaiemen, a writer, researcher, and associate professor of visual arts at Columbia University.

The dialogue included Shukla Sawant and Suryanandini Narain from the School of Arts & Aesthetics, Jawaharlal Nehru University. Collectively, they explored the political frictions and ideological battles that have formed Bengal’s photographic identities, providing a thought-provoking preview of Mohaiemen’s work.

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The two Bengals

The Partition did not merely redraw lines on a map; it shattered cultural ties. In West Bengal, photography blossomed as a vibrant art form, documenting everything from lively streets to personal moments, weaving a rich tapestry of urban experience. However, in Bangladesh, the 1971 Liberation War became central to its photographic narrative. Amidst the chaos, the camera became a chronicler of the nation’s quest for independence.

As Bangladesh began to rebuild, social realism became predominant in its photography, propelled by NGOs and global demand for tales of endurance. The poignant visuals of famine, poverty, and refugee camps established its presence worldwide. Yet, these gripping images often oversimplify the nation’s odyssey, emphasizing suffering and resilience, while ignoring its intricacies.

“Although both regions shared cultural connections prior to Partition, the political landscape after 1947 molded their photographic realms. West Bengal, part of India, had greater access to resources, opportunities, and networks,” stated Mohaiemen. Kolkata birthed notable photographers such as Pablo Bartholomew, Prabuddha Dasgupta, and Raghubir Singh. However, for these artists, Kolkata was not the focal point of their creative journey, in contrast to their Bangladeshi peers, whose work was heavily intertwined with their local identity.

The trajectory for Bangladeshi photographers was more restricted. After 1971, a significant career transition frequently necessitated moving to North America or Europe. Yet true creative expression could only be realized in their homeland. Anwar Hussain relocated to France but faced challenges in reconnecting with Bangladesh’s artistic community upon his return. Conversely, Shahidul Alam’s return was fueled by a determination to create a distinctly Bangladeshi narrative, one that surpassed social realism and delved into the nation’s identity.

The discourse regarding these visuals, whether they depict misery or exploit it, continues to influence Bangladesh’s photographic identity. “While social realism garnered international acclaim, it also confined the country’s photography into a narrow narrative. ‘Yet another award-winning depiction of poverty’ became a frequent local critique, revealing frustration with what some perceived as the commercialization of suffering,” noted Mohaiemen.

On the other hand, West Bengal’s photography, although varied, lacked a singular identity. Photographers ventured into numerous themes, but the lack of a cohesive narrative meant that West Bengal’s photography did not attain the same degree of global acknowledgment as its neighboring counterpart.

During the Q&A session, a participant inquired about the term ‘indigenous photography,’ expressing confusion. They questioned how technology could be classified as indigenous, given that photography was not a native medium for many communities at that time.

Mohaiemen clarified that while photography was indeed an imported technology, the term ‘indigenous’ prompted a deeper examination of how local factors influenced the art form. In Bangladesh, for instance, photographers frequently referenced Western impact, even as local visual traditions, such as bazaar posters or peer influences, significantly contributed. He stressed the significance of acknowledging local practitioners who shaped the evolution of photography but were frequently eclipsed by Western influences.

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The politics of memory

Sawant’s father, who, as a youth, had enlisted in the Indian Air Force and was trained in reconnaissance photography. His experiences during the conflict in Dhaka, witnessing destruction yet preserving no war mementos or images, intrigued Sawant. “I often wondered if his choice to avoid retaining war souvenirs was connected to the trauma he endured,” she stated. “The lack of photographs in my family home communicated volumes about the profound impact the war had on those who lived through it.”

Mohaiemen shared insights from his research concerning the misassignment of photographs and how significant historical events shape photographic narratives across both Bengals. He elucidated that for West Bengal, the Noakhali riots are pivotal in understanding religious coexistence, whereas in Bangladesh, the 1971 war overshadows this. “For Bangladesh, the 1971 conflict erases the Noakhali riots. This erasure is not merely political; it extends to the photographic realm,” he articulated.

During his inquiry, Mohaiemen encountered an individual from Noakhali questioning Gandhi’s visit to the location: “Why did Gandhi come here? Why didn’t he go to the places where Muslims were being butchered?” This encounter underscored the stark contrast in how history is remembered and portrayed photographically by the two Bengals. Mohaiemen recalled how, for years, no one in Bangladesh had shown him the iconic Tarak Das photograph from the Noakhali riots. However, when he discovered it in West Bengal, the response was, “How is it that you’re unaware of this picture?” This episode highlighted the persistent disconnect between the two regions.

(Edited by Theres Sudeep)