Tangents
The Photograph <i>in Question </i>
The photograph in question. Photo: Ihtisham Kabir
The photography bug bit me – for the long haul, it turned out - when I was an undergraduate student in the United States. The immediate catalyst was an exhibition of photographs of the great Ansel Adams which I found compelling and powerful. Soon I was immersed in photography, spending countless hours taking black and white pictures and developing them. In 1984 I made a trip to Bangladesh to visit my family. During this trip, I walked the streets, taking photographs of people, and rediscovered my native land. This is the story of one of those photographs. Sitting on the roadside near a construction site in Dhaka, an elderly couple was breaking bricks using hammers. The woman had cut her finger and her husband was bandaging her wound. I quickly took their picture and moved on. After returning to the US I processed all my film. Among the pictures was the brick-breaking couple. I thought it was a poignant and meaningful moment. It told the story of their love for each other. I showed it to many friends. But I was about to learn that different people can read the same photograph differently. Around this time, my aunt Shejo Phuphu (Mrs. Hasna Haque) visited the US from Bangladesh and spent a few days with me in California. I proudly showed her this photograph, expecting her to appreciate and praise it. She took it in her hands and - putting on her eyeglasses - scrutinized it carefully. She remained silent for a minute. Then she cleared her throat. “This photograph is nice. You took it, brought it outside our country, and are showing it to many people. But....†She paused, measuring her words carefully before resuming. “But...tui ektu bhebe dekhechish - have you thought what it says about our country to the world?†she asked.I was taken aback. “I feel very deeply for this couple and their situation. But do you want outsiders to see only the poverty of our country?†she asked. Her words stung me. But over the long-term, they influenced my thoughts about what to photograph and which photographs to show others. I became sensitive to the image of Bangladesh shown outside the country. While the poverty here is undeniable, many people and organisations have worked very hard for many years to move the country forward. Somehow, though, international images of Bangladesh seem to favour poverty and disasters over progress. This is not to deny the suffering and struggles of the poor. But where is the balanced view? Otherwise we deny the tremendous efforts made every day by Bangladeshis to improve their lives. Foreign newspapers are quick to jump on disaster stories from Bangladesh – be it a fire, cyclone, or some kind of disease. But how many bother to tell, for example, the story of the mothers who turn their world upside down so their children can attend a good school? It has been almost thirty years since I took this photograph; Shejo Phuphu passed away four years ago. But her words taught me to accord dignity to this country through my camera – a dignity that is hard-earned and well-deserved.
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