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

In one of the most memorable photos taken by Raghu Rai Bhopal gas tragedyA grieving father holds his dead child – the stark black-and-white photo titled “Burying an Unknown Child” not only defined one of the world’s worst industrial disasters, but also the power of photojournalism itself.Rai, the legendary photographer who shaped India’s visual memory for more than five decades, passed away on Sunday. From the Bangladesh war to the Bhopal gas disaster, from portraits of Indira Gandhi and Mother Teresa to everyday life on the streets of India, Rai’s work not only documents events but gives them timeless meaning. “Visual history is more important than making beautiful art photography. History is always being written and is even being rewritten. But photo history cannot be rewritten,” Rai told TOI in an earlier interview.Born in 1942, Rai entered the world of photography almost by accident, but quickly rose to international prominence. In his twenties, he exhibited in Paris and his work caught the attention of Henri Cartier-Bresson, who later nominated him for Magnum Photos in 1977. “I had my first exhibition in Paris in 1972, with 50 photos of my work in India and 25 photos of refugees in Bangladesh and the crisis there. Cartier-Bresson was the first visitor. I was not his student; his relationship with me was that of an equal, because I received favorable reviews from the French press, who said: ‘It was a great time for photography in Paris, because Raghu Rai exhibited here’,” Rai said of his association with the French master.Central to his practice is an insistence 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 describes the act of photography as deeply immersive: “If your energy is focused, then your mind, body and spirit fall into a rhythm where, in that moment, you take in everything in front of you through the viewfinder.“Rai began his career in the analog era, and he values ​​its longevity. “Gelatin silver prints have become very expensive, but they have a lifespan of 150 years or more,” he notes, although he did do a lot of digital work in his later years.He also reflected on how much the profession has changed. “The kind of freedom we enjoyed as photojournalists and the access we had in any given situation, even to the Prime Minister, is unthinkable now,” he said.In nearly four decades of active journalism, including his tenure at the Statesman, Rye has always been aware of the fleeting nature of news. “In newspapers, stories disappear every day,” he said. “So, I’m very careful about my photos transcending outdated stories.” In the hours after his death, social media was flooded with some of his most haunting images – including a 1982 photo essay from Baroda documenting the wordless companionship between a blind Muslim beggar and a mentally challenged Hindu girl.In later years he became sharply critical of the direction of photography. “Most photography today is happy, lively, colorful images that are not fine art,” he said.“Democratization is good. But what are these people doing? Taking selfies, self-love, making faces? The worst thing is that even in temples and churches, people are standing together and making faces. It has become unbearable now,” he added.For Rai, the role of photographer remains a serious one. “A serious photographer and a serious writer will use his pen and his lens to express meaningful expressions that move society, rather than to please himself,” he said.Even into his eighties, Rye remains connected to the world, even if age has slowed him down. Even during the pandemic, he ventured out to take photos of the CAA and farmers’ protests. In an age awash in images, his work reminds us that the purpose of photography is not to capture moments but to keep them alive.