PICTURE TALK
Satyajit Ray, born in Calcutta, was an Indian film director, screenwriter, music composer, lyricist, author, and graphic artist. He is regarded as one of the greatest filmmakers of all time.
I had seen many of Ray’s films and was very keen to meet him, or at least to get a chance to shoot him from a close range, but I wasn’t keen to go to Calcutta, where he made most of his films. One hot July morning in 1978 I received a call from film director Basu Bhattacharya, whom I had befriended during one of the International Film Festivals in Delhi. I had once mentioned my desire to photograph Ray to Basu, and he had promised to call me whenever such an opportunity arose.
“We are having a symposium in south Mumbai,” he said. “Do you want to come? Manik Babu is attending too…” (Manik was the nickname of Satyajit Ray.) Basu Da gave me more details, but my mind was focused on the word ‘Manik’. A week later, 15 minutes late due to Bombay’s notorious traffic, I reached the auditorium. While sitting in the cab, I had composed a number of frames in my mind, but nothing prepared me for the frame that I got that afternoon.
Not finding Ray on the stage, I spent some time inside the auditorium looking for him in the audience. Rather than climb up onto the stage during his speech and disturb him and the audience, I was looking for a corner to position myself. My plan was to click him when he went up to speak. I tried my best not to disturb the audience or block their view but, it was really difficult to find a place to stand. Wherever I stood with my camera, some person would whisper or gesture that I was blocking his view. Frustrated with not finding a place acceptable to the audience, I decided to occupy one of the two vacant seats right in the middle of the front row, hoping to get at least a few shots instead of going back empty-handed. I ran over and occupied one of the seats, waiting with bated breath in case I had to vacate it for some VIP. But I had no idea of what was to happen next.
As luck would have it, nobody ever came to ask me to vacate the seat, and within a little while a tall man came and quietly occupied the one next to me. It was my subject, Satyajit Ray himself, who was sitting next to me! Here I am with a Minolta still camera in my hands (in those days it was one of the best brands; it’s extinct now) and Satyajit Ray decides to sit just half an inch away from me. Suddenly there was a pin-drop silence in the hall, and if I remember correctly, it was Shyam Benegal on stage, speaking and waiting for Ray’s arrival.
For a few minutes I sat dumbfounded, wondering how I could possibly photograph him from this position. Getting a shot of such a tall man (Satyajit Ray was six feet five inches, or 1.96 metres) was hard enough in the best of situations, but Ray was sitting so close to me that even with a normal 50mm lens, getting a full-face close-up would be very difficult. I remained glued to my seat, did not move at all, only leaned leftwards to get Ray’s full-face close-ups. He sensed that I was about to start clicking, but he never moved, never looked at me, and continued looking at the stage, deeply engrossed in the discussion. I decided to concentrate only on his facial expressions.
In most frames, I just managed to get half a frame of a brooding Satyajit Ray, and that too when the light source was just a few fluorescent tubes. I kept clicking as he kept listening. Ray never once looked at me, nor ever asked me to stop shooting him; he remained engrossed in his own thoughts. I kept on shooting as long as Ray was sitting next to me, until he got up and went to the stage to speak.
Thus, I got one of the most iconic and oft-used photographs of him today, which was taken without any exchanges, either of pleasantries or of looks. Thanks to my friend Basu Bhattacharya, that was my first and last encounter with this great man.
The views expressed here are the author’s own and The News Porter bears no responsibility for the same.
