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All bureaucracies of the
world have on thing in common. They all consume huge amounts of
photographs, the kind that are known as passport photos. Entry passes
to factories and offices, bus passes, driving licences, ration cards,
job applications, passports and visa applications are but a few
instances where one is required to submit a photograph. One never
knows when or where one might need to produce one. Before the advent
of Polaroid instant picture cameras, people must have been hard put
to meet unexpected demands. But not in Delhi. A rare species of
street photographers have been providing Delhiites with an instant
photo service, since long before the age of the Polaroid.
Their rarity lies not in
their speed or their competitive value, but in their method of work
and in the equipment they use. The camera doubles up as a laboratory
too. They use no artificial lights and no timers. Not even a wrist
watch. They don’t even use film! A little bit of paper and
sleight of hand is all that is required. To an innocent countryman,
the ritual is not very different from that of the local witch doctor.
The camera-cum-laboratory
is a wooden box mounted on a tripod, about 50 cm long and 30 cm deep.
At the front of the box is a lens mounted on a bellow, the kind that
were in use at the turn of this century. At the top is a shaded
window from which one can peep into the lab section of the gizmo. At
the back is a long tube of dark cloth through which the photographer
puts his hand inside the camera. Inside at the front end, just behind
the lens, is a metal frame with a removable, handmade foxing glass.
There is no aperture control and no shutter mechanism. The lens cap,
an old, discussed bottle cap serves both purpose. In the lab section,
are two compartments of pre-cut bromide paper, a tray of developer
and a tray of fixer. A bucket of water, to wash the new prints, a
pair of scissors, to trim them and finally, a chair for the customer,
are the other constituents of these street photo studios.
They are located in a 50
meter corridor, adjacent to the Jain Temple, opposite the Red Forte
on the street that leads into Chandni Chowk. From among the unending
stream of humanity that passes through this premier bazaar of Delhi,
the photographers keep a sharp look out for likely customers. With
their keen eyes, they make few mistakes. 99 times out of a hundred, a
deal is struck. The customer is made to sit on a chair at point blank
distance from the lens, and given a hand held mirror to check that
his face is in order and ready to be photographed. The photographer
opens the back of the camera and looks through the lens. He adjusts
the bellow and the tripod to make sure that the subject is in frame.
When the frame is in order he inserted the foxing glass an closes the
back of the camera. After that he puts his hand through the cloth
tube inside the camera and carefully takes a square of bromide paper
from the lab section and inserts it behind the foxing glass. And
then with a look at the sky to determine light availability, he asks
the subject to hold still and with a flourish resembling a stage
magicians he removes the lens cap for a random duration between one
and five seconds.
The exposed bromide paper
is developed immediately and brought out of the box, to be used as a
negative. The hair is touched up with cyanide to ensure that the
print shows black hair and the face is coloured with red ink, to
maintain an even tone. Having thus prepared the negative, it is
mounted on a board in front of the lens and the same process, as with
the customer, is repeated. As many times as the number of copies
required. In the next few moments,the chemicals are washed off, they are trimmed, wiped on the sleeve of the photographer’s shirt and delivered, while still wet. The
whole process takes just five minutes and costs eight rupees.
No modern photographer
can match their speed or price. Business is booming. Yet they are
actually on the decline. There are only a handful of them; about ten
in Chandni Chowk and another ten spread out in other parts of the
city. There was a time when there were several times that number. But
of late, there are no new takers for the profession. The present day
photographers themselves do not wish their children to take to it,
because they think that as pavement businessmen, they are at the
lowest rung of the bazaar hierarchy. A pity, because they serve an
extremely useful service. The quality of the photographs does leave
something to be desired. But then, who cares? They are only meant for
the consumption of the bureaucracy, who can hardly claim to have any
aesthetic taste. The imperfect quality not withstanding, the Chandni
Chowk photographers are worth their weight in gold. Often, they are
like angels of mercy! Without them, one might have had to suffer long
painful delays, when speed might have been of the essence.
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