My days with S Paul, an innovator in photography

His last wish was to be cremated in an electric crematorium. “Please ensure that my body is not put on a traditional pyre; I hate to see wood getting burnt,” he told his wife a few weeks ago. No, he did not want his ashes to be strewn in the holy Ganges. The earth he loved so much would be just fine.

The first S Paul picture I ever saw was in The Indian Express when Gulzarilal Nanda was watching an agitation against cow slaughter from the Parliament corridor. This was on November 7, 1966, and I was an undergraduate student at Khalsa College then.

Born in 1929, on August 19, in Jhang, Pakistan, S Paul died on the night of August 16, just a couple of days shy of his 88th birthday. A self-taught photographer, who joined The Indian Express in 1962 and retired from the same newspaper in 1989.

I remember the discussion in college we had about the photograph because I was interested in photography. I carried hopes of meeting the creator of this photograph. But, I finally met him only in 1972. This was the beginning of a guru-chela relationship and I was all of 22 then. I had quit my government job to follow in his footsteps.

I would accompany him to his office, carry his bags and from there we would go to the zoo. Even the animals had begun recognising him. Then we would move around Delhi, capturing images and around 2 pm he would go to pick his wife up from a school in Paharganj.

I would again reach his house by evening and then we would begin our work in the dark room to process the film, then we would make prints. I would usually sleep in the dark room as I would go home only twice or thrice a week. This routine continued even when I joined National Herald for the first time in 1973.

His photography discipline was sacrosanct – he had to take new photographs each day, he would process them and make prints to send them out the next day. Even after retirement he continued with the routine. I am told he shot some photographs even a few weeks before his death. He would shoot while lying in bed or while sitting in the balcony.

I had gone with S Paul to assist him to cover the Lucknow flood for The Indian Express and once we came back, in my innocence, I gave a couple of pictures to another paper. It must have been the greed to see my photograph appearing in a newspaper. But, unfortunately The Indian Express carried the same photographs. And that was the first time he became angry with me. He took away my camera and refused to speak to me for 10 days. Eventually he pardoned me and I was warned against such behaviour in future.

His dedication towards photography and his craftsmanship in creating photographic equipment to suit his needs is unparalleled. He would collect lenses and bodies and created something new. He was a man who would let his camera do the talking. He was a willing mentor to many young photographers, who would come to him with many queries. It didn’t matter to him whether they were strangers or friends.

He is survived by his wife, two sons and three grandsons. His sons Neeraj and Dheeraj Paul are also photographers. His brother Raghu Rai is also a well-known photographer.

(As told to Ashlin Mathew)