Having learned photography from Maneckshaw Vyarawalla, whom she married
later, Homai was to spend nearly three decades of her career in Delhi. After a
career of 33 years as press photographer, Homai gave it up one day at the age
of 57, disillusioned when the Nehruvian dream began to falter. She lived in
near-anonymity until 1989. Fiercely independent, she continued to live on her
own in Vadodara until she passed away.
Prime Minister Nehru with Mrs. Simon, the wife of the
British Deputy High Commissioner, on board the first BOAC flight in India.
Photos courtesy: Homai Vyarawalla archive, Alkazi Collection of Photography
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While much will hopefully be written in the coming years
about Vyarawalla's professional contribution as a pioneering professional — she
was India's first woman press photographer who captured the first three decades
of a nation in transition — what stays with me are memories of an elderly Homai
Vyarawalla who I met when she was 87. Her memory was razor sharp even though it
needed a little jogging to set her recounting stories and anecdotes that
spanned almost a century of Indian history. She was an untrained but skilled
archivist. She meticulously preserved her beautiful monochrome prints and
negatives in boxes and hand-made negative jackets stored in Tupperware cases.
For years, she struggled to protect them from the humid climate of Vadodara and
was palpably relieved when they were finally handed over to the Alkazi
Foundation in Delhi on permanent loan.
Everything put to use
Nothing that came Homai's way was discarded easily.
Everything was put to good use. Her simple and sparse home had pieces of
driftwood that looked like sculpture. Her walking stick, polished with age, was
carved out of a piece of wood while her nameplate was made from broken glass
bangles. Many who knew her intimately wanted to photocopy her hand-written book
of recipes and medical home remedies. She could also cut her own hair and
tailor her own clothes. She once sawed an oversized baking tray, repaired my
slippers and fixed the plumbing in her water tank. All this and more when she
was well into her nineties!
She often said she was like Robinson Crusoe. Her island was
her home in Vadodara where she lived independently till the end with her plants
and a few personal photographs.
Time spent with Homai in Vadodara had a different quality.
We always talked about photography but as the years went by and we became
closer, our conversations about the grand events of history melted into smaller
more intimate discussions about the everyday. Belonging as she did to a middle
class Parsi family, Homai had to struggle for most of her life. She always said
that had she not become a photographer, she would have joined any other
profession that was available to her. Not working was never an option for her.
Her father, an actor in a travelling Urdu-Parsi Theatre troupe had to borrow
money to return to India when his company declared bankruptcy in Rangoon. He
died soon after and Homai's mother augmented the family income by weaving the
parsi kusti (sacred thread). Homai was the only girl in her class in the
Gujarati school where she studied.
Thereafter, she received a diploma at St Xavier's College.
She studied further at the JJ School of Arts in Bombay where she was introduced
to many of the subjects of her early photographs, including the beautiful
Rehana Mogul.
Captured official histories
Homai learnt photography from her boyfriend Maneckshaw who
she later married. The two would walk the streets of Bombay in the 1930s and
early 40s taking photographs. In 1942, they moved to Delhi and as employees of
the British Information Services were plunged into the thick of nationalist
politics. Homai photographed official histories as they unfolded but she also
captured images of leisure as elite Indians and expatriates met at social
functions at the gymkhana club in Delhi. She photographed marriage ceremonies,
school functions, fancy dress parties and more.
Adventurous
Homai was an adventurous woman. Stranded in Sikkim, she
hitched a ride back on an army truck after taking images of a young Dalai Lama
crossing the border in 1959. Once she came tumbling down while trying to shoot
Mohammad Ali Jinnah, bringing to a halt the proceedings of his last press
conference the day before he left for Pakistan in 1947. Homai's fall brought a
smile on Jinnah's face.
She had also photographed the meeting of the Congress
Working Committee that ratified the decision to Partition the country. Acharya
Kripalani, who was chairing the meeting, was not happy to have photographers
around so Homai had to keep ducking behind the benches. Her desire to discover
new frontiers made her travel to the U.S. and the U.K. at the age of 95 in
2008. When she saw the statue of Gandhi at Tavistock Park, her only comment was
that he was not wearing spectacles!
Homai's last birthday brought a stream of visitors to her
house. The Parsi Dharamshala sent us a delicious parsi meal and we went
shopping for a new television set. In the evening, we cut a cake and, as it got
dark, Homai held a lamp in her hand and pretended to cast a spell over us. The
next day, I recorded an interview with her. She said this was the first time
she had ever celebrated her birthday. Talking about the future she said: “My
body may be wrecked and wasting away but my spirit is as young as when I was
40. It resides within this body like a tortoise. When the time comes to go, it
will only be leaving this temporary home.” Her only regret was that she had
started to fall sick and she hated that. In another interview, she said she
would not mind coming back to the same kind of life once again, “because I like
this life very much.” She was looking forward to going to New York for an
exhibition of her work in a few months. What else would you wish for? I asked.
Her reply was simple: “Good friends, peace and quiet and to be able to sit in
the sun.”
As the evening ended, I realised to my shock and
disappointment that I had accidentally erased the interview. I tried returning
to the subject but that moment had passed. By now the sun had set and Homai
looked tired. I returned home depressed that I had lost that interview till a
friend suggested that perhaps certain moments are not meant to be recorded but
treasured in our memories.
As a friend bids farewell to you for now Mrs. Vyarawalla, I
wish you a happy birthday once again. I have been privileged to have known you
and I hope that wherever you are, you have found peace and that quiet place to
sit in the sun.
Doing it myself
At 94, I drive, do my grocery shopping, cook, clean, take
care of my plants, give myself a haircut and can even stitch myself a dress! I
am a photojournalist and I believe myself to be a good homemaker as well. I
don't believe in giving myself big titles.
Pictures as history
I was passionate about photography and journalism, and I did
my work honestly. Today, I am happy that the photographs are helping young
Indians to take a glimpse of those glorious years when we fought for our
independence.
Picture perfect
One of my pictures has captured an intensely private moment
between Jawaharlal Nehru and Vijayalakshmi Pandit. Panditji had come to receive
Vijayalakshmi, who was then the Indian Ambassador to the USSR, and as she
landed at the airport in Delhi, he hugged her spontaneously. It was a beautiful
rare moment between a brother and a sister and I was lucky to be there to frame
it for eternity.
Life is beautiful, and 'funny'!
Once, a Jamaican woman from America came to meet me. At that
time, my car had the number DLD-13. She assumed that it was my name as well!
When she made a film on me, it was called Dalda 13. For those who saw the film,
my name must have sounded very exotic and strange!
Precious memories
My pictures of Dalai Lama when he first came to India are
also very precious. I got my best pictures in the years 1954-56.
On the Patan incident
I am deeply concerned about the security of women. What
happened in Patan is deplorable.
Celebrating womanhood
As women, we have immense choices and reasons to celebrate,
but we have a responsibility as well. I started my career in 1943. I remember I
used to drive on my bicycle, during the midnight in Delhi. I always felt safe,
and I never faced an incident of eve teasing. Very fewwomen were journalists
then, and most preferred to stay home. It was a choice that they were
comfortable with. I feel, whatever you do in life, you have to be content and
happy. Gracious and not prone to frivolities. I might sound conservative but a
personal sense of morality is important. Celebrating womanhood is not just
about glamorous clothes or beauty, it is about a philosophy of life.
