36 FT.COM/MAGAZINEOCTOBER19/202019
◀In 2004, Alamsetupanother agency
specificallytorepresent photographersfrom
Latin America, Asia, Africaand the Middle East.
EntitledMajority World, the agency’sname
reflectshis awareness that to describe this
vast region as “developing”ispatronising.
“Wewantedtoquestionthe westernrhetoric
of democracyand freedom because hereisthe
majority of humankindwhose voices arenot
being heard,” he says.
Alamdescribes how, whenErshad fell in 1990,
no westernagencywould takehis pictures.
“Thiswas waybeforeTahrir Square,”hesays,
referring to the 2011 protests in Egypt that
brought down HosniMubarak, “but no one
was interestedinseeing Bangladesh likethat.”
Likewhat,exactly?“A freedom-loving people
prepared to makesacrificesfor that freedom.”
ThischangedwhenNancyLee,thendeputy
pictureeditor of TheNew York Times, asked Drik
for images of devastation from the deadly cyclone
that had hit Bangladesh in 1991 but subsequently
agreed,instead, to publish its photographs of
“farmers planting seedsand fishermen rebuilding
their boats, whichshowedthe resilienceofthe
people”. Alam takesabreath. “Asfar as Ican
remember it was the onlyphoto storyofthe
cyclonethat didn’t dwell on bodies.”
Thanks in large part to Alam, Bangladesh now
boasts aprofessionalinfrastructurethat makes it
ahub for visual mediainsouth Asia and beyond.
WhenAlamwas arrested, Kolkata-basedfilm
director and photographer Ronny Sen produced
aposter describing him as “the skyinwhich we
learnt to fly”. It soon went viral.WhenIwrote
to Sen about Alam,he replied:“Thereisnot a
single documentary photographerin the [Indian]
subcontinent who is untouchedbyShahidul.”D
espite theoutpouring of support he
received,jailhas left its mark.Alam’s
natural buoyancymeanshe’squick
to highlight positive moments: the
“overwhelminglove andsupport from other
prisoners”; thephotography classesheinitiated;
themuralofhis photograph of afishing boat
that fellowinmatespainted on the wall of the
prison hospital. But whenhe murmurs, “I miss
my sparrows” –speakingof the birdshe feddaily
on his prisonwindowsill –you hear the echo
of unspoken losses. In prison, he was beaten,
blindfoldedand heavy weights were placedonhis
head;he wasthreatenedwith waterboarding and
told that his wife, the writer RahnumaAhmed,
would sufferif he refusedtomakeadeal.
Asked howhewithstood thepressure, he
talks about the civil terror that simmersbeneath
Bangladesh’s ostensible democracy.“In our flat,
we have arow of pictures of friends of ours who
have beendisappeared or murdered,”hesays.
“Thatlistjust gets bigger.”His sense ofduty to
those lost friends solderedhis resolve.“Thereare
threats that [the treatment]will get worse; that
otherswill be picked up,” he pauses.“But then
they say, ‘We’ll takeyou back home.Nothingwill
go on the record as long as youstayquiet.’ That’s
thedeal. WhenIturnedthat down, theybecame
very,very angry.”
His familyalso stood firm,defyinggovernment
expectationsthat they would “beg forgiveness
from thePM” to gainhis freedom. “Wedid
nothing of thatsort.Icame outand I’ve continued‘Kalpana’s dress’ (2014) fromtheseries‘KalpanaTrilogy’(2013-15),exploringthe 1996 ‘disappearance’ of Kalpana
Chakma,anactivistfightingfortherightsofindigenouspeople‘Morgue’(2009)fromthe‘Crossfire’ series (2009-10)–themorgueat DhakaMedicalCollegeHospitaliswheremany
victimsof extrajudicial killingsbyBangladeshi statesecurityforces aretaken‘In our flat, we have arow of
picturesoffriends whohave
beendisappearedormurdered.
Thatlist justgets bigger‘
©SHAHIDULALAM/DRIK/MAJORITYWORLD