36 FT.COM/MAGAZINEOCTOBER19/202019
◀In 2004, Alamsetupanother agency
specificallytorepresent photographersfrom
Latin America, Asia, Africa and the Middle East.
EntitledMajorityWorld, the agency’sname
reflectshis awareness that to describe this
vast region as“developing”ispatronising.
“Wewantedtoquestionthe western rhetoric
of democracyand freedom because hereist he
majority of humankind whosevoices arenot
being heard,” he sa ys.
Alam describes how, when Ershad fell in 1990,
no westernagencywould takehis pictures.
“This was waybeforeTahrir Square,”hesays,
referring to the 2011 protests in Egypt that
brought down Hosni Mubarak,“but no one
was interestedins eeing Bangladesh likethat.”
Likewhat,exactl y?“A freedom-lovingpeople
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 1991but subsequently
agreed,instead, to publish its photographs of
“farmers planting seedsand fishermenrebuilding
their boats, whic hshowedthe resilienceoft he
people”. Alam takesabreath. “Asfar as Ican
remember it wasthe onlyphoto storyoft he
cyclonethat didn’t dwell onbodies.”
Thanks in large part to Alam, Bangladesh now
boasts aprofessionalinfrastructurethat makes it
ahub for visual mediains outh Asia andbeyond.
When Alam was arrested, Kolkata-basedfilm
director and photographerRonny Sen produced
aposter describing him as “the skyinwhich we
learnt tofly”. It soonwent viral. WhenIwrote
to Sen about Alam, hereplied:“Thereisn ot a
single documentary photographer in the [Indian]
subcontinent who is untouchedbyShahidul .”D
espite theoutpouring of support he
received,jailhas left its mark. Alam’s
natural buoyancymeanshe’squick
to highlightpositive moments: the
“overwhelminglove andsupport from other
prisoners”; thephotography classeshei nitiat ed;
themuralofh is photograph ofafishingboat
that fellowinmatespainted on the wall of the
prison hospital. But when he murmurs, “I miss
my sparrows” –speaking of the birds he feddaily
on his prison windowsill –you hear theecho
of unspoken losses. In prison, he wasbeaten,
blindfoldedand heavyweights were placedonhis
head; he wasthreatenedwith waterboarding and
told that his wife, the writer RahnumaAhmed,
would suffer if herefusedtomakeadeal.
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.
“That listjust gets bigger.”His sense ofduty to
those lost fr iends solderedhis resolve.“Thereare
threats that [the treatment]will getworse; that
otherswill be picked up,” he pauses.“But then
they say, ‘We’ll tak eyou backhome.Nothingwill
go on therecord as long asyoustayquiet .’ That’s
thedeal. WhenIturnedthat down, theybecame
very,very angry.”
His familyalso stood firm,defying government
expectationsthat they would “beg forgiveness
from thePM” to gai nhis fr eedom. “Wedid
nothing of thatsort.Icame outand I’ve continued‘Kalpana’s dress’ (2014) from theseries‘KalpanaTrilogy’(2013-15),exploring the 1996 ‘disappearance’ of Kalpana
Chakma, an activist fightingforthe rightsofindigenouspeople‘Morgue’(2009)fromthe‘Crossfire’ series (2009-10)–themorgueat DhakaMedicalCollegeHospitaliswheremany
victims ofextrajudicial killingsbyBangladeshi state securityforces aretaken‘In our flat,we have arow of
picturesof friends who have
been disappearedormurdered.
That listjustgets bigger‘
©SHAHIDUL ALAM/DRIK/MAJORITYWORLD