KEEPING TRACK Photobook By Rachit Arora
It's easy to say India's rail network is the largest in the world. The challenge is when you take it upon yourself to realise it's true span. This series reflects one such journey I took. A journey through which I uncovered a truth - that it isn't just the bricks and the mortar and the steel that make up Indian Railways. At the heart of it, there's a stronger force at play that keeps it together. The force of several thousand, or maybe millions of people whose lifelines are connected, like train tracks. Hurried passengers, circling security guards, stock-still staff workers in dim lit rooms, locals huddling for a game of taash, the cleaning staff, the fruit seller, the chaiwala, the chor, the sipaahi, and about a zillion such lives creating an ecosystem that works like clock work.
Journeys are funny things. More often than not, they begin close to home, and when they end - if they end at all, that is - they leave you with a plethora of experiences that last a lifetime. For me, this journey was a brazen experiment. Young, still in college, curious to explore 'people' photography thanks to a summer internship I landed with S Paul, it didn't take me a second thought before I was sending long applications in devanagari to Indian railway authorities for permission. The permissions came through, yes, and I admit it wasn't easy, but the stories that followed once I was out the door somehow made it all seem worthwhile.
There were good days, and bad. Being held by my collar and put in a makeshift lock-up was certainly a first. The reason? The security personnel appointed at the station couldn't quite understand why I wanted to photograph 'steel'. Now, to reason it out with an angry policeman that I was there for 'still photography' and that all the Railway's steel didn't quite amuse me much, was out of question. And so, I played along until someone understood those nearly illegible signatures on the Indian Railways letterhead I carried like my emergency water supply. I was let off with a warning to not photograph any 'steel', and I pretty much kept that promise throughout. And then there were times when I spent lazy evenings at abandoned stations where the trains don't stop anymore, but where the locals still gather every day for a game of rummy with the station master, with chai being an integral part of this ritual. From bogeys converted into shabby but comfortable living quarters that give a sense of being home no less, to babus in cramped-up rooms, their tables and cupboards brimming with paperwork of yore, who appear warm, welcoming, and intrigued to see an unfamiliar face taking pictures of things too routine to them, this journey brought along experiences that in a way shaped my curiosity for people, places and the most commonplace of things.