Remembering Raghu Rai through a personal lens

Much will be said about his extraordinary body of work, his visual record of our times, remarkable eye and charisma. But to me, he was simply my Raghuuncle.

“Munna” was a word Raghu Rai--Raghuuncle to me--used for anyone he loved. Today, the man whose every pore breathed India, whose every image was an overwhelming interpretation of this spirit, has left us. All of us Munnas feel suddenly orphaned.

Raghu Rai, one of India's best-known photographers whose lens captured India in its many shades, died at the age of 83, at a private hospital. (PTI)

He was a close friend and colleague of my father, Kishor Parekh. Together, along with his elder brother S Paul, they changed the face of photojournalism in India. For me, he was also the constant presence through my growing years--a guest in our home, and later, the guiding light who led me into photography after my father passed away.

“Each one of us will have to step aside one day, so that new energies can come and flow…” he once told me. Today, he steps aside. But it is hard to believe that any energy can replace his power—his ability to understand life, and to capture its essence in a way only he could. Raghu Rai was, unarguably, our last living photography legend. This feels like the closing of an era.

Much will be said about his extraordinary body of work--his visual record of our times, his remarkable eye, his presence, his charisma. But to me, he was simply my Raghuuncle. I will miss your jhappis, your warmth, your quiet divinity, your baritone voice calling out my name.

As you and my father reunite after so many years, I imagine there will be little conversation beyond photography. Keep shooting wherever you are, while we remain here, holding on to your images--and to your familiar exclamation whenever you saw a great photograph: “Kya baat hai…”