No headline-grabbing news event unfolds before our eyes. There is no decisive moment here. No celebrities. The stillness in the photograph is deceptive, for time flows eternal in this stage. Nothing changes. The women appear suspended in time. Their toil, wages, status within a deeply hierarchical society, and tenuous existence are all frozen in an immutable societal structure. Factory owners may change, and new coal dust may pass through their lungs, but their lot is unchanging. They will always be paid below the minimum daily wage, set way below that required for basic living. The fine mist of charcoal that swirls around the women wraps them in a gentle light. There is no comfort in this optical blanket. Asthma, bronchitis, cancer if they live long enough, will take their toll. Some workers will die, new ones will seamlessly take their place. Express highways and shiny city lights, the outward display of ‘development’ will matter little to them. Increased per capita income will not translate to food on their plate. They toil, because they must.
Other photographs adorning the walls tell different stories, largely denied by politicians. Police, guns pointed, baton in hand, charge at unarmed protesters and kick over wheelchairs while a young man, defiant as he stands bare-chested, dares them. His singularity against a wall of helmeted publicly-funded oppressors is a stark reminder of the distance public service has moved away from the public. Sometimes, tables are turned, and another policeman cowers under a makeshift shield, protected by the very public who bear the brunt of police brutality. When the law itself is a means of coercion, the rule of law loses meaning.
Some resist eviction. Nearing midnight, a four-year-old, tired from a day’s toil selling flowers, steals a moment to sleep by the wayside, perhaps to dream. Rudely awakened, she returns to her chore. A disturbed mind, precariously perched on an electric pole, reaches out to a society ill-equipped to understand her. Pollution, waste, and sheer disregard, the ills we have failed to curb, stare us in the face. Amidst this chaos, this utter helplessness, people find different ways to pray, play, and say. Farmers trade, firemen recover, a cat-owner walks on a catwalk. Life goes on.
This is the resilience this exhibition tries to capture. The indomitable spirit that will not be subdued by stolen elections, corrupt officials, or warlords disguised as leaders. The dreams of a proud people pitted against the reality they face. Their rights and their aspirations against the greed of representatives they are said to have appointed. The veneer of democracy versus the brutality of autocrats. Despite Pegasus, despite weapons deals, students still wave Palestinian flags. Rocketing food prices and vanishing farmlands fail to dampen religious festivals, boat races, or village sports. The photographs represent a will to live, to overcome and hopefully to prevail. It is tyranny stared in the face. The resistance of a people who will not be denied.
Shahidul Alam
July 2024
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