Lest he be misunderstood, Chandra explains that he is not into gimmicks. "It is just that I have tried to present photography as saleable art", he says. "People should be able to display photographs on their walls for everybody to enjoy. It is not enough that they should appear only in newspapers and magazines, or at best in limited editions of coffee table books. This restrictive aspect of photography has left me cheated. Commercially also, I have felt that photography is yet to acquire the status of other art forms."Chandra’s frames are as vivid and evocative as those of impressionist paintings of yore. The architectural splendour of forgotten mansions, their beautifully decorated facades, light filtering into cavernous corridors, circular designs on ceilings, the rich textured upholstery, crimson sofas and interplay of reds, yellows and black in the plush interiors... dramatically bring to life the grandeur of a bygone era.

There are also studies in contrast: a dholak (drum) suspended against a stark background, the top-angle shot of a girl pirouetting on an empty courtyard, strings of pan-masala sachets strung across an abandoned temple, the hypnotic gaze of a village belle (model) Pratyasha Bole, actually) posing outside a door front, the tight close-up of a woman peering out of her veil while her men-folk laze about in another frame...

"I had tough time persuading the woman to lift her veil," recalls Chandra about the last two pictures. " She just refused to oblige. Much later my guide told me that women in these parts do not expose their face in front of family elders. Her father-in-law was sitting across watching us. So I clicked them separately."

A self-taught photographer who bought his first camera ("a Sure Shot for Rs 20")as an eight-year-old, Chandra remembers his first published photograph, of Waheeda Rahman shooting at Filmistan Studios in Mumbai, way back in 1962. He was barely 13 then.

Another five years passed before he became a still photographer for filmmaker Raj Khosla, clicking away merrily on the sets of Do Raaste. "Raj Khosla’s garage was in fact, my dark room," informs Chandra who was also doing the rounds of film studios and in time, graduated into a ‘star lensman’ of sorts.

Then came a shift of operation to Delhi where he did about 400 book covers over six years, besides a brief stint in The Hindustan Times. The latter gave him a break in photojournalism and Chandra was back Mumbai as a designer of Super. From there, it has been a steady rise to the top with the "encouragement of editors like Pritish Nandy, Malavika Sanghvi and Ayaz Memon", who recognised his worth.

Chandra points out that the switch from hard news to soft pictures was not sudden. "I have been doing a lot of such pictures, even though Imay not always be using them in my newspapers. Many were put in my earlier exhibitions, like the one on Britain or on Kashmiri refugees... But they were all on bromides and had no takers."

Shekhawati came out of several visits to remote townships like Nawalgarh, Dhundlov and Fatehgarh over the past four years. "It was Kamal Morarka (Who owns a sprawling haveli) with whom I first shared my plans of holding an exhibition of photo canvases", reveals Chandra. "Later on, people like Parvez Damania, Gautam Singhania, Vikas Kasliwal, Shashi Gopal and Sunil Alagh came forward."

Many others backed out, though Chandra wouldn’t name names. "The point is, it is very difficult for photographers to find sponsors for such shows. If Ihad the money, I could have done better. We have such enormous photographic talent in our country, but there is nothing to show for it. It is high time Indian photography not its due recognition." MF