Let me begin by thanking Sami ur Rahman for his invitation to contribute an introductory  message for his book Shades of Grey, and also for this chance to say a few words today in his praise.  

Today is a special occasion for a number of reasons.

The first is obvious. It is to welcome the arrival of Shades of Grey - the last addition to the Rehman family. This book clearly has a shared parentage. It is certainly Sami’s brainchild because it carries his name, but anyone who knows his wife Mubushra will detect her part in its conception.

I have known them too long to pay them practiced compliments. They have both been creative at extraordinary levels – both in terms of quality of output but also in the length of their productivity. My sincerest compliments to both on this, their latest joint venture.

The second reason to commemorate the release of Shades of Grey  is that it has appeared over 180 years after the first attempt at photography in Lahore.

Few of you may know that in 1846, Dr John McCosh – a Scottish surgeon - took some early images in Lahore, using calotype or sensitised paper. McCosh was part of the  East India Company forces that occupied Lahore after the Second Sikh War of 1848-49.

His ‘photographs’ (no larger than 10 cm × 8 cm) were of his fellow officers, and of such notables as the young eight year old Maharaja Duleep Singh, the rebellious Governor of Multan Dewan Mulraj, and Bikram Singh Bedi, a direct descendant of Guru Nanak.

The monuments that caught McCosh’s attention were of Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s samadhi opposite the Lahore Fort, and of the entrance to the Badshahi Mosque guarded by British soldiers. The mosque in those days was used by the British (as it had been by the Sikhs before them) as an armoury, and more dangerously as an arsenal. Divine protection saved it from becoming an 19^th century Ojhri camp.  

McCosh advised his contemporaries to take-up photography: ‘I know of no extra professional pursuit that will more repay him for all the expense and trouble (and both are very considerable) than this fascinating study—especially the new process by Collodion for the stereoscope. During the course of his service in India, he may make such a faithful collection of representations of man and animals, of architecture and landscape’.

Dr. McCosh, speaking from experience, advised that ‘the camera should stand extremes of heat. The flimsy, folding portable cameras, made light for Indian use, soon become useless. It is a great mistake to make things light and portable for Indian use, as if the owner himself had to carry them. Carriage for every piece of apparatus is cheap, safe, and abundant. French paper Canson frères is the best, and does not get damaged by damp so soon as English paper’[1]. 

Dr. McCosh gave that advice in 1856. Over the next century, the development of cameras, equipment, and techniques, photography soon replaced drawing and painting as a skill visitors to India needed to depict the landscape and monuments that riveted their attention.

The introduction into India of dry plate in 1870  and of the ‘Kodak Number One’ camera in 1888 saw the dawn of a new era in photography. The cumbersome field camera with its tripod … and the uncouth dark room’ were no longer necessary except for the professionals or for the dedicated. Amateurs could photograph things outdoors.[2]

Commercial studios sprang up all over India. Perhaps the most famous – certainly the most long-lasting - was the firm of Bourne and Shepherd.  They lasted 153 years – from 1863 to 2016, and had studios in Lahore and Murree.

In time, photography moved into a digital age. Today, every mobile phone has a camera, and everyone with a mobile phone is a Sami ur Rahman.

Then why should photographers like Sami and Zafar Ahmad (who passed away recently) still use traditional methods?

The answer lies perhaps in the nuances that a skilled photographer can achieve. Our landscape is a kaleidoscope of colour, which is why painters prefer to paint it in colour. Rarely (if ever) do they experiment, as a photographer does, into monochrome. 

And as Sami has shown us, monochrome has its own charm, its own palette, its own spectrum.

So, when you flip through the pages of Sami’s Shades of Grey, stop for a moment at each page. Savour each image slowly, attentively and with respect for the master craftsman who created them.

That other master William Shakespeare - who left his images in words – once wrote "O, call back yesterday, bid time return".

In his book, Sami has recorded our yesterdays, and made time return.

F. S. AIJAZUDDIN