Peeping into Mumbai's local trains: A unique photo-zine experience
A new photo zine by Ritesh Uttamchandani looks at the charade of stolen glances and obvious intrusions in the local train
In the recently-published photo-zine, Snoops on a Train, you feel like a fly on the wall in a typical Mumbai local train compartment. Bursting at the seams, the commuters become a part of the mass of humanity that enters this 12-rake sardine can daily. Some look out, others engage in small talk, while some read papers or remain glued to their phones—but each has one eye trained on someone else’s conversation/phone/reading material. “Everyone must obey the unwritten law of sharing till their arrival at their destination unglues them… . Observe any reader closely, and you will see that someone is peering into his business. The snooper’s interest depends on the nature of content held between the host’s loosely closed fists," writes photographer Ritesh Uttamchandani in the introduction to his self-published zine.
This is his latest publication after books such as The Red Cat and Other Stories and Where are You. As you flip through the images—all featuring male commuters—you feel like a snoop yourself, watching this charade of stolen glances and obvious intrusions unfurl in a train compartment. “I could only shoot in the gents compartment. This is also a study of the average Indian male and the misery of the work force that flows daily north to south and back," adds Uttamchandani. The reader becomes a silent spectator to this blurring of lines between the public and the private.
This “chronicle of a quirky sub-culture of shared reading" features photos shot 2012 onwards. Uttamchandani has experimented with the format of the zine by underpinning the structure and sequencing. He has stacked together the photos to create new images. So, if one part of the image is printed on page 2, another part of it is on page 36.
This was not the format that he had initially envisioned. While making the dummy in 2021, he put all the images in linear sequence. However, by the second or third spread, he was thoroughly bored of it. So, he opened up the stapled dummy and placed the images differently. “I started stacking them on top of one another and then folded the spreads. That’s how different parts of the images appear on different pages. This going back and forth between the pages plays into the concept of peeping. New scenarios and fleeting relationships open up," says Uttamchandani, who divides his time between Liverpool and Mumbai. It might be considered unconventional by purist standards—this breaking of the image—but the photo-artist wanted to challenge the form.
Snoops on a Train is a “silent zine", sans words or explanations. Given the sensorial overload that we experience daily, especially on social media, with photos always accompanied by elaborate captions and voice overs, Uttamchandani wanted to allow the viewers to soak in the images and make their own connections with them. “I don’t need words here….sometimes they erode curiosity," he says.
How significant is the photo book or zine to his language of experimentation? In Uttamchandani’s view, its importance has never really waned. However, he treats it with a certain irreverence—creating his own form and language. “The photo book is a term that came into use in the last decade. Before that it was the coffee table that was prevalent. And now there is the zine, which has certain attributes attached with it—a sense of resilience and urgency. I don’t adhere to any of those things. Who decides these attributes?" he asks.
As someone who grew up on short stories, folktales and a hearty diet of newspapers, the idea of reading and the book is very important to him. The photo book thus becomes a significant form in that context. However, he wants to steer clear of the expensive coffee table format—associated with affluent patrons, elaborate production styles and thick tomes. “I want to keep it simple and make sure that the photo books reach beyond the circle of artists and photojournalists. By designing intuitively and printing locally, I keep the form affordable and accessible without compromising the story telling," he says.
