wetlands

“I might be physically close or far from the subject, but when I am successful in my photography I am never spiritually separated.” — Laila Nahar

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Laila Nahar and collaborator Tanveer Khondker take us to the world’s largest contiguous mangrove ecosystem in this exclusive interview about her project, Living With The Tides. The images majestically capture the time-stopping and elemental beauty of Bangladesh’s Padma River Delta’s Sundarbans.

Follow on Instagram: @naharlaila

What initially drew you to the Sundarbans and what sparked your fascination with the Padma River Delta?

My background from Bangladesh continues to shape my artistic identity and my work goes back to my roots in the Indian subcontinent, namely Bangladesh and India. While I was growing up, I was naturally getting fascinated with the Sundarbans – the world’s largest contiguous mangrove ecosystem shared by Bangladesh and India at the southernmost edge of the Bengal Delta. The same applies for my interest with the Padma. The rivers and rivulets, emerging primarily from the Ganga-Padma flow, create this incredible weave of land and water that is the mark of the delta – Bangladesh. There in the delta, along the shores of the Padma, where things are raw, elemental and primitive in the best sense. Water is everywhere and everything. The people of this delta are the Bangalis. I am a part of this delta and this is what has shaped me.

Due to the course of life and norm of the time, I got into engineering. Eventually, I migrated to the USA to continue higher studies in the field. My fascination for photography travelled with me. As any other immigrant having an American dream, I decided to settle in this country and started a job in the high-tech industry. I found myself getting nostalgic for Bangladesh, searching for my soul and questioning myself. I had questions — Can I still connect myself to Bangladesh? How can I reveal that human landscape which for me has never faded? I have been visiting Bangladesh every year, trying to re-discover my carefree days and reclaiming the land and its people and continuing my exploration of collective memories. This was the time when I made multiple journeys to the Sundarbans – this immense tidal jungle covering a mosaic of islands separated by a thousand winding creeks and rivers. My interest only grew stronger for this ever-changing but fragile habitat. Over time, Living with the tides – The Sundarbans became the handmade artist photo book of the Sundarbans.

It is beautiful to hear that you consider yourself to be part of the land. This begs me to question, how would you describe the relationship between the people and the Sundarbans environment? And what role do the local communities play in this landscape?

The Sundarbans plays an important role in the economy and livelihood of the southwestern region of Bangladesh and the Indian State of West Bengal. For Bangladesh, it is the largest single source of forest produce. People started living near the Sundarbans more than 220 years back when the colonial British administration decided to cut the forest down. Workers from other regions of the then Indian subcontinent were brought in claiming the area as laborers and agrarians. After 1875, when more than half of the Sundarbans had already been cleared, the remnants of the jungle gained protection as a reserved forest under the administration of the Forest Department. The Forest Department manages and controls commercial exploitations of the Sundarbans, mainly with the aim of sustaining the economic benefit extracted from the forest and conserving the eco-system. The population density is still rising; people living near the Sundarbans are primarily woodcutters, fishermen or honey collectors.

Many varieties of economically valuable trees and shrubs grow in the Sundarbans forest. Mangrove wood, the raw material for house and boat-building, hardboard, charcoal, furniture and fuel wood, is the most important forest produce. The wood-cutters, known locally as ‘bawalis’, use axes for cutting down the trees and live on wooden barges anchored in close proximity to each other, forming temporary floating camps. When the barges are fully loaded, the men pull them out of the small creeks by ropes and sheer muscle power. With the help of the tides and oars the loads are transported upstream. The varied environmental conditions in the Sundarbans provide a rich habitat for fish, mollusks and crustaceans. The fish stock is so abundant that no great effort was required to get an adequate catch. The honey collectors, locally called ‘mowalis’, search for wild honey and wax in the forest – which is one of the most strenuous activities. Traditionally, most people dependent on forest resources follow unwritten laws and rely on protective rituals. But as the population of the neighboring districts rises steadily, so does the number of livelihoods the forest must sustain.

People entering the Sundarbans are exposed continually to danger: encounters with tigers, crocodiles, sharks and poisonous snakes, as well as river pirates. Natural calamities – storms, cyclones, whirlpools and tidal bores – pose another threat. The people here live in connection with the jungles and rivers all around them. They ask goddess Bonbibi for protection. Old, experienced people believe that their best defense against any harm in the Sundarbans is a devout, god-fearing life, a clear mind, respect, and the sparing use of the forest resources. 

You mention in your statement how fascinated you are by the “secretive splendor” and the sense of time slowing down in the Sundarbans. … Are there any specific times of day or weather conditions you gravitate to over others?

The magic of the mangrove swamps had me in its grip. Suspended and still, the mist fills the spaces between the mangrove and the water reflects the physical experience: the mystery of the forest, the heron walking on the edge of the water, few spotted deer grazing quiet, a kingfisher leading the boats on, or the prickling sense of heightened awareness. This is how I intend to make the viewer feel the slowing of time. The mist fills the gaps to show the spaces between, as if we can slip through and escape time itself. Those who have not experienced a mangrove swamp of this dimension will find it difficult to comprehend what the Sundarbans could offer. 

I loved the physical experience of going by the creeks in the quiet of the morning or evening when I’m there. The sensation of everything is ‘In Stillness’ and that time has slowed down and that the forest and everything within it exists in a different state. Somehow set apart from our usual perception of linear time as the wind drops, the air cools, all is quiet and still and the forest draws in. It was like moment of eternity and stillness in passing by the winding creeks and rivers, immerged into fog and plucking strands of lives in ever-changing habitat. The forest is always present, binding the mangroves, water and the habitats. 

I had John Berger in my mind as he described in his book Hold Everything Dear: Dispatches on Survival and Resistance: “A forest is what exists between its trees, between its dense undergrowth and its clearings, between all its life cycles and their different time-scales…A forest is a meeting place between those who enter it and something unnameable and attendant…Something intangible and within touching distance. Neither silent nor audible.”

In the handmade book Living With The Tides – The Sundarbans, the focus was to show the slowing of the time in the Sundarbans and its mysteries. I showed the fragility through the structures of eight Leoporello panels attached loose and opening on either side, exploring the quietness of the mangrove ecosystem. I printed text on a layer of translucent vellum covering the image of the ‘mangrove and boat’ prints on Japanese paper on background; depending on how the vellum is held, the text will appear to go out of focus and so does the image depicting the peril the Sundarbans is facing today due to climate change and human interference.

How do you approach your subjects, whether human or non-human? Do you prefer to keep a distance from what you photograph?

Irrespective of the subject, human or non-human, the goal is always to engage with the fundamental wholeness of nature, the way that things are linked together and the story it tells. The proximity and engagement are dictated by whether I am an element of the story or not. Say I intend to capture the curious eyes of a child watching a visitor then I would be in proximity, engaged in the story. If I am capturing the carefree freedom of their play, then my physical presence must remain as obscure as possible from the scene. But I believe irrespective of the physical distance, one cannot truly capture the essence of the story without feeling the oneness. That is when we can see what lies in-between, how the elements are weaved together. That is when we capture the continuity of time and space across the frame of the capture. It’s no longer a frame frozen in time but an eternal story. So, I guess I might be physically close or far from the subject, but when I am successful in my photography I am never spiritually separated.

How does distancing oneself from the community being photographed impact the storytelling of the work? Have you run into any ethical concerns while working on this project?

Proximity and involvement always have profound impact on the story telling. Whether it is human, non-human, animate or inanimate, one’s presence would always alter the abstract energy of the story. Then the question always remains what the intent of the story is, what level of alteration tells the essence of the story that one intent to tell. It can be being fully engaged to complete obscurity. The goal is to see and feel the story. When successfully done, one will always find themselves in the optimal proximity.

Ethical concerns and dilemma are always part of any journey. No matter how faint, we never walk a path that we don’t leave our footprints upon. I always find myself in the ethical dilemma whether my presence would alter the fundamental spirit of the ecosystem. I consider that to be a valuable tool in my disposal. That is what enables me to be respectful and appreciative. It guides me to navigate the lands and feelings with gentleness. I would always leave behind something and I will always take back something; and I strive to tread such that our spirits are enriched on both sides. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail.

While working on this project I did not face any ethical issue as per say, but as I mentioned the dilemma is always there. But the way I explored had been gentle, respectful and nonintrusive.

Your work reminds us of Benjamin Dimmit’s Elegy for Wetlands. Considering the realities of climate change and human impact on the Sundarbans, do you consider the project to be an elegy to a disappearing ecosystem?

I have not gone through Benjamin Dimwit’s work; will check up. I do consider this project as an elegy to a disappearing ecosystem. A staggering diversity of life forms in the Sundarbans find themselves in the verge of extinction between deforestation originating from the north and rising seas (due to global climate change) to the south. I am keenly aware that the Sundarbans has almost reached that ‘tipping point’ where further damage by humans could push the ecosystem into an ecological tailspin, from which the tiger and its co-inhabitants may never recover. The U.N. Food and Agriculture organization suggests that “mangroves today cover around 15 million hectares (ha.) worldwide, down from 18.8 million ha. in 1980.” Roughly, one million hectares of this globally threatened heritage exists as the Sundarbans (spread across both India and Bangladesh). The latest blow is the establishment of the Rampal coal power plant set up within 14km of the Sundarbans which poses serious threat to this unique ecosystem exposing the downriver forests to pollution and acid rain. 

How do you envision this project contributing to the ongoing efforts to conserve and restore the Sundarbans for future generations?

I don’t know how exactly my work would contribute to shaping the future of Sundarbans. It might ignite sparks in the brilliant minds of new generations to come and snowball into something great. Or it may just as well die down. I believe one never truly know the series of events that may follow one’s actions. I have been simply driven by the urge that it is for me to capture the fleeting beauty of Sundarbans, present it to the world as best as I can and follow the path it may carve out to continuously bring awareness of the consequences of our actions.

Can you describe some of the specific experiences, anecdotes, or moments in the Sundarbans that have left a lasting impression on you?

Too many. 

In the last human habitat near the Sundarbans, there is a village called ‘Khejuria’. We went to the village. Bonbibi Puja was next day, and the Priest was reciting the timeless stories of Bonbibi – the mangrove forest goddess – a diety revered by Hindus and Muslims alike. 

The complete silence in the morning. The dense fog covering everything around. Feeling of ‘now’ for that moment and nothing after.

The kingfisher guiding the boat, flashing its wings and the spotted deer quietly looking at us. 

All the magnificent moments!

I do not want any of these to be just memories from the past for the future.

To wrap things up could you tell us the stories behind these specific images?

We saw this boat (first image) during one of our morning rides inside one of the creeks. Just the boat and its reflection was telling the story of the boatman. 

The second image is near the Kotka beach. It was low tide. Suddenly a bunch of spotted deer passed running. The mangrove trees with exposed roots, the sand, the tide and the deer all made it whole.

About the artist

Laila Nahar is a lens-based artist and book-maker in California, USA. She lived her life in stark cultural contrast, born and brought up in Bangladesh and eventually migrated to US in her late 20’s for pursuing higher studies in Engineering. Laila retired from the high-tech industry after 24 years to devote full-time for the passion of her life as a photo and book artist.

Laila is primarily a self-taught photographer and book-artist exploring belonging, memory, cultural and collective identity. She took workshops with Eugene Richards, Frank Espada, Amy Arbus, Keith Carter, Nevada Wier and Emin Ozmen (Magnum), Aline Smithson. Lately, she has become increasingly fascinated with hand-made photo book making and attended workshops with Elizabeth Avedon, Void Impromptu (Publisher), Melanie McWhorter, Center of Book Arts in NYC, Yumi Goto and Susan Kae Grant.

Laila attended CODEX 2024 with 7 of her handmade Artist photobooks. ‘Will you come to Rome with me?‘ selected for DUMMY AWARD24 shortlist. ‘I Have Been Here Before’ photobook selected for ‘12th Annual Self-Published PhotoBook Show’ (‘22); shortlist in the Independent Category Lucie Photo Book Prize 2022 and, featured in PhotoBook Journal. ‘Unfolding: Color of Life – Old Delhi’ photobook selected for ‘13th Annual Self-Published PhotoBook Show’ at Griffin Museum of Photography (‘23) and selected as one of best photobooks in 2022 by Women/non-binary on TheLuupe.com. It was honorable mention in “Back on the Shelf” by FilterPhoto in exhibition (‘23). Photographs of these projects in several group exhibitions by PH21, F-Stop, PhotoPlace, SEC4P, thecuratedfridge, 18th Julia Margaret Award, Griffin Museum of Photography etc.

Laila’s handmade artist photobooks are in permanent collections of several libraries, including University of Colorado Boulder Libraries, Rhode Islands School of Design, University of Richmond (Virgina), Harvey Milk Photo Center (San Francisco) etc.

Interview by Vicente Isaías.