Archive

Jamshed Manekji Patell, my father, was a photo artist in Allahabad. His special daylight studio had the correct dimensions to catch the brightness and softness of natural light. Three quarters of one wall was glass (protected by an iron rail), as was one part of the roof.
Photographs and portraits of the Nehru family were done by him. In the showroom there was an enlargement of Jawaharlal Nehru and his sister Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit in their first khadi outfits. He had taken photographs of Indira Gandhi in her initial years and was the official photographer at her wedding to Feroze Gandhi. The historic Anand Bhavan, a museum focusing on the Nehru family, has photographs bearing dad’s signature J. M. Patell.
The High Court judges of Allahabad had their photographs taken and enlarged by him. He had specially designed chairs to denote their status. One of the most admired photographs was a life-size portrait of my mother, Dhun, in her wedding sari, taken in 1926. He had colored the image and mounted it on a gilt designed frame. Two other life size pictures mounted on wood cut by our carpenter were of me as a three-year-old sitting on a small chair. An added attraction was my mother’s touch, a dress I was wearing cut and stuck on the photo. Another life size picture was of my five-month-old sister, Khurshed, lying down with her feeding bottle to a corner of her mouth and her eyes looking at all and sundry. My father was patient with children. His studio was stuffed with toys.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dad’s photographs were black and white and taken up to 11.45 a.m. and again at 4 p.m. Every customer could choose between two proofs. The choice was developed into a retouched, finished (and often color) photo. Retouching and finishing, with his flair for darkroom work, often earned gratitude from clients when they saw how my dad transformed the pictures.
His enlargements were always in demand; so were group photographs. The unique part was that every face (however many there may be) were retouched and then finished, in the negative and positive. When I was working with him, an Anglo Indian gentleman came with his bride for a photograph.  He was so fair, almost white, and wore a dark suit. His bride was dark complexioned and wore a white bridal outfit. With his special touch of shading, he made copies that lessened the contrast.
After Independence (in fact during the freedom movement) all English photo goods were off the market and slowly he discontinued his work as he was not one to compromise.
My father was 19 when his dad died in Bombay. His mother and my mother’s mother had been sisters. My maternal grandpa, M. B. Mistry who ran a well-known studio lived in Allahabad
When my grandfather started training my father to run an electric photo studio, he was surprised and delighted to see how wonderful and natural was Jamshed’s touch. In a short time he realized that dad’s natural touch was way beyond the training he had himself got in England at a polytechnic college. After my mum and dad were married, my grandfather opened his studio in Nainital.
Dad’s death in 1972 at the age of 73 was deeply mourned by all, especially those who had known his kind touch and the disadvantaged whom he generously assisted. On a card in a pigeon hole in his office desk he preserved the words of the British poet Alexander Pope: "Honor and shame from no condition rise. Act well your part: there all honor lies.”
• • •
My elder son, Navroze, who is in the advertising line and runs his own agency Creatigies has inherited this gift. He is an excellent photographer, especially of children and their moods. In 1999 he had a solo photo exhibition which was inaugurated by the high commissioner of Cyprus to India, Ria Yiordamis.