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Selvaprakash Lakshmanan,
Photographer
TEMPLE ELEPHANT CAMP
The Temple Elephant Rejuvenation Camp is a photography project documenting the lives of domesticated and wild Asian elephants. Initiated by Tamil Nadu's government after a temple incident, it provides 48 days of natural habitat, nutrition, and medical care for temple elephants, exploring their welfare, mahout relationships, and social interactions.
LIFE IN TROUBLED WATERS
A project on the effect of unscientific construction
along the coasts of India. Documents the
impact of climate change along. with chemical plants, factories and harbours
that came upon the seashore, and also other
development activity which disturbed the sand
movement and wave patterns, thus triggering
largescale erosion and deposition of sand. The
project also focuses on how erosion and drastic
environmental degradation affect the livelihood of the
fishermen living along the coast.
along the coasts of India. Documents the
impact of climate change along. with chemical plants, factories and harbours
that came upon the seashore, and also other
development activity which disturbed the sand
movement and wave patterns, thus triggering
largescale erosion and deposition of sand. The
project also focuses on how erosion and drastic
environmental degradation affect the livelihood of the
fishermen living along the coast.
JALLIKATTU
"From habitat protection and anti-cruelty laws to discourse about hunting and veganism, animals seem to get a lot of consideration in 21st-century Western culture."-Barbara Wilcox
This series of images is part of a larger body of work that aims to document the remnants of ancient traditions reflecting the complex and often contentious relationship between humans and animals. These practices are deeply rooted in the southern region of Tamil Nadu, where I originate, and, due to their controversial nature, they occupy an uneasy and ambiguous legal space.
The submission contains three distinct series of images. The first explores the intimate bond between an elephant and its mahout. The second delves into the love and mutual dependence between a hunter and his hunting dog. The final series captures the training of an indigenous breed of bull used in jallikattu — a recently banned sport in which men attempt to leap onto a running bull and hold onto its hump for as long as possible.
These images reflect the discomfort that ancient traditions experience in the context of modernity. The traditional masculinity once embodied in bull-running has found expression in other forms. The elephant, once an essential and utilitarian animal, now has few roles beyond ceremonial purposes. Meanwhile, the need for hunting as a means of survival has all but vanished. Through these photographs, I aim to preserve these human stories and identities, as they are rapidly fading into history.
This series of images is part of a larger body of work that aims to document the remnants of ancient traditions reflecting the complex and often contentious relationship between humans and animals. These practices are deeply rooted in the southern region of Tamil Nadu, where I originate, and, due to their controversial nature, they occupy an uneasy and ambiguous legal space.
The submission contains three distinct series of images. The first explores the intimate bond between an elephant and its mahout. The second delves into the love and mutual dependence between a hunter and his hunting dog. The final series captures the training of an indigenous breed of bull used in jallikattu — a recently banned sport in which men attempt to leap onto a running bull and hold onto its hump for as long as possible.
These images reflect the discomfort that ancient traditions experience in the context of modernity. The traditional masculinity once embodied in bull-running has found expression in other forms. The elephant, once an essential and utilitarian animal, now has few roles beyond ceremonial purposes. Meanwhile, the need for hunting as a means of survival has all but vanished. Through these photographs, I aim to preserve these human stories and identities, as they are rapidly fading into history.
RURAL EXODUS
Thirty-four-year-old Lalapa was forced to leave his village home due to hunger. Indian cities are now bursting with millions of Lalapas, all fleeing villages that can no longer support them. “My crops failed, my children were hungry. I had to migrate,” is a sentiment echoed by countless others facing the same fate.
Crop failure, mounting debts, drought, water scarcity, and unreliable electricity are just a few of the reasons behind this mass rural exodus. Small-time agents from urban centers exploit the desperation of these villagers, promising them jobs they have no choice but to accept. For thousands of rural migrants, the construction industry — the very symbol of India’s urbanization — becomes their destination. They arrive in cities, flocking to construction sites where they work as cheap labor. Shantytowns spring up around these sites, often dismissed as eyesores. Yet, it is here, in these overcrowded and squalid conditions, that former farmers who once fed their communities now struggle to survive.
Our cities demand electricity to fuel industries and businesses, while rural areas require power to irrigate crops. In India, major cities may face an occasional power cut of an hour, while rural areas endure 8 to 12 hours of daily load-shedding, crippling agricultural work. Studies have shown that just one hour of power cut in Mumbai could provide enough electricity to support an entire state’s agricultural needs for a full day.
Migrants from rural areas face a unique form of marginalization. Unlike urban slum dwellers, they live and work in conditions far worse than those in city slums. Their makeshift shelters — flimsy tents and shanties — lack basic amenities like clean drinking water, sanitation, and electricity. They are invisible to the system, with no identification papers, medical insurance, or even recognition as urban dwellers in population censuses. Despite the dangerous nature of their work, they are treated as economically insignificant.
Paid meager daily wages, these migrant workers struggle to provide for their families and are unable to send their children to school. While some government programs and NGOs have set up schools for migrant children, the transient nature of their work — moving from one construction site to another — makes consistent education nearly impossible. Not only are children deprived of an education, but many are also forced into child labor on construction sites. These children often suffer from severe malnutrition and are vulnerable to a range of contagious diseases due to poor living conditions. In some cases, women and girls take up work as domestic helpers in nearby homes.
Despite efforts from various organizations, the plight of migrant laborers remains one of the most pressing and unresolved issues in India’s development.
Crop failure, mounting debts, drought, water scarcity, and unreliable electricity are just a few of the reasons behind this mass rural exodus. Small-time agents from urban centers exploit the desperation of these villagers, promising them jobs they have no choice but to accept. For thousands of rural migrants, the construction industry — the very symbol of India’s urbanization — becomes their destination. They arrive in cities, flocking to construction sites where they work as cheap labor. Shantytowns spring up around these sites, often dismissed as eyesores. Yet, it is here, in these overcrowded and squalid conditions, that former farmers who once fed their communities now struggle to survive.
Our cities demand electricity to fuel industries and businesses, while rural areas require power to irrigate crops. In India, major cities may face an occasional power cut of an hour, while rural areas endure 8 to 12 hours of daily load-shedding, crippling agricultural work. Studies have shown that just one hour of power cut in Mumbai could provide enough electricity to support an entire state’s agricultural needs for a full day.
Migrants from rural areas face a unique form of marginalization. Unlike urban slum dwellers, they live and work in conditions far worse than those in city slums. Their makeshift shelters — flimsy tents and shanties — lack basic amenities like clean drinking water, sanitation, and electricity. They are invisible to the system, with no identification papers, medical insurance, or even recognition as urban dwellers in population censuses. Despite the dangerous nature of their work, they are treated as economically insignificant.
Paid meager daily wages, these migrant workers struggle to provide for their families and are unable to send their children to school. While some government programs and NGOs have set up schools for migrant children, the transient nature of their work — moving from one construction site to another — makes consistent education nearly impossible. Not only are children deprived of an education, but many are also forced into child labor on construction sites. These children often suffer from severe malnutrition and are vulnerable to a range of contagious diseases due to poor living conditions. In some cases, women and girls take up work as domestic helpers in nearby homes.
Despite efforts from various organizations, the plight of migrant laborers remains one of the most pressing and unresolved issues in India’s development.
VANISHING TRIBES
Vanishing Traders is a posed portrait project on disappearing traders and professionals in India.Till about a decade ago, it was the local milkman who woke me up daily ringing the bell of his cycle, pouring milk into the steel vessel or glass bottle kept overnight on the doorstep. This was a daily ritual in every Indian home. Evenings were complete only after the candy-man came by pushing his cart. Cracked plastic pots and buckets were religiously saved for the fix-it man, who stopped by every few months.
Dry fruit-sellers and small traders came regularly, ready to barter their ware for bric-a-brac.The austerity of reduce, reuse and recycle was just the way of life. But not anymore. These mobile traders, nomadic in the sense that they wandered with their trade, have nearly vanished along with some of the professions.Modernisation and availability of cheaper goods in a country with a growing wealthier middle class has made these trade redundant.I have been documenting these vanishing traders since 2011. My photography project looks at them as heroes of a bygone era, Most of the traders are example for subsistence living before the three Rs became an activist’s mantra.
Dry fruit-sellers and small traders came regularly, ready to barter their ware for bric-a-brac.The austerity of reduce, reuse and recycle was just the way of life. But not anymore. These mobile traders, nomadic in the sense that they wandered with their trade, have nearly vanished along with some of the professions.Modernisation and availability of cheaper goods in a country with a growing wealthier middle class has made these trade redundant.I have been documenting these vanishing traders since 2011. My photography project looks at them as heroes of a bygone era, Most of the traders are example for subsistence living before the three Rs became an activist’s mantra.
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