The Context
1897 was the second year of the third plague pandemic in British India. This devastating pandemic lasted for thirty years and claimed the lives of an estimated 12 million people. India’s port cities, starting with Bombay (Mumbai) and nearby Poona (Pune) and later spreading to Karrachee (Karachi) and Calcutta (Kolkata), were particularly hard hit.
That year, a French-born Pasteurian physician from the Pasteur Institute arrived in Karachi from Bombay. To begin his fieldwork in order to inoculate the newly manufactured Pasteur antiserum from live Yersinia pestis cultures.
At the same time, a Karachi-based studio photographer of Parsi origin left his comfort zone. To walk the streets of pandemic-stricken Karachi He documented the devastating pandemic with his camera. In the process, he left behind a priceless trove of images of plague-ravaged Karachi.
And when the photographer was establishing his studio just about nine years ago, in 1888, there was another gentleman in the far west, in New York, unveiled the world’s first camera preloaded with 100 exposure rolls of film– the Kodak N1 (September 4, 1888). And began democratizing photography by making it “as convenient as the pencil”.
During the height of the Third Plague Pandemic in India, it’s likely that a French physician, the founder of Kodak, and an Indian photographer, all crossed paths with one another. Simply put, this is a story about serendipity and probability. The probability factor that may have resulted in the photographic documentation of epidemics, a staple of contemporary photojournalism focusing on global health.
The fundamental objectives for writing this photo-research article are twofold. First, to highlight a little-known Indian photographer from the late 1800s. An Indian photographer who, like his white peers, made important advances to the idea of global health photojournalism as we know it today (especially after COVID-19 pandemic), was not given the credit he deserved. And secondly, to draw attention to an underappreciated and silent period in the development of photography. As a result of the fact that wars—in particular, the American Civil War (1861–1865) and World War II (1939–1945)—have long been credited with promoting the development of contemporary photojournalism. Between these two terrible wars that “slaughtered mankind,” there is a gap in photography history during which a handful of photographers, employing the same photojournalistic approaches, documented a battle of “protecting mankind” from a lethal bacteria.
A Tale of ‘Probability’
The first case of bubonic plague was discovered in Bombay, at Cutch-Mandvi, in September 1896. The disease caused havoc over the following year. In March 1897, the Pasteur Institute sent Dr. Paul-Louis Simond to Bombay with their newly made antiserum. A youthful, zealous, and energetic Frenchman in his forties arrived in the heart of the largest British colony. He took over for the illustrious Dr. Alexandre Yersin (the man credited with discovering the plague) and assisted with fieldwork by inoculating plague victims with antiserum made from live cultures of the plague bacteria, Yersinia pestis (named after Dr. Yersin). By that time, Dr. Waldemar Haffkine had finished testing his newly developed bubonic plague vaccine on himself at the Grant Medical College of Bombay.
In Bombay, Dr. Simond was formulating an experimental protocol apart from his fieldwork. He then moved to Karachi from Bombay, the second-most affected port city. On June 2, 1898, in Karachi, he conducted the experimental protocol that he had formulated in Bombay. The demonstration changed all previous theories and hypotheses of plague transmission. He demonstrated that intermediates in the transmission of bubonic plague from rats to humans are the oriental rat fleas (Xenopsylla cheopis) that dwell on infected rats. This demonstration introduced disinsectization (the treatment of an environment with an insecticide or other substance to rid it of insect pests) in addition to deratization (the extermination of rats)in plague prophylaxis. Although Simond reported that, in the absence of fleas, a contaminated rat could not transmit the disease to an otherwise healthy rat, the evidence was found unconvincing by the medical community. It was thus unsurprising that general acceptance of plague transmission by fleas had to await Gauthier and Raybaud’s validation of Simond’s work. That Simond provided incomplete evidence to a small, incestuous, and jealous community at a time when there was more confidence in ‘miasmas’ than in vectors of disease may well explain why his contribution was so poorly received.
However, he continued his fieldwork to inoculate the antiserum to the plague victims in Karachi, too. That was the job assigned to him. As it is shown in the above photograph, on June 6, 1898. And that’s the only available photograph of Dr. Simond during his entire tenure in plague-affected India before he left for Saigon to join the Pasteur Institute in 1898.
Furthermore, it was obvious that a photographer was present because a photograph of Dr. Simond had been captured. A photographer in the mould of Captain C. Moss of the Bombay-based Gloster Regiment. The majority of the photographs in the “Plague Visitation Bombay (1896-97)” collection, which was issued by the Bombay Plague Committee, were taken by Captatin Moss, a photography enthusiast. The album provided as a visual documentation of the work done by the Bombay Plague Committee. The images show members of the committee and the medical staff as well as the city of Bombay, various hospital interiors, scenes of sick people receiving care, recuperating and dying patients, funeral pyres, and segregation camps etc.
But for Karachi, the story was slightly different. Similar to Bombay, there was a Plague Committee formed in Karachi. This committee also published a photo album, like Bombay. But this time possibly by commissioning a professional studio photographer from Karachi, unlike the British amateur Captain Moss. This time they assigned an Indian photographer of Parsee origin. Possibly by R. Jalbhoy, as credited by Wellcome Collection in their entire repository of plague pandemic of Karachi. And the University of Cambridge, having the same images from the repository of Wellcome Collection, mentioned ‘unknown author’.
Though Kodak began democratizing photography through Kodak No1, in the late 1800 camera was an affluent affair for the common mass in India. The term photography was merely 60 years old (by Hércules Florence), and the process of fixing a photograph in the paper was about 70 years old. Here in India, during that period, very few enthusiasts took photography professionally, mostly as the studio photographers. Those who could afford to buy a camera were either the English people or the local affluent businessmen. Like the Parsis, from the land of Persia, landed in Gujarat anytime between 716-936 CE. They settled in Sanjan, adopted the local language, attires and cultures (Qissa-i Sanjan). They became the trendsetter in any kind of businesses in India – from jewellery to steel production. And also in photography. The most celebrated name till date is Homai Vyarawalla, the first Indian woman photojournalist.
But almost thirty years before she started her career in photojournalism at the onset of WWII, another Persi gentleman at Karachi laid the foundation. From the available resources, it is evident that there was a studio photographer named R. Jalbhoy who had his own studio in Karachi. And he was quite well established. He was being commissioned to take portraits and family photographs of the Britishers and affluent Indian families like the royal family of Talpur dynasty of Sindh. Alister Macmillan in his book “Seaports of India and Ceylon” (1928) mentioned about R. Jalbhoy and wrote (p. 368) –
The enormous development in photography finds expression in the great variety of things which have been invented for the simplicity as well as the perfection of that art in all its most charming and useful phrases. The materials pertaining thereto are found in great variety and completeness in the establishment of Mr R. Jalbhoy, who specialises in their supply with knowledge based on the long and practical experience of everything associated therewith. He is agent for the celebrated goods of Kodaks, Ltd., Houghton Butcher (Eastern), Ltd., Winsor and Newton, Ltd., and Illingworth and Co., Ltd., London. In addition to his merchandising activities, Mr. R. Jalbhoy is also a photographic artist of noteworthy ability’, as is demonstrated by’ the many’ excellent examples of his skill to be seen in Ins premises, from miniatures up to life-size port mils. He has taken photographs of the King and Queen at the time of their visit to India in 1905 as Prince and Princess of Wales, also of the present Prince of Wales in 1922, and of various Viceroys, Governors, Commanders-in-Chief of India and other prominent persons. The business was established about forty years ago by Mr. R. Jalbhoy, and since his retirement in 1920, it has been carried on by’ his son, Mr. S. R. Jalbhoy’, who has been assisting his father for the last twenty-five years. The telegraphic address is ” Jalbhoyco,” Karachi, and the code used is the ABC 5th edition.
Alister Macmillan in “Seaports of India and Ceylon” (1928)
R. Jalbhoy was the only photographer from Karachi who was mentioned in the book. But his assignment during the pandemic is missing in this long note by Macmillan’s on R. Jalbhoy. From the archive of Paper Jewels, it is also evident that apart from the studio shots, he had an avid interest to document the city of Karachi pictorially.
Willliam Watson in his book “A Guide to Karachi” (1891) mentioned that Jalbhoy’s studio established in Karachi 1888 and the studio was listed in the Camp in 1891. The British troops, after capturing Karachi in 1839, established a camp to the east of the captured city, which became the precursor to the modern Karachi Cantonment. Here the camp might mean the Karachi Cantonment. It is obvious from the above statement of Watson that Jalbhoy was already enlisted as a photographer during that period with the British camp. And within a very short period, he earned his reputation. He was possibly the most known photographer of Karachi during that period, as per the praising words by Macmillan.
Now, there are two probability factors. Either R. Jalbhoy must have had a good reputation and high quality of work that convinced the Karachi Plague Committee to hire him. Otherwise, it would be any other Britisher, like Captain Moss, who probably did the job for the committee during the pandemic. Or there was no enthusiastic photographer like Captain Moss in the Cantonment, and hence Jalbhoy was hired. And it is evident from Macmillan’s comment, the photo envelop of Jalbhoy and also from the albumen prints in the repository of Wellcome Collection & University of Cambridge, that he might have done the assignment with Eastman Kodak’s Brownie / No1 camera to capture the pandemic, for greater mobility.
The repository of the University of Cambridge (Apollo) shows 2,281 photographs from all over the world under “Visual Representations of the Third Plague Pandemic Photographic Database“. It is so far the largest photographic database on the Third Plague Pandemic. With the subject “Karachi”, the repository shows 73 photographs from Karachi. All 73 photographs are published by Wellcome Collection and credited as ‘unknown author’. The ‘host item’ of these 73 photos is mentioned as “Karachi Plague Committee Album”. On the other hand, with the keyword “Karachi plague”, Wellcome Collection shows 53 results. Among these 53 photographs, the credit line for 49 photographs read, “Photograph probably by Jalbhoy, R.”. The only photograph that carries a confirmed credit line (as contributor) is the group photograph of four members of the Karachi Plague Committee. The original photograph itself carries the credit line. “R. Jhalbhoy” on the right and “Photographer, Karachi” on the left side. From the surrounding ambience, it is obvious that the photograph was captured outside the studio, may be inside the camp. The Karachi Plague Committee album was probably got its final shape in the hand of R. Jalbhoy, in his studio, like he did for others. Because the photo envelop of his studio mentioned, “albums of all sizes are available”.
And probably being the most reputed ‘agent’ of photographic equipment, he was the automatic choice to do the album. With all probability, the Karachi album was a simple photo album as mentioned in the envelop. And not so decorative like the Bombay one, as there is neither any leather-bound cover nor any forwarding writeup by any officer found in the book. The possible reason might be that, although a plague affected port city like Bombay, Karachi with population density around 105,199 (1891) got less attention in comparison to Bombay with much higher population density (821,764 in 1891 census). Hence, the documentation was probably not so important, politically, to prove the efficiencies to the authorities.
There are a couple of group shots of the four committee members in the Cambridge repository, among many other group photos. Both photographs featured the same four committee members, but in different poses. a set of posed photos that strongly resemble colonial egoism. And, as is customary, these two images were most likely the introductory photos. One of these two photographs had no credit line, while the other had a handwritten credit line. Jalbhoy, being an accomplished photographer with high standards and a good reputation, probably did not want to put a credit line under each one. Or, at least, that was the usual procedure for creating the photo album. Jalbhoy clearly was unaware of the historical significance of his images. He completed the work like he had done for others. However, as an Indian photographer in the late 1800s, he left his professional comfort zone—his studio—and did the same job as his British (amateur) counterpart in Bombay.
Through political cracks, the Third Plague Pandemic breached all man-made boundaries. The pandemic was caused by Yersinia pestis and originated in China’s Yunan province. It travelled to Hong Kong and subsequently to Bombay, an Indian port city. It left a trail of death and destruction akin to previous epidemics, endemics, and pandemics. However, the documentation of the third plague pandemic differed from previous ones. Past the realm of the artist’s imagination. It was the first time a global health disaster was widely documented in real time with a camera. For the first time in public health history, photographs were captured by photographers. It also left behind a massive photographic collection. Not as a sequential visual story but as a collective visual database of disparate locations and information, all of which conflict within any single locus of infection. Similar to images of Karachi and Bombay, through the eyes of R. Jalbhoy and Captain C. Moss, respectively. But with the same goal in mind: to document the pandemic. What they did could be described as “epidemic photography”—the forerunner to today’s Global Health Photojournalism.
In the history of documentary photography and photojournalism, war has always received separate attention. However, neither Health Science nor Public Health are included. This complete photographic production by photographers such as R. Jalbhoy and Capt. Moss helped to develop a new field of view in public health using the photojournalistic technique. The photographic archive of the plague epidemic in India is a global topic that covers a wide range of issues, including anti-plague measures, clinical signs, quarantine facilities, depictions of plague hospitals, and so on.
Finally, there are few ambiguities linking the plague, Dr. Simond, R. Jalbhoy, and Eastman Kodak. There is confusion on Dr. Simond’s voyage date from Bombay to Karachi: the repository states 1897, but the Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine says 1898. Whether Jhalbhoy took the photos himself or someone else did. Did the photographer actually use a Kodak camera? When was the album released?
The possibilities of connecting these dots after 126 years are quite remote. However, one certain conclusion can be drawn. Approximately a century ago, this country laid the groundwork for multiple scientific experiments by Drs. Haffkine, Yersin, and Simond on a single pandemic that saved mankind from the Plague. And their works had real witnesses, which belong to a different scientific field known as photography. Among the witnesses were a forgotten Indian photojournalist, along with his British equivalents. What these photographers accomplished appears to be dwarfish in the eyes of the medical scientists. But a century later, when no one is alive, only these photographs illuminate how we see, depict, and imagine pandemics and their social, economic, and political consequences in the age of Global Health. That is the power of photography. Because a photograph is a narrow slice of space and time in which “all cognitive activity proceeds via the recovery of the past through objects in the present.”
The world experienced yet another deadly pandemic in 2020. Having spent the last few years chronicling the pandemic, I am writing this article with one hope in mind. Let visual data, in addition to numerical data and statistics, become a part of global health studies like visual sociology and visual anthropology. Along with frontline health workers, thousands of photojournalists risked their lives to capture COVID-19. As a result of our species’ successful collaborative battle against the virus, it is now appropriate to preserve all the pandemic photographs in a single repository. Also, it should be used to collect visual data for public health research. In addition, every photograph must be properly credited. After another century, if someone does photo research on COVID, they shouldn’t find another possible R. Jalbhoy in the archive.
Today is August 19 – the World Photography Day and International Humanitarian Day.