Our cities have their lifelines. Delhi has its Metro. Mumbai its local trains. And Kolkata its yellow taxis; the iconic yellow Ambassador taxis have long been a familiar sight on its streets. But with production of the cars having stopped in 2014, they are gradually disappearing from the city. Photographer, writer, publisher and CEO of HarperCollins India Ananth Padmanabhan's exhibition ‘No Refusal’ has stepped in, as it were, to document them while they are still around.
Opening today at the India Habitat Centre, Delhi, the exhibition is a photographic documentation over several years. It captures the taxis on the streets, in motion, and in garages where ageing cars are taken to be scrapped. The title of the exhibition comes from a state government directive in 2014 that taxi drivers could not refuse passengers. The phrase also appears on the taxis themselves, making it a familiar part of Kolkata’s streetscape.
For the photographer, the phrase also captures the anxieties associated with public transport. “The very idea that the city steps in to say that passengers cannot be stranded, and therefore it's a command that nobody will refuse a passenger wherever they go,” he says.
An object of beauty
Having photographed New York’s yellow taxis, Padmanabhan was fascinated by the Ambassador’s presence in Kolkata. Through his photographs, he wanted to draw attention to the beauty of an everyday object. “One of those things I want people to notice is that when you interact with a particular city or anything, you have to look beyond,” he says. “The taxis are one of the most beautiful objects on Indian roads,” he says, pointing to its striking yellow body. “It's very odd to find a colour like this, and this striking a colour particularly against the backdrop.”
The photographs present the bright yellow taxis against the worn-down Art Deco buildings and busy streets of Kolkata. Padmanabhan says the contrast was deliberate, but the cars could not be separated from the city they belonged to. “You can't take that car out of Calcutta. They are one and the same. If I put it anywhere else, it'll look like a prop,” he says, adding that he wanted to show that even in a city often described through its decay, there was beauty to be found.
Stories through the lens
During his visits, Padmanabhan would take a map of Kolkata, drop himself at different points and walk with his camera. “You never know what you're going to bump into,” he says. Sometimes he knows what he wants to capture; at other times, the photograph emerges from an unexpected encounter.
Working in publishing and being an avid reader, Padmanabhan approaches images with a sense of storytelling. “Because your head is so full of stories, every image is a story. And with every image, you want to say something,” he says.
As the yellow taxis have become increasingly rare, photographing them has grown more challenging, requiring patience and careful timing. “There was a time, 15-20 years ago, when the road was full of yellow taxis,” he says. “And now you have to just wait for that moment.”
The exhibition also features photographs of taxi drivers and garages where ageing cars are taken to be scrapped. Padmanabhan recalls photographing a taxi in a garage when a man casually sat on its boot and lit a cigarette. The moment found its way into the exhibition. “How could I not take that picture?” he says.
For the drivers, the disappearance of the Ambassador is not merely a matter of losing a familiar vehicle. These cars have been their workplaces and, in many cases, the means through which they have supported their families. “It is the one that has literally fed the family,” Padmanabhan says. “It would have been part of the house.”
He recalls drivers being forced to give up their cars and move to newer vehicles. Some have suggested that the remaining Ambassadors could be retained as vintage taxis, allowing the city to preserve a distinctive part of its transport history.
A city that feels like home
The show is also a reminder of Padmanabhan’s relationship with Kolkata, which began nearly three decades ago in 1998, when he arrived at Howrah railway station on a trip for the Calcutta Book Fair. Having grown up in Chennai, he arrived with preconceived ideas of the city, shaped by books and films. “I come out in this sea of humanity and this beautiful line-up of cars. So I immediately fell in love,” he says.
Over the years, the city became a place he felt at home in. He describes Kolkata as “an older woman you've fallen in love with. You don't want them to change. You already have fallen in love with a certain beauty.”
Padmanabhan sees the exhibition as an attempt to record history rather than simply look back with nostalgia. “I just want to show them how much it has impacted me, what a beautiful object it is. It's a great way to remember the history of a particular car, but also the history of a particular city.”
While other cities have transformed into distinctly different urban landscapes, Padmanabhan believes Kolkata has retained much of its character. The disappearance of the yellow taxi, however, has made him reconsider that continuity. “A Calcutta without yellow cabs is a lot less Calcutta than it used to be,” he says. For Padmanabhan, the taxis are part of the city's visual memory, much like its buildings and parks. Their gradual disappearance raises questions about what cities choose to preserve and what they allow to fade.
On view at the Visual Arts Gallery, India Habitat Centre, Lodhi Estate from today till November 10, 10am to 8pm