Hark1karan - Portrait of a Village in Rural Punjab

Hark1karan is a South London photographer capturing the lives of Punjabi’s and Sikh’s across London. Celebrating the release of his debut photo-book PIND, we talk with Hark1karan about the mental and physical journeys we take to document the daily rituals inherited from our ancestral cultures.

PIND: Portrait of a Village in Rural Punjab documents life in Hark1karan’s ancestral village of Bir Kalan in Punjab, India. Through a collection of documentary photographs that span over 3 dedicated trips, Hark1karan’s photo-book captures the everyday nuances of village life– showing how people live, work, socialize, learn, and go about their day-to-day. These photographs act as historical documents, giving the people of his village both a voice and face, as they capture a liminal moment in time of the changing landscape and culture of rural Punjab. Part photo-book, part memoir, PIND is dedicated to Hark1karan’s ancestors and fellow Punjabi community; now available for purchase on his website.

- Alexa Fahlman

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How are you doing amidst all this global turmoil?

On a whole I am grateful that I’ve not been heavily impacted by the global pandemic. I still have a job, a roof over my head, food and my family. It’s hard to get a clear grasp on the situation as a whole and it is evolving, so we are finding out new information daily. It’s a matter of taking it day-by-day and trusting your own judgement, especially in the age of information overload. That being said I personally remain positive and see this as a chance for changes to take place. For new ideas and rituals to blossom. Who knows how we will look back on this time. In the strangest way possible I feel I wouldn’t have realised my debut book working full time in an office as I have gained back precious time which has allowed me to balance work life much easier.

In as much detail as you can, to help our readers visualize your surroundings, can you describe where you are right now in the world?

I’ll break it down so you can easily digest my chaotic thoughts. Physically I am in South London, England. Mentally, I am global in thought. I feel optimistic. To be honest I always feel optimistic and this is probably down to the fact that I interact with so many different types of people in my life. Both in the digital and physical world. This creates less fear and more awareness. That feeling excites me and energises my thoughts as I see what needs to be communicated. Self-funding, self-publishing, self-marketing and self-distributing my debut book has been an act of self-empowerment and belief. To go and create something that has never been seen in such a way has been a big responsibility. To go out and tell a story true to what I see has proven to me that it is possible to share your vision with others using photography. That has been a beautiful learning experience and a sign to continue my work. My work as a community photographer allows me to connect people not only through the image but also through the practice of photography. For me, photography is an extension of seva, a Sikh practice of selfless service. Through it, I am able to fulfil my moral duty as a human being.

You mentioned you grew up in England, what was it like growing up there? Especially being from a Punjabi background? 

At home I grew up hearing and speaking Punjabi. This allowed me to think and see life from a different perspective and express myself in different ways. Being born in England you learn to switch between the two cultures and identities as a way to navigate any given space. We grew up around extended families which was very important especially as there weren’t many other Punjabis in South London. Having that family structure was exactly as it would have been in Punjab. We ate Punjabi food most days in the same way people do in the pind. I think the first song I ever remember hearing was Punjabi. Being from the Indian side of Punjab meant we were also Sikhs which made us more visible. We’d frequent the gurdwara (Sikh place of worship) where we would be with other Punjabis and Sikhs. As you can see, there are many practices and rituals that we lived out that are similar to life in Punjab, hence why there was such a big connection despite living thousands of miles away. 

It’s about time we turn to your debut book, PIND! What initially compelled you to create a photo-book?

I began documenting my community of Punjabis and Sikhs in the UK after realising that we did not have any substantial documentation of our community from within. I also wanted to create a wider and inclusive documentation away from internalised stereotypes. As I was out in the field, I realised that I could take it one step further and document our culture’s reference point, pind. Pind means village in Punjabi. For over 30 years, I’ve been lucky enough to visit my pind since I was a baby. Through these journeys I’ve realised pind is a massive part of our story and one that has never been told or seen through a photo-book. I saw this as a multi-layered opportunity to cover a number of points. I wanted to document pind as I’ve never come across anything in photographic form. I wanted to focus on Punjab as its own place and culture, rather than as something seen as Indian or South Asian. My primary audience would be our community both diasporic and those living in Punjab. To capture the book as an insider and not a voyeuristic outsider with a western gaze. To capture a moment in history as modern technology and outside influences have accelerated change. To connect those that had left, back to their roots. To give the forgotten people of pind a face and a voice. Why in photo-book form? I’ve always been fascinated by different forms of documentary photography and how it’s presented in photo-book form. I wanted to tell a nuanced yet everyday story of pind life. For me, a comprehensive photo-book was the best option. The story had to be intimate and emotional. 

Is there anything that photography has revealed to you about yourself?

Over the years I’ve learnt about the power of photography to tell stories and challenge narratives. Photography is a powerful form to empower and bring people together. For me it’s not a job, it’s a tool to communicate what I see. A way to express what I cannot express in other forms.

Can you paint us a picture of some of your earliest memories of your mother's pind growing up?

My earliest memories of pind are all great and vivid. When you go somewhere so different from where you permanently live as a child, the opposite of that always stays with you. I remember not having any restrictions and being allowed to play with other children and hang out with elders. Everyone would offer me cha (tea) or milk when I went into their homes. I remember sneaking off to eat food I wasn’t supposed to. There were always animals about. As a child that was fascinating. Trying to get close to the water buffalo and playing with the dogs. It was just pure freedom. Going down to the farm on the back of a Royal Enfield Bullet. There is a lot of love in pind and you really feel it. I learnt very early on about sharing as those who didn’t have much were willing to offer me something for nothing in return.

I noticed that there's a sense of community in both how you've described your photographs and taken them– in what ways would u say community is important to Punjabi culture? How did this inform the way you photographed the village and portraits?

A lot of my work involves my environments and cultures. This is my life and I am part of these places and practices. When you belong, you become part of an “us” - a wider group of people which you share some commonality with. My common-unity comes from lived experiences which allow me to belong to a certain group of people. My lived experience connected me to the people of Punjab, seeing them as an extension of myself and not as something foreign. Seeing everyone as equal meant I was able to tell an inclusive and intimate story. I want the viewer and the subjects to equally benefit from this story otherwise the project becomes an ‘us’ and ‘them’ story. I made the effort to see as many different people as possible. To earn their trust and capture an untold story. Asides from culture, Sikhi is of great importance here as it teaches our community of oneness. From childhood we embody this and I would say that it is a part of my photographic ethos. That love is what ties the whole book together and keeps it so grounded.

Your portraits certainly capture your subjects, but also speak to something more universal. With that said, what gap were you trying to bridge between your experience and your audience?

All human stories are rooted in similarities and differences in cultural norms. Therefore I knew people would relate to each image differently. There is an overarching story of childhood, family, relationships and daily rituals. I would say that is a universal aspect of the story. The second layer is for the diaspora to relate to - here the images become a second language in the book. An example of this would be the shot of the women kneading the dough for the roti, connecting the viewer to a cultural practice they may also live out. The third language is of nuance - the symbols and signs of life in pind including people’s jobs, religions and social statuses. There is always an underlying political tone to my work and so the fourth language is of inclusion - the reveal of ignored or untold stories. These are the defined gaps I had in my mind that I wanted to bridge.

In what ways have you noticed the changing landscape of Punjab?

From a distance the flat agricultural landscape looks the same as it’s always been. The changes that have occurred can be noticed closer up. The clothes that the younger generation want to wear and their style is fusing with an influence from the west and social media. Mobile phones have given access to a new world meaning that people’s wants are changing. Those that can afford a good education aspire to migrate to other countries for a perceived better life. The divide between cities and rural villages is significant. It’s as if people in the rural parts have been left behind and forgotten. It’s difficult to establish if social mobility has improved over the last twenty to thirty years. Advancements in technology have meant that old techniques for making quilts and clothes have changed with easy access to new machinery. There is access to gas cylinders and power generators making it easier to cook and access electricity. Mass consumption and access to commodities has made survival a little bit easier. The photographs in the book capture these small changes throughout. For me, it was the last chance to capture the few people still doing things the old way.

This is more of an ethical question: would you say that there is a visible difference in the way a photographer captures their own community vs. how a photographer from outside that same community depicts it? Historically speaking, popularized photographs of asian, brown, and black communities have often been shot by white photographers. When shooting do you feel like you're consciously having to subvert the white gaze?

I’d lump everyone into holding the western gaze regardless of race as that view comes from a mind-set. People can also be outsiders to their own ancestor’s cultures as much as those who have no connection whatsoever. Class would be another factor to consider. This goes back to belonging, community and how much of your culture you practice. My experiences over time have allowed me to be aware of what I am capturing and why I am capturing it. If my connection to pind was weak, I personally would not feel comfortable or confident in telling a story that I am not connected to. The photographer needs to ask themselves who are these images for and what ideas they will put out into the world. Am I capable of telling this story? Do I show respect to the people in the photos? This is the responsibility of the photographer. They must not let the ego takeover. The “photography” is not everything. I speak to my primary audience and I know I am taking photos of signs and symbols that will be alien to those outside the culture and I think this is ok. Here, the photographs become a challenge for the outsider and this goes back to my point of layers in which we see things.

My process involves giving back - returning after each trip, I handed out prints of all the photos I shot. The process is about give and take in equal amounts. This is why I also opted to have my introduction translated into Punjabi, broadening my pool of accessibility. I have 60 copies of the book I am taking back to pind once Covid calms down. This, for me, is the most exciting part. To share the story with the people who made it.

Continuing on from the last question, What are some things photographers should think about when trying to capture an honest or authentic portrait of someone?

For me the person being captured has to be comfortable. If it helps, explain as much as possible to them about why you’re taking their photo. Earn their trust, be open and communicate clearly. There is no harm in asking for portraits if you feel shy to approach someone. Always take your time composing and setting up the shot, as you may never see them again. If the environment allows, try to incorporate it into the photograph for extra depth. Try different angles and distance if you’re presenting the images as a series. This can help build a story about a person. Inevitably the photo will always show your relationship with your subject in that moment.

To end things off, do you have a favourite shot from your book?

My favourite shot is the one of 6 children with white dastars (turbans) waiting to go to school. I love the feeling of this image. The layers of faces beaming back at you. It was 7:30am in the morning and they looked pristine waiting for the school bus amongst all the dust. I feel like it reminded me of my childhood and I could relate to them. I love that this is a normal scene in pind. To look the way they do is not something that would be considered odd. As like many of the shots in the book I feel as though they’re looking at us and not the other way round. This photo reminds me to always capture feeling and emotion in my work. I have this up in my house.