THE PULSE OF THE STREET
Moments vanish, yet Suvam Saha holds them still — the pulse of India’s streets captured in fragments of life that will never repeat.
August 24, 2025
INTERVIEW
PHOTOGRAPHY Suvam Saha
INTERVIEW Melanie Meggs
Suvam Saha’s path to photography began unexpectedly. An electronics engineer with an MBA in finance and marketing, Suvam spent years working in multinational companies before establishing his own garments materials business. Art, however, had been present from the beginning. As a hyper realistic portrait artist, he had trained himself to see detail with precision — the fall of light on skin, the shifting tones of shadow, the subtle textures of a surface. When Suvam picked up a basic DSLR in 2017 to photograph products for his business, those same instincts shaped how he looked through the viewfinder. Soon, the streets of Howrah and Kolkata became his extended workspace, their energy and unpredictability igniting a lasting commitment to street photography.
The photographs are not staged. They are anchored in real encounters that emerge in the flow of daily life. Suvam’s photographs move between quiet observation and dynamic activity: riverbank rituals, railway stations in thick fog, children playing in open fields, moments of performance and celebration. Across these settings, his focus remains on preserving what will not happen again in the same way.
The influences he cites — Alex Webb’s layered compositions, Elliott Erwitt’s timing, Martin Parr’s documentary irony — all point to a practice concerned with both structure and spontaneity. Suvam often works with bold color and complex framing, but always in service of the scene. His process is less about arranging reality than about recognizing when reality arranges itself.
Recognition has come from both national and international platforms: finalists in street photography festivals, awards from Urban Photo Award, Fujifilm Moment Award, Paris Street Photo Award, and features in Eyeshot Magazine, Asian Photography Magazine, and Vogue Italia. Yet for Suvam, the value lies in the act itself. Photography, he says, is “oxygen” — a way to reset his mind, reconnect with the world, and find calm in the midst of pressure.
Now exploring long-form series and documentary work, Suvam is turning his attention to sustained narratives that explore the social, political, and cultural conditions of the place. His approach remains consistent: to work with patience, to move with curiosity, and to see the street not as a backdrop, but as an active subject in the stories he tells.
“I want to focus on stories that reveal the undercurrents shaping our times. How economic shifts affect families, how climate change is altering livelihoods, how identity and tradition evolve in an interconnected world. I’m especially drawn to the intersections where personal narratives meet larger political realities. Culturally, I want to explore both the fragility and the reinvention of heritage, from street festivals to fading crafts. My goal is to create work that not only documents but also sparks dialogue, helping people see the shared humanity behind statistics and headlines.”
IN CONVERSATION WITH
SUVAM SAHA
TPL: You describe yourself as “first an artist, then a photographer.” How does that identity shape the way you approach the street compared to someone who came to photography first? How do you think the act of drawing prepared your eye for the kind of detail and patience street photography demands?
SUVAM: Drawing sharpens our eye to build an image rather than just find one, and it gives us the patience to wait until all the visual elements click into place — which is exactly what street photography, at its best, demands.
As a hyper realistic sketcher, I have to observe each and every detail of a picture-like skin, pore, hair, wrinkles of a subject. Sometimes it will take 20-24hours or more than that to complete a sketch. So, it is a process by which a habit has been developed to observe every detail of circumstances when I'm going to click a shot. And talking about a composition, it's automatically generated in my brain no matter how many subjects there are.
TPL: Running a full-time business while maintaining a committed photography practice is no small feat. How do you structure your life, so both thrive?
SUVAM: Balancing the two isn’t about splitting my life into compartments — it’s about letting them flow into each other. The business side gives structure, a steady rhythm to my days. Photography brings breath, curiosity, and a sense of wonder that keeps me from getting lost in spreadsheets and schedules.
I carve out time for photography the way you might water a plant — regularly, intentionally, even if it’s just a small sip. Some days it’s a dawn walk with my camera; other days it’s noticing light falling across my desk in the middle of work. Over time, I’ve found that my photography feeds my business with a fresh perspective, and my business gives my photography the stability to grow. It’s less a balancing act and more a conversation between two parts of myself.
TPL: You’ve said photography is “oxygen” for you. Can you describe a time when picking up the camera completely changed the way you felt or saw a situation?
SUVAM: There was a week when everything in the business felt like it was falling apart — an order delayed, a client unhappy. One afternoon, instead of trying to “push through,” I grabbed my camera and just walked. I ended up in a small alley where the late afternoon light was pouring through dust in the air, turning everything gold.
I started shooting — near a bank of rivers, a stray cat watching me from a window. Ten minutes in, my breathing slowed, my shoulders dropped. I wasn’t thinking about deadlines anymore, just light, texture, and the quiet rhythm of the street.
When I got home and looked at the images, the problems were still there, but they didn’t feel so big. Photography had shifted my perspective — from being stuck in the noise to noticing the beauty still humming in the background. That day reminded me why I call it oxygen.
TPL: You often speak about preserving “unstaged events.” How do you train yourself to anticipate a moment without interfering with its authenticity? How do you decide when to approach and engage, and when to remain completely invisible?
SUVAM: For me, it starts with patience and trust — patience to wait for a scene to unfold naturally, and trust that something worth capturing will happen if I’m attentive enough. I train myself by spending a lot of time simply observing, without even raising the camera. That way, I start to understand rhythms: how people move, how light shifts, how small gestures build into a moment.
When I sense something is about to happen, I decide whether to engage or stay invisible based on the nature of the scene. If my presence might alter it, I keep my distance and shoot discreetly. If engagement will add to the connection — say, in a portrait or a shared smile — I step forward. The key is respect. I’m not there to “take” an image, I’m there to witness it. The best photographs, for me, are the ones where the subject forgets I’m even there, and the moment breathes on its own.
TPL: In a city like Kolkata, where life moves quickly, how do you decide whether to wait for a scene to develop or move on in search of the next?
SUVAM: It’s a constant negotiation between patience and restlessness. If the light, background, and energy of a place feel promising, I’ll stay — even if nothing’s happening yet — because I’ve learned the street can change in seconds. Sometimes the best photographs come from waiting for the scene to find me.
But Kolkata has a rhythm that pulls you forward. If I sense the scene has settled — the light shifting away, the flow of people thinning, or the mood flattening — I move on without regret. The city is generous; there’s always another corner, another intersection of chance and beauty.
Over time, I develop a gut sense for it, almost like listening to music. You know when the beat is building toward something, and when it’s fading out.
I want my photographs to feel like a single frame from a film you’re desperate to see the rest of.
TPL: Your influences span from Alex Webb’s layered color work to Martin Parr’s social documentary and Elliott Erwitt’s humour. Which of these photographers’ lessons have stayed with you most when you are actually out photographing?
SUVAM: I can't say about particular shots but one thing I have noticed is that if i observe their photos their one thing is common and that is handling many subjects in a single frame carefully so that no one is overlapping with each other. The subject is balanced with the background as well as light and shadows also. Raghu Rai and Raghuveer Singh sir are my most favourite photographers who have shown how to capture the raw essence of Indian culture.
TPL: Your upbringing involved books, painting, and films from many languages. How do those influences find their way into your photographs today? Can you share an example of a movie or series that has directly shaped how you approached a street scene?
SUVAM: Growing up surrounded by books, painting, and multilingual films plants three distinct seeds in a street photographer’s mind:
Reading trains us to think in arcs and subplots. On the street, this means we see not just a single moment but how a gesture or glance might suggest a larger, unseen story. Paintings sharpen our sense of palette, texture, and composition. You notice when the street offers you a “Vermeer” moment with side light and a warm interior glow, or a “Hopper” mood in the isolation of a lone figure at a café. Films teach timing, how a beat of stillness before an action can make it land harder. They also show how framing and movement guided emotion. Recently I have been so much influenced by the series called Picky Blinder which tells the story of Tomas Shelby. Each and every frame of the series is so inspiring to take your camera and go outside to click shots.
TPL: Have you ever captured a moment that you later chose not to publish? What guided that decision?
SUVAM: Some of my captured pictures I have not shared on any platform but particularly there is no reason behind that. Maybe I will share them in a different series which tells a strong story.
TPL: You’ve said photography made you more comfortable talking to strangers. Can you recall a conversation sparked by your camera that stayed with you?
SUVAM: One afternoon in Burrabazar, I was photographing the way afternoon light fell through the narrow lanes, cutting across stacks of fabric. An elderly shopkeeper noticed me hovering outside and called out, “If you only take the light, you will miss the stories.”
He invited me in for tea, and what began as a polite chat turned into a two-hour conversation about how his father had started the shop before Partition, how trade routes shifted, and how the neighborhood’s rhythms changed over decades.
I barely took a photograph in that time — just one frame of his hand resting on a ledger — but that image means more to me than most because it carries his voice, his history, and the reminder that the camera is not just a way to collect pictures, but a reason to be invited into someone’s world.
TPL: You’ve shifted toward long-form documentary work. How does working on a series over time change the way you see individual frames?
SUVAM: When we move into long-form documentary work, an individual frame stops being the story and becomes part of the story.
In a single-shot mindset, we’re looking for an image that contains everything — the mood, the narrative, the visual punch — all in one. In a series, our relationship with each frame changes: Each image adds a facet: one gives context, another emotion, another tension. I start shooting with gaps in mind, knowing the series will be stronger when those gaps are filled. The power often emerges in the sequence, how one image sets up the next, how repetition or contrast builds meaning over time.
Instead of chasing the peak moment every time, we can sit with the subject or location, letting relationships and patterns emerge. For me, working on a series makes me more forgiving and more curious. I can allow a frame to breathe, knowing it has companions that will help it speak.
TPL: When someone looks at your work years from now, what do you hope they will understand about the time and place you lived in?
SUVAM: I hope they’ll understand that the time I lived in was messy, layered, and alive with contradictions — that Kolkata, and the world beyond it, was constantly shifting between the old and the new, the personal and the collective.
I want them to feel the texture of our streets: the way light caught on peeling posters, the quiet negotiations between strangers in crowded spaces, the humor that bloomed even in hardship.
If my photographs survive, I want them to be read as a kind of emotional archaeology. Like proof that even in an age of speed and distraction, there were still people who stopped long enough to notice.
Speaking with Suvam Saha, it becomes clear that photography is not a diversion from his life as an entrepreneur, but an essential part of it. Photography is a space where his artistic instincts meet the unpredictability of the world outside his door. Each frame is a conversation between patience and impulse, structure and chance. And whether the story unfolds in a single image or across a series, Suvam's purpose remains the same: to hold onto the unrepeatable, if only for a moment longer.
