One of the most disturbing photographs taken by Saiful Huq Omi is of a baby. Kept in a net, like a fish, which dangles from a hook high above a bed. On the bed, cloth bundles are pushed to its edges, a belt snakes through the centre and, unnoticed at first glance, a revolver rests on a pillow. The baby has turned over on his stomach, his face pressed against the net; he is bawling. “This is a Rohingya child, born in Malaysia, and an illegal immigrant like his parents. When the parents go to work, the children are kept in these swing cradles for safety,” says Omi.
His image of dawn appears to be a refreshing contrast. Behind the clouds and over the ragged earth, the sun rises with the promise of a new day. A man stands silhouetted on the horizon, pointing far away. Omi’s images reveal their meanings in instalments and a viewer staring at this beautiful landscape for a few moments finds it turning darker. The eye is drawn to upturned and neglected boats in the foreground and the thick black clouds that swoop over the frame. Nature seems to have clawed through the soil. The photograph now evokes loneliness and fear. The man at the centre is a Rohingya refugee from a camp in Cox’s Bazar in Bangladesh; he is pointing toward his home on the other side of the river Naf, which divides Burma and Bangladesh. During the shoot, he told Omi: “Just across the river Naf is my home. It is two miles but, for me, a refugee without a passport, it is like two million miles. My mother is there. How do you feel when you know your mother is 30 minutes away from where you are standing, and you will never be able to see her again?” (Courtesy of The Indian Express)
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