The Grand TATYA

Raghunath Khanolkar, fondly called "Tatya", was a keen amateur photographer. He began with a vintage box camera, moved on to a Roliflex twin-lens, and then to a Pentax SLR camera. From among thousands of negatives found in three briefcases belonging to his friends, family, and famous personalites, a selection of Tatya's photographs are featured here

- Sunil Padwal

IT was unbearably hot and humid when I stepped off the State Transport bus in Kolhapur at the peak of summer. I had just graduated from college and was looking for a job in Mumbai. Since I didn’t know the way, I opted for an auto-rickshaw. This was my first time visiting Tanuja’s Kolhapur house, who later became my life partner. I could understand her parents’ apprehension in receiving me. I was sweating profusely after climbing up four storeys, and I had hardly slept on the bus; my first impression must have been a forgettable one. I introduced myself. Of course, I faltered and, on that cue, in walked a balding older man with a long white beard. He was dressed in a white kurta and pyjamas and had a pleasant smile and an unforgettable demeanour.

He wasn’t strongly built or tall, but he was a charismatic person, an enigma, an institution, a source of wisdom, and a witty, warm and delightful personality. He addressed the elephant in the room with such ease that I opened up immediately to him. That’s the start of the bond between us. He was Tanuja’s grandfather, Raghunath Shivram Khanolkar, fondly called ‘‘Tatya’’ by everyone.