India's 1st Woman Photojournalist!

Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru lights up a cigarette, receives his sister Vijayalakshmi Pandit at the airport, sends off a pigeon and then smiles in front of a signboard that says, "Photography strictly prohibited." At the ground floor of the National Gallery of Modern Art, India's first prime minister evolves from a charismatic political leader into a man who, according to the woman in a wheelchair on the first floor, "would have made a brilliant actor".

"Panditji was always conscious of the fact that he was being photographed yet he was so natural," says 97-year-old Homai Vyarawalla, India's first woman press photographer.

Over 200 images from Vyarawalla's career of 35 years (1930s to 1970s) will be on display at the NGMA from Friday, introducing people to the human side of India and poignant moments in Indian nationalism (Dr Rajendra Prasad's picture inaugurating the Rashtrapati Bhavan telephone line shows him holding the receiver in front of his face, his moustache sheltering a jubilant smile). Presented in collaboration with the Alkazi Foundation for the Arts, the exhibition-Homai Vyarawalla: A Retrospective-is being curated by Vyarawalla's biographer, Sabeena Gadihoke. The exhibits have been divided into politics, daily life, Delhi (Vyarawalla's residence for 27 years) and her own photos with friends and family.

"I didn't know these images I was taking were that important till after 50 years since I started work, when people started asking for them," says Vyarawalla, who started professional photography in 1938. "My first images were of a picnic of a women's club of Mumbai. I was paid one rupee for each photo," recalls Vyarawalla, who was introduced to photography by her husband, Maneckshaw. On the first floor, you'll find two portraits that made it to the cover of The Bombay Chronicle in 1941. Both carry Maneckshaw's name though they were clicked by Homai. The publishers only knew him then. Of course, a career marked by images of the partition meeting, prayer meetings, Delhi's quiet streets and the euphoria of independence that she covered on a bicycle with a series of heavy cameras, ensured glory to her own name. Today, Vyarawalla lives alone in relative anonymity in Vadodara. She has not taken a single picture since 1970. "I don't even know what digital means," she says. And that, we assure her, is a good thing.