In the Company of Strangers: The Photographic Journey of Zahed Hassan
In the heart of a small coastal town called Kakinada, a boy grew up with books and a restless imagination. Zahed Hassan didn’t know it then, but all those pages he turned – filled with stories, people, and places – were quietly shaping how he would one day see the world through a lens.
He didn’t pick up a camera to chase perfection. He picked it up to understand people. It started near the sea, with fishermen silhouetted against a rising sun. The ocean was his first muse – fluid, honest, ever-changing. But soon, it was the streets that began calling to him. The subtle intensity of a stranger’s glance. A hand pouring tea. A shared joke between friends. These moments, often missed in the rush of daily life, became the heartbeat of his work.
“We’re all living stories,” Zahed says. “And I just try to tell the ones we forget to notice.”
He didn’t pick up a camera to chase perfection. He picked it up to understand people. It started near the sea, with fishermen silhouetted against a rising sun. The ocean was his first muse – fluid, honest, ever-changing. But soon, it was the streets that began calling to him. The subtle intensity of a stranger’s glance. A hand pouring tea. A shared joke between friends. These moments, often missed in the rush of daily life, became the heartbeat of his work.
“We’re all living stories,” Zahed says. “And I just try to tell the ones we forget to notice.”
“Street by Street, Face by Face”
There is nothing staged in Zahed’s photography. He doesn’t shoot from a distance. He sits. He speaks. He listens.
“I speak to the people I click. I show them their photo, I understand them a bit. I want them to be who they are—not actors in front of my camera.”
That closeness – the kind you can’t fake – is what defines his work. Every image carries the warmth of conversation. The kind where you lose track of time, where you don’t need to speak the same language to understand each other. His subjects are companions in a moment that would have otherwise slipped by.
“I speak to the people I click. I show them their photo, I understand them a bit. I want them to be who they are—not actors in front of my camera.”
That closeness – the kind you can’t fake – is what defines his work. Every image carries the warmth of conversation. The kind where you lose track of time, where you don’t need to speak the same language to understand each other. His subjects are companions in a moment that would have otherwise slipped by.
“Human, Always”
Zahed calls it humanized photography. And that’s exactly what it is.
The joy of a shared meal. The worry in someone’s eyes. The dignity of hard work. He doesn’t chase the dramatic; he seeks what’s real.
“I love emotions,” he says. “Love, joy, fear… we all feel it. I try to show that. To remind us of what connects us.”
There’s a kind of empathy that runs through his images. An intimacy that invites you not just to look, but to feel.
The joy of a shared meal. The worry in someone’s eyes. The dignity of hard work. He doesn’t chase the dramatic; he seeks what’s real.
“I love emotions,” he says. “Love, joy, fear… we all feel it. I try to show that. To remind us of what connects us.”
There’s a kind of empathy that runs through his images. An intimacy that invites you not just to look, but to feel.
“More Than a Journey”
Four years ago, Zahed started this journey—one camera, no roadmap. Now based in Hyderabad, he’s traveled far from the ocean that started it all. But every frame he clicks still carries something of that place: a respect for rhythm, stillness, and truth.
Photography, he says, changed him. It made him more open. More curious. More connected to people and cultures he once knew nothing about.
“These stories, these faces… they’ve taught me more than any classroom ever could.”
And that’s the rare power of his work—it simply reflects. And in that reflection, we see pieces of ourselves too.
Photography, he says, changed him. It made him more open. More curious. More connected to people and cultures he once knew nothing about.
“These stories, these faces… they’ve taught me more than any classroom ever could.”
And that’s the rare power of his work—it simply reflects. And in that reflection, we see pieces of ourselves too.
“The Rare Storyteller”
Zahed Hassan photographs for the memory. For the emotion. For the moment you lock eyes with someone you don’t know and still feel like you do.
Through his lens, the everyday becomes sacred. And the people we overlook become unforgettable.
He’s not just capturing the world as it is. He’s quietly reminding us of who we are.
And for that, he is, without question, one of the Rare Storytellers.
Through his lens, the everyday becomes sacred. And the people we overlook become unforgettable.
He’s not just capturing the world as it is. He’s quietly reminding us of who we are.
And for that, he is, without question, one of the Rare Storytellers.
The pictures and perspectives expressed above are those of the author(s) alone and do not represent the views of Rare Storyteller or its team.
to the world.