“Bindu, (dead) body.” Every day, Bindu V.V. gets calls from the local police to photograph people who have died in accidents or under suspicious circumstances. Armed with her Canon SLR, she races to the scene on her motorcycle, even in the dead of night, to capture images that will help the police prepare inquest reports.
Bindu, who lives in Kodungallur in Kerala’s Thrissur district, has photographed more than 3,000 bodies. Her journey as an inquest photographer began in 2002, when she was working as a receptionist at a photo studio. She had no interest in photography. But, when a few lighting assistants began learning the basics while the studio owner was away, Bindu joined them. What began as curiosity soon became a passion. Within six months, she had mastered the fundamentals.
One day, when no photographer was available for an inquest, Bindu was asked to step in. The case involved a three-year-old girl who had been thrown into a well by her mother, who was living with mental illness.
Bindu, a mother of two, was uncomfortable photographing a dead child, and expressed her unwillingness to go on such assignments in the future. She was happy doing wedding shoots. But, a few weeks later, Bindu was again tasked with an inquest. She went, but forgot to use the camera flash in her nervousness. Quickly realising her mistake, she did a re-shoot.
In the early days, she faced many such challenges, says Bindu. Once, she forgot to load film into her camera. Another time, she missed taking key angles of the deceased as she was tense. But she soon overcame these fears. “The more I dealt with dead bodies, the more comfortable I became,” says the 46-year-old. “People ask why I stick with inquest photography. I tell them it’s my karma. It feels like performing a person’s last rites, so it’s special to me.”
Bindu was recently featured in photographer and artist K.R. Sunil’s book, Velichappadum Pokkattadikkarum, which chronicles the lives of ordinary individuals who remain unsung and undocumented. He writes, “Over the past 23 years, Bindu has documented death, its profound numbness, and life’s harsh realities. This remarkable achievement demands great patience and dedication.”
Road to independence
In 2005, Bindu took a break from work after getting married and moving to Bengaluru. When she returned to Kodungallur with her husband in 2008, she found it challenging to get photo assignments initially. “We found it difficult to place her. But Bindu didn’t let that discourage her. When an opportunity came up, we hired her, and she did well,” says S. Xavier, a sub-inspector at the Kodungallur Police Station. “Bindu knows what needs to be done and how to do it. She handles all her assignments with great attention to detail.”
Bindu continued taking inquest assignments after separating from her husband in 2014, to provide for her two daughters, one of whom lives with autism. She also had to care for her estranged husband’s parents.
That’s when a police officer came to her aid. Using his salary certificate, she secured a ₹2 lakh bank loan to buy a Canon SLR. It was the first time she owned a camera — and it filled her with a deep sense of hope. Today, Bindu handles inquest photography for seven police stations, mostly in Thrissur district. She receives calls from at least two police stations every day, often at night.
Santhosh Kumar, a senior inquest photographer who helped Bindu early in her career, says, “Many photographers refuse to take pictures of corpses, but Bindu is not troubled by it. She is fully committed to her work.”
Not for the faint-hearted
Though Bindu is used to seeing corpses, some experiences remain etched in her memory. In 2020, she walked into a house in Palloot near Kodungallur, where four family members had killed themselves. The suicides made her wonder — what drove them to it? “I’ve seen how fragile life is, and many of the deceased have left me with unanswered questions, but I prefer to keep those thoughts to myself,” she says.
Another time, “A 65-year-old man had been reported missing and, despite a lookout notice, there were no leads. Eventually, members of a Kudumbashree unit — a poverty eradication and women’s empowerment initiative in Kerala — discovered his bones beneath a tamarind tree in Mathilakom near Kodungallur. It was the first time I photographed a human skeleton,” she says.
Life lessons
Bindu’s path hasn’t been without hurdles. “Since taking on this role, I know what needs to be done,” she says, but some young police officers remain dismissive of her work, she adds. Bindu remains unfazed, however. “After work, I rush home with a memory stick full of images of deceased people. As soon as I step inside to be with my children, I forget the world outside,” she says. Bindu’s elder daughter plans to pursue a B.Sc in nursing, while her younger daughter, 16, attends a special school. “I have trained my elder daughter to care for her when I am not around. I avoid travelling outside Thrissur because my children need my support,” she says.
For her, photography is not about glamour but a profound commitment, says Bindu, who earns between ₹1,500 and ₹2,000 for each assignment. “The presence of dead bodies no longer frightens me; instead, they teach me about the fragility and contradictions of life.”
When Bindu, who had to discontinue her studies after Class XII due to the lack of financial support, was invited as a guest speaker to a college a year ago, a student told her she wanted to become an inquest photographer. Bindu asked her if she meant it. “If you take it seriously, you’ll have a bright future. Otherwise, please don’t bother,” she told her.
The writer is a Chennai-based journalist.
Published – October 24, 2025 08:08 pm IST
