When the world slammed its doors shut in 2020, Rohit Chawla stepped outside—into the relentless monsoon of Goa, where the beaches played host to a cast of emaciated, forgotten souls. His latest exhibition, Raindogs, is not just a series of photographs; it’s the pandemic from the point of view of the stranded and abandoned strays. It’s biting, poetic, and yes—goes deeper than the cute dog reels that occupies our IG feeds.
Part of the first wave of Covid city exodus, Chawla didn’t arrive in Goa to find his next project. The pandemic had cancelled his grand retrospective, leaving him untethered and restless. Coaxing a closed beachfront hotel on Ashwem beach to give him a room (sans kitchen, staff, or amenities), he found himself alone, save for the stray dogs that shadowed his daily 20-kilometre walks. These weren’t pets—they were survivors, abandoned by a society too busy stockpiling essentials to notice. “I fed them whenever I could,” Chawla admits. But the bond that formed wasn’t transactional. The dogs offered a sort of temporary companionship in their silent solidarity. “I’d actually try to avert the gaze of the dogs because if I looked at them long enough, they would follow me for 6 to 7 kilometres. It was heartbreaking because they were looking for anybody who looked them in the eyes,” he reflects.
What started off as an attempt to keep his creative energy alive, turned into what is now a photography exhibition on display at what may be the most spectacular exhibition space in his adopted home, the Aguad Goa, an erstwhile jail. An image which features a striking image of a man and his dog gazing at the sea, became the seed for Chawla’s journey into photographing stray dogs. For days, he observed the man—a migrant unable to leave Goa—standing bare-chested on the beach, his loyal dog by his side, staring at the horizon as morning boats arrived. One day, everything aligned perfectly: the boat, the dog, the bird, and the clouds, creating a frame that resonated deeply with the sense of longing and survival during the pandemic.

The images, shot mostly on iPhone and bathed in Goa’s sombre monsoon palette, juxtapose the rawness of stray survival with the majesty of nature. In another frame, a dog stands at the edge of a beach, silhouetted against a cross—a quiet confession to an indifferent universe. Yet another captures a black dog and a fisherman clad in black. Chawla muses, “For me, he's like a conductor conducting the monsoon symphony and the dog is his lead violinist.”
The beach shot of five dogs, seemingly glued together by some canine cosmic force, is so surreal it almost seems AI-generated. It's a testament to how far we've come from "look, a lamppost" photography. Now, everyone's a shutterbug, but Chawla, who has been photographing for four decades now, reminds us that lazy documentation is out. Today, if you're not conjuring a visual symphony, you're just another image lost on our cluttered feeds.