Magnum photographer Raghu Rai was cremated with a Nikon Z8 and a roll of expired Kodak film

There's a certain kind of photographer who never really retires: they just keep shooting, until they can't any more. Raghu Rai, who died yesterday aged 83, was that kind of photographer, as I noted in my obituary. And when his family laid him out at Lodhi Cremation Ground in Delhi on Sunday, April 26, they made sure everyone knew it.

Resting on his chest was a Nikon Z8, fitted with a Z 24-200mm zoom, its lens pointing skyward one last time. Beside it sat a small yellow box of expired Kodak ColorPlus 200 film, with a Best Before date of May 2017. Together, these three objects were as eloquent as any photograph Rai ever made.

The camera that tells a story

The Nikon Z8 is a telling choice. It’s not a relic or a prop, but a current professional tool: a high-end mirrorless body built for speed, durability and flexibility in the field. It can shoot up to 20 frames per second in RAW (and faster in JPEG or reduced-resolution modes), with advanced autofocus and video capabilities that reflect how far camera technology has evolved since the film era in which Rai began.

It’s certainly a long way from the manual cameras of his early career. The celebrated Magnum photographer moved to digital in the early 2000s, and the Z8 represents the modern endpoint of that transition: a camera that combines high performance with a relatively compact form factor compared to flagship DSLRs. Not lightweight in absolute terms, but streamlined enough to support a more mobile way of working.

The Nikkor Z 24-200mm f/4-6.3 VR mounted on the front reinforces that idea. It’s a versatile all-in-one zoom, covering focal lengths from wide-angle to telephoto without the need to change lenses. While not Nikon’s fastest or most specialised optic, it’s well suited to photographers who prioritise flexibility and discretion over outright speed—allowing them to respond quickly to unfolding situations without drawing attention by swapping gear.

Together, the camera and lens suggest a practical, responsive approach to photography: one that values readiness and range over excess equipment, and that reflects the realities of working in unpredictable, fast-moving environments.

The film that tells another

The Kodak ColorPlus 200 is a different kind of object entirely. It’s an entry-level colour negative film, long known for its affordability and wide availability, particularly in markets like India where it became a staple for everyday photography. With a sensitivity of ISO 200, it’s best suited to good daylight or well-lit conditions, producing relatively fine grain and a warm, slightly saturated colour palette.

For years, it was one of the most commonly used films for casual and family photography, the kind people picked up from high-street shops, kiosks and travel outlets. Even as digital took over, stocks like ColorPlus didn’t disappear entirely, and in recent years film has seen a modest resurgence among younger photographers.

The roll placed beside Rai was expired, which adds another layer of meaning but isn’t quite as clear-cut technically as it might seem. Expired film can lose sensitivity and shift in color balance over time, especially if not stored in controlled conditions, but it often remains usable. Some even seek out expired stock for the distinctive effects it can produce.

In that sense, the film doesn’t simply represent an obsolete medium. It points to an earlier way of working—one shaped by limited exposures, delayed feedback and a different relationship to risk—while also acknowledging that these materials continue to have a life, however altered, beyond their intended span.

Habits worth keeping

The image of those objects, camera and film, resting together on white cloth among marigolds and roses, is already circulating widely, and it deserves to. It captures something true about how Rai worked and thought.

He wasn't nostalgic for the past. He embraced digital without ceremony and never romanticised the darkroom. But he knew that habits formed in the age of film – patience, economy, refusal to fire endlessly – were worth keeping. He said as much last year, advising young photographers not to chase Instagram followers by shooting endlessly, but to attach meaning to every frame.

A camera for the future, a roll of film for everything that came before. It's not a bad way to be remembered.

A memorial for Raghu Rai will be held on May 2 at the Chinmaya Mission Centre on Lodhi Road, New Delhi, at 6pm.