Manipulating Cultural Idioms

Marcella C. Sirhandi

Art Journal, Vol. 58, No. 3. (Autumn, 1999), pp. 40-47.

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 Since India's independence from Great Britain in 1947, Indian artists have
worked through a nexus of conflicts of identity: East versus West, tradition
versus modernism, nationalism versus internationalism. Until the I ~ ~ O artists
S ,
responding to pre-Independence nationalism sought to express "Indianness."
Influenced by traditional miniature painting and folk art, their paintings
featured Indian subject matter, typically
~ ~C. Sirhandi
~ derived
~ from~Hindu mythology
l land Mughd ~
history. These works were often painted in
overlaid washes of transparent watercolor
Manipulating Cultural Idioms on paper, rather than in oil on canvas, a
medium associated with the materialism of
Western art. After Independence, many artists sought to be "international" and
experimented with abstraction. By contrast, artists of the current generation,
such as Manjit Bawa, T. Vaikunthan, Jaya Ganguly, Shipra Bhattacharya, and
Chandrirna Bhattacharyya, demonstrate the endurance of traditional Indian cul-
ture as the wellspring for artistic enterprise, as well as the newfound freedom
to challenge tradition.

Manjit Bawa
In a 1996 interview at his studio in the Imperial Hotel in New Delhi, Manjit
Bawa (b. 1941)seemed dismayed when I asked him to explain why he por-
I. Manjit Bawa. Ranja, trayed Krishna playing his flute for a group of dogs (fig. I ) : "It is not
1992. Oil on canvas. 60 x
69 (1 52.4 x 175.3). Private
Krishna," he said. "It is Ranja." But when I looked incredulous, he added,
collection. "Even if it is Krishna, it doesn't matter-Ranja is also a flute player, and Ranja
was a divine lover, more than Krishna,
because Ranja gave everything for love.
Krishna never gave everything for love.
Krishna was in love with Radha, and he
left Mathura and went to Jorka to his king-
dom. So if it were Krishna in my painting,
he should have a [peacock] feather on
his head."' While the blue skin associated
with Vishnu and his avatars-especially
the cowherding god Krishna-makes for
a confident identification, Bawa's motives
and consequent reasoning for calling this
figure Ranja were thought-provoking.
Bawa was deeply shaken by Hindu
fanatics' ruthless 1992 destruction of the
Babri Masjid, a mosque of the Babur per-
iod built in 1528 in the ancient city of
Ayodhya. A majority of Hindus believe
that the Rama Janambhoomi Temple,
I marking the birthspot of Rama, Seventh
Incarnation of God Vishnu, was leveled and that the Babri Masjid was built
on its rubble. While this mosque had been an object of contention and phys-
ical attack for centuries, the widespread riots and violence unleashed by its
final destruction were unmatched since the partition of India in 1947. Bawa
 regarded this event as symbolic of an uncompromising fundamentalist mental-
ity that is threatening the very fiber of Indian society, its political system,
and even personal freedom. "How could they do this? How can you break a
mosque? It is a disrespect to the other people living in this country who have
been here for centuries. So many things that came from Iran are a part of my
culturestitched clothes came from there,
the way of preparing food in this region, the
gardens-and you can't break my culture.
The fundamentalists are breaking my culture.
So I do paintings like Ranja with dogs."
Manjit paused. "The dog is anti-Hindu and
anti-Muslim both. Showing the dog is anti-
religion. When critics ask how I could make
this painting insulting Krishna, I say it's not
Krishna, it's Ranja."'
It is ironic that Bawa identified Ranja, the
tragic victim of racial/tribal prejudices in a
Punjabi version of Romeo and Juliet, as the pro-
tagonist in this painting. Nevertheless, like
1 Krishna, Ranja was a cowherd with a flute

' :. who serenaded buffalo, as well as his beloved

Heer. Heer was forced to marry her cousin
when her romance with Ranja was discovered;
. when she rebelled, her family poisoned her,
and Ranja died of heartbreak on her grave.
1 Though Ranja is a regional folk hero, the story
1 is well known all over northern India. It has
been popularized by Punjabi Sufi poets, such
I1 as Waris Shah, Bule Shah, and Skeikh Ahmed
-whose verses Bawa quoted intermittently
I during our interview. A couplet from one that
served as the inspiration for this painting
.cads, "Nobody would listen to my flute;
I'll play for the dogs."3 While conservative
Hindus who interpret the figure as Krishna
2. Manjit Bawa. Circus might be offended by the imagery, Punjabies who accept the flute player as
Fantasy, 1992. Oil on
canvas. 69 x 60 ( 1 75.3 x
Ranja would be equally distressed.
152.4). Private collection. Several years ago, Bawa took on the ambitious project of creating a card-
board circus for the Imperial Hotel in Delhi; when I visited, some of the
props were leaning against the walls in his studio. This project inspired Circus
Fantasy (fig. 2 ) , a curious painting that manifests Bawa's fascination with duality
and incompatible juxtapositions. Circus themes conjoin images from Hindu
mythology and those from the Christian tradition. Lions, tigers, elephants,
horses, and monkeys are prominent in both realms, while the human dimen-
sion is represented by circus performers and by dancing or demon-slaying
Hindu gods and goddesses. It is as if Bawa has transformed half the Hindu
I. Interview with Manjit Bawa, New Delhi, 1996.
2. Ibid. pantheon into a circus. His bifurcated forms offer multiple views of the actors,
3. Ibid. while details of Hindu myths are freely interpreted. At top center, as described

4 1 art journal
 in the Bhagavata Purana, a purple Krishna balances Mt. Govardhan on his little fin-
ger. It is not convention, however, that the blue god should stand on the hump
of a brahma cow. The same cow is about to lick-or kiss-the acrobatic figure
floating sideways in front of it. An almost fierce lioness lunges at the oblivious
Krishna, who is posed with his flute in the bottom left corner. Bawa enjoys
humor and likes to incorporate whimsy and irony into his paintings.
At bottom center, a lifeless body draped over hairy brown legs brings to
mind Michelangelo's Pietd, but the body is that of the demon Hiranyakasipu,
killed by Vishnu in his Narasimha (half-man, half-lion)
avatar. That the image parallels the posture of Christ
on Mary's lap could not be accidental. The Christ-like
head, which doubles as the head of the body beneath,
tilts back to witness a sword-brandishing figure threaten-
ing a bird. Though missing the usual ten heads and arms,
the attacker is meant to signify Ravana, the demon king
of Sri Lanka, who kidnapped Sita, the beautiful wife of
Rama, another of Vishnu's avatars. In the Ramayana, the
story of Sita's capture and subsequent rescue, Ravana does
battle with a giant bird (Jatayu) that tries in vain to save
Sita. Bawa insists that the myths he chooses to paint are
of no particular importance but should be easily recogniz-
able. His real interest is in the manipulation of color and
form. He does not admit to metaphor, but we cannot
ignore his subversive tricks.

T. Vaikunthan
With insinuation and wit, Bawa lampoons Hindu mythol-
ogy; similarly, T. Vaikunthan (b. 1942) capitalizes on vil-
lage culture. A city dweller from Hyderabad, the capital of
the state of Andhra Pradesh, Vaikunthan paints small, col-
orful acrylics that are a reminder of the rural roots that
the educated elite could find embarrassing. The Holy Man
(fig. 3) comments on the corrupt religious poseurs who
prey on villagers, particularly women. In this work, a vil-
lage woman turns her head from the white-clad holy man
to look at a parrot, which symbolizes connivery and deceit
in Indian art, indicating that she recognizes the insincerity
3.T. Vaikunthan. The Holy of his intent. The pose also implies sexual transaction. As the holy man pushes
Man, 1993.Acrylic on
closer, the offended woman lifts her sari behind her neck as a shield. His awk-
paper. 20 x I 1 (50.8 x
27.9). Private collection. ward hand gesture adds to the impression of his unethical intentions.
Vaikunthan's themes are based on first-hand observation and experience.
The shaved head and sectarian mark on the holy man's forehead are attributes
of the priest; the white mark contrasts with his dark skin color. The caste
system, based as much on skin color as on profession, fosters the belief that
darker pigmentation belongs to lower castes and villagers. While Vaikunthan's
images imply a certain haughtiness, the near-poverty conditions in which he
lived when I met him in 1993 and his exceedingly humble nature refute this
assumption.

4 2 FALL 1999
 Vaikunthan's foray into village life was the result of a fortuitous opportu-
nity. In the 196os, when he was a student at Hyderabad's JNTU College of
Fine Arts, he recalled, "We copied prints of the old masters and drew from
casts, did life study and composition, all from that [nineteenth-century] tradi-
tion."+ He then became a dedicated abstract painter, until he matriculated at
M.S. University Faculty of Fine Arts in Baroda. "There we had ongoing philo-
sophical discussions: Where is our art? Are we just following the West? What
should we do? How should we do it?" Such questions led Vaikunthan to
abandon abstract for figurative painting.
The real moment of truth, however, came after he left Baroda, when
a friend asked him to assist with a film about the village. "I needed to
research life in the village, so I read a lot and spent three or four months
in Burugupally in the district of Karimnagar. As part of my research, I did
drawings in pencil and wash. Unfortunately, the film was aborted, but the
experience became my new idea for art."S Village women in particular interest
Vaikunthan because of their colorful dress and their gestures, but especially
because of their social influence. "Village women live in a very different
world; their faces are distorted from the hard work they do; there are few
things that they have or need."6 The women he paints are large and husky.
Involved in daily chores or braiding their long black hair, they are frank and
self-absorbed, but decidedly unrefined.

Jaya Ganguly
Vaikunthan's nostalgic, though somewhat sardonic, depiction of Andra village
women is entirely different from the images by Jaya Ganguly (b. 1958) of
Calcutta prostitutes, whom she regards as heroines in the battle against female
repression. Her frenetic, energy-filled paintings are a response to her sense of
entrapment by the constraints of tradition-bound Bengali society and the pres-
sures from her own conservative family. When she decided to enroll at the
Indian College of Arts in Calcutta, Ganguly's father refused to give her finan-
cial support. Though her mother and younger sister offered moral support,
Ganguly credits her success to her fellow students, who shared art supplies
and encouraged her in those difficult years. Her family expected her to marry,
have children, and lead a traditional Bengali life; putting her career as an artist
first was not acceptable. Yet, Ganguly was determined to fulfill her artistic
ambitions before marriage.
The Indian College of Arts is located in a neighborhood with a mixed
population of laborers, shopkeepers, and professionals. The prostitutes in par-
ticular fascinated Ganguly. They represented freedom from the strict dictates
imposed on women in conservative Bengali society; at the same time, she
empathized with their lives of drudgery and degradation. Returning home
from class one evening on a city bus, Ganguly shared her seat with a prosti-
tute whom the other passengers shunned. As the passengers moved away in
horror from the haggard woman holding a cigarette defiantly between her
lips, Ganguly became angered by their behavior. In response to this incident,
she produced a series of paintings entitled Sex and Sorrow. In one painting from
4. lnterv~ewwith T. Vaikunthan, Hyderabad, 1993.
5. Ibid. this series, she portrays the prostitute with a red belly spreading her legs in a
6. Ibid. provocative gesture. Emanating energy, she is grotesque, yet, with a yellow
 flower pinned in her jet black hair, desirous of appreciation. Another painting
from this series, Devadasi (fig. 4), depicts a temple dancer who is also a prosti-
tute. Before the British colonized India, girls assigned to temples would dedi-
cate themselves to the gods and dance as an expression of devotion. As Hindu
supremacy was challenged and the temples lost
their patronage, prostitution in the ranks dilut-
ed the dwadasi's sanctity. Eventually, the term
became synonymous with temple prostitute.
Ganguly's temple dancer-prostitute carries can-
dles for puja, part of the ceremony in worship
of a god. Wearing jewelry and revealing her
breasts, she emulates the stone musicians and
dancers that grace medieval Hindu temples.
Now a part of history, devadasis would have
been a part of the temple community in the
area where Ganguly was born and raised. Her
4. Jaya Ganguly. family home is located on Kundu Lane in the
Devadasi, 1984. Ink
and watercolor on immediate area of the Kalighat temple, one
paper. 30 x 20 of India's most famous pilgrimage sites and
(76.2 x 50.8).
Private collection.

5. Jaya Ganguly. Cat

and Pmwn, 1986.
Watercolor on
G Calcutta's most vital religious center. Dedicated
to Kali, the black goddess-a symbol of destruc-
tion and conversely of curing disease-the
temple was a center for a host of religious
paper. 30 x 20
accessory hawkers, as well as prostitutes. In
(76.2 x 50.8).
Private collection. addition to the kum kum or sacred powder and
fruit and flower sellers, the Kalighat folk artists
r frequented the area. Although they left just
before Ganguly was born, their artistic legacy

li attracted national and international attention.

Today her old neighborhood is home to aspir-
ing young painters and writers, and Kalighat
I folk art continues to play a vital role in shaping
form and content in her work.
Paintings from the Sex and Sorrow series
repeat the bold, curving outlines and simplified
forms of Kalighat folk art. Ganguly's version
of the cat with a prawn in its mouth, a poke
at religious hypocrisy (fig. s), is a personal
rendition of a popular theme among Kalighat
painters who paint social satire and genre sub-
jects, as well as gods and goddesses. According
'b.
1 to the British art historian William G. Archer,
"this subject was supposedly satirical of Vaish-
navite preachers who, sworn to practise the strictest vegetarianism, were
prone to eat fish on the sly."7 Ganguly's cat, on the other hand, is disturb-
ingly frightening. This snarling animal that protects its prey is a metaphor for
7,William G,Archer, andModern (New
defending personal integrity and maintaining control over one's life. It is, in
York: Macmillan, 1 959). 1 12. effect, a self-portrait.
 Shipra Bhattacharya
Ganguly's prostitutes, temple dancer, and ferocious wild-eyed cat are a far cry
from the sensuous and romantic paintings of Shipra Bhattacharya (b. 1955).
Whereas Ganguly resents the constraints of middle-class Bengali society,
Bhattacharya finds inspiration
in the lives and dreams of
Calcutta's masses, "who hardly
care for the artificial decorum
of the social ~ o r l d . Desire
"~ V
(1997) (fig. 6) depicts a ritual
ubiquitous in India, in which
female friends and relatives
sequester themselves to talk
about affairs of the heart. The
woman in a blue sari on the bed
is the focus of the discussion.
The flower pressed delicately
6. Shipra Bhattacharya.
Desire V, 1997. Oil on
between her thumb and forefin-
canvas. 66%x 63 (168.9 x ger indicates that she pines
160). Private collection.
for her beloved. While young
7. Shipra Bhattacharya women in Mumbai (Bombay)
Desire 11, 1997. Oil on and New Delhi wear jeans and
canvas. 70 x 96 ( 1 77.8 x
243.81. Private collection. find husbands for themselves at
college or the office, most mar-
riages in conservative Calcutta
are still arranged. Therefore, if
the woman has come to know
someone outside her family and
fallen in love, she has a prob-
lem. Her two confidantes are
decidedly perplexed; one sits on
the floor offering advice or con-
solation, while the other shows
her dismay by putting a finger
to her lips. Bhattacharya's theme
and presentation are derived
from a popular convention in
traditional Indian miniatures,
in which the pining beloved
languishes on a bed surrounded
by compassionate friends and
maidservants. Though the furni-
ture is modern and the saris are
contemporary, the vertical per-
spective of checkered floor and tilted bed are characteristic of seventeenth- and
eighteenth-century painting, in which men and women alike hold flowers or
8. Shipra Bhattacharya, "Text on My Paintings," small beautiful objects as a sign of good breeding and sensitivity, and, when
1994. surprised or deep in thought, put a finger to the lips.

45 art journal
 Desire I1 (fig. 7) is a dream-like vision of primal Indian romance. In a won-
drous garden-more than a reference to the Garden of Eden-a handsome,
smooth-bodied youth offers a flower to his sweetheart. He is brown, and she
is creamy white. The ideal Indian pair, they are derived from ancient fertility
figures-male yaksha and female yakshi-that inhabit all aspects of nature. Repre-
sented in sculpture since approximately 200 B.C.E., the yakshi has always been
conceived as a voluptuous creature with large globular breasts, small waist, and
exaggerated hips and thighs. Bhattacharya's female fatale, entwined by the vine
that signifies her tie to nature, has tubular arms that echo the essence of the
8. Chandrima creeper. Her partner, emerging from the center of the flower, is literally the
Bhattacharyya. Trilogy of spirit of the plant-a common definition for yaksha/yakshi.
Solitude, 1990. Ink on
paper.ZI%x 14%(54x
Desire V and Desire I1 mark a recent change in Bhattacharya's work. A few
36.2). Private collection. years ago, she focused on the colorful and diverse activity of the bazaar. As she
has written, "This particularly disorganized and scattered life
of the market people [attracted] me very much."9 Tempera
was her chosen medium; used in combination with parallel
strokes of a charcoal pencil, her paintings were earthy and
idiosyncratic. The widespread use of tempera, especially among
Bengali artists, honors Indian tradition by, rejecting
w , " more
popular imported Western media. More recently, however,
Bhattacharya has shifted to oil on canvas, giving her genre
scenes a cleaner, brighter appearance. This new work indicates
that Bhattacharya's personal and cultural identity is not
enslaved to medium or technique.

Chandrima Bhattacharyya
Chandrima Bhattacharyya (b. 1963) is known for her whim-
sical and lively anecdotal narratives of contemporary life at
Santiniketan that, no doubt, would have pleased its founder,
the venerable Rabindranath Tagore. A poet, song writer, and
novelist-Tagore made his mark as a painter thirty years after
he had won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1914.His revolu-
tionary arts college at Santiniketan, located in a lush landscape
two hours by train northeast of Calcutta, ranks with M.S.
University in Baroda as the country's best. From the 1920s
through the 1940s, Nandalal Bose, one of India's most revered
artists, headed the painting department at Santiniketan. Now
k the college draws the best young artists from all over India to
% study with renowned painters such as Jogen Choudhury and
K. G. Subramanyan. Bhattacharyya earned two degrees from
the c o l l e g e a B.A. in ceramic design in 1987 and an M.A. in the history of art
in 1989. Her finely crafted, densely packed motifs derive from recent and past
experiences, first as a student and then as a wife and mother.
Evoking the mystique of this legendary campus community does not pre-
clude the incorporation of disturbing elements of social reality-indiscretions,
aberrations, and private idiosyncrasies. Trilogy of Solitude (fig. 8) is a flashback
from the days in the dorm before marriage and children. Some of the mem-
9. Ibid. ories are authentic, some fictional. Like college students almost anywhere,

10. Regarding her interest in cats, Bhattacharyya
has written: "Cats with their stealthy habits and
quietness evoke a feeling of the sinister and
unpredictable in me. I have used cats repeatedly
from the beginning [of my career] in almost all my
drawings, as a recurrent motif . . . either sitting o r
standing quietly in a corner observing bathing
nudes o r intimate lovers; o r walking away with a
.
stolen fish. . . a scene which perhaps adds a bit of
dry humor t o my otherwise humorless works";
letter from Chandrirna Bhattacharyya t o the
author, 1994.
I I . Letter from Chandrima Bhattacharyya t o the
author, 1997.
12. Ibid.
especially in the heat of summer, the girls spend time rtzlaxing in front of the
television. More surprising, however, is their revealing attire. Shorts and halter
top might be seen on the streets of Mumbai or perhaps in New Delhi, but a
voluptuous bikini-clad student is unbelievably daring in t.he context of Bengal's
ultraconservative society. Women sunbathing on the balcony-one is nude-
have stopped the voyeuristic cat dead in its tracks. '
According to Bhattacharyya, "The central theme of the life of many
girls in the hostel was dressing up and going out to metst their beaus in the
evening. . . . their world revolved around their own activities and that of their
boyfriends."" Bhattacharyya places the lovelorn girl on the balcony in the
starry night, lost in thoughts of her beloved, a romantic myth with deep roots
in the Indian psyche. Bhattacharyya's pastiche is a late rrlillennium version of
the nayika or the beloved, whose various emotional states constituted one of
the most popular themes in eighteenth-century Hindu painting.
Other paintings, such as They Came in My Dreams (1992), conjure up the
microcosm of Santiniketan from more recent memories and experiences.
Juxtaposed narratives emulate the claustrophobic environment that encom-
passes both the professional and domestic life of its citizens. The quaint, plain
stucco bungalow that Bhattacharyya shared with her husband and two young
children is the fulcrum for unfolding events. She captures the endless maze of
trails that wind through lush vegetation and disappear o.ver a rise or down a
gully in the dark spaces that wind through the composition. The voyeur and
the open view of bathroom activity indicate that little goes undetected within
the insular college community. Everyone there can attest to the mischievous
urchins who climb over brick walls to steal fruit from backyard gardens. The
ubiquitous nayika reappears under a shade-giving tree, her euphoric state in
utter contrast to the old woman who stares upward at a couple admiring the
star-filled sky. This is Bhattacharyya's quintessential Santiniketan, in which
"Dark starry skies evoke a strong nostalgia for scented summer nights with
their pleasantly cool breeze and deep shadows of large trees, brought alive by
the distant strumming of a guitar and conversation of students enjoying the
balmy evening." l 2
The work of these five artists exemplifies the breadth of cultural experience
that informs contemporary Indian art. Bhattacharyya's paintings wed romantic
nostalgia with present-day realism. The philosophic and time/space disparity
she employs is favored by a majority of contemporary artists. With icono-
clastic zeal, Bawa reconfigures centuries-old iconographit:~of Hindu gods
and goddesses. Ganguly refers to Kalighat folk art in her crusade to dislodge
entrenched social traditions. Vaikunthan captures indelicate qualities of
village people that most city dwellers believe they have transcended. And
Bhattacharya celebrates notions of romance inherent in Indian culture.
Educated and informed, knowledgeable about world art ,as well as their
own, these Indian artists still find the best inspiration on their doorstep.
I would like t o extend my gratitude t o Surekha Shoerey, Gayle Nesom, and Mark White
Marcella C. Sirhandi, associate professor in art history at Oklahoma State University, Stillwater, publishes
and lectures on modern and contemporary South Asian art. She has also curated exhibitions on Indian and
Pakistani painting.
4 7 art journal