Deccani Paintings

Court Paintings of India
Table of Contents
0 Preface & Acknowledgements
1 Introduction
2 Techniques and Practices
3 The Visual Revolution
4 Mughal Paintings
5 Deccani Paintings
6 Rajput Paintings in the Plains
7 Rajput Painting in the Hills
8 Notes
List of Illustrations
Bibliography
Index

An Aristocratic Folk Art

The major centres of Rajput painting in the plains were the various Hindu states of Rajasthan and the region to the south known generally as Malwa. The principal states of Rajasthan were Ajmer, Amber (also known as Jaipur after 1727), Bikaner, Bundi, Kishangarh, Kotah, Marwar (capital: Jodhpur) and Mewar (capital: Udaipur). The larger states had many fiefs under them which were known as thikana. For instance, a thikana of Mewar was Deogarh where a distinctive manner of painting developed in the eighteenth century. Although the region of Malwa contained several Hindu states, the most important of which was Orcha, we do not know whether the paintings labelled as "Malwa" were done for any particular court. Indeed, this seems unlikely for while portraits of rulers and court pictures are known from most Rajasthani states mentioned above, no portraits to date have been identified as reflecting the Malwa manner.

There is no doubt that most Rajput courts patronized some form of painting, and individual artists were often attached to particular courts. However, all rulers were not always interested in the visual arts, and the painters therefore moved about a good deal. For example, the eighteenth century Mewar painter known as Bagta and his son Choka are known to have painted both for the Udaipur and the Deogarh courts. Because of the peregrinations of the painters, it is often difficult to attribute a picture precisely to a court or a centre. Furthermore, although Rajput pictures in the plains were produced over three centuries (1600-1900), all the courts did not patronize art all the time. In the seventeenth century only three courts appear to have cultivated the art of painting seriously: Bikaner, Bundi and Mewar (and, of course, Malwa, which however was not a state). Although pictures were also produced in many of the other states in the seventeenth century, one is less certain as to whether they were created specifically for the courts. Illustrations of religious texts and poetical works, which dominate seventeenth century Rajput painting in the plains, could have been commissioned by patrons who were not necessarily princes or courtiers. Most Rajasthani courts became more interested in painting in the following century. The most prominent among them were Ajmer (and its thikana Sawar), Deogarh, Jatpur, Jodhpur, Kishangarh, Kotah, Raghogarh, Uniara and Datia in central India. It must be remembered, however, that no systematic study of these various centres has yet been made and therefore attributions of Rajput pictures to the different centres are often uncertain.

By the year 1600 most Rajput states in the plains had been subdued by the Emperor Akbar and Rajput princesses had already entered the imperial harem, but Mughal aesthetic was slow to penetrate the realm of Rajput taste. In a sense this was inevitable. The radical changes affected by the Mughal artists must have seemed strange to Rajput patrons who were bound by centuries of traditions, which they were slow to discard. While the Mughal style was born and nurtured like a hothouse plant in Akbar's karkhana, Rajput art, even though nourished by the aristocrats of society, never really lost its folk roots.

Indeed, the slight initial impact of Mughal aesthetic upon Rajput paintings of the early seventeenth century becomes clearly evident if we compare pictures from both Mewar (R2) and Malwa (R3-4) with contemporary Mughal paintings. Except for the costumes, there is little in these pictures to suggest even the slightest familiarity with the Mughal pictorial tradition. There is no attempt at suggesting perspective; the planes are established by bands of pure colours which show no effort at mixing or graduation; light is distributed uniformly over the surface; and the faces register no emotions but vacuously stare at each other with large almond-shaped eyes. The reductive simplicity of the composition with emphasis on the square or the rectangle, the abstract use of bold patches of colour and the total disregard for illusionistic tricks are features that relate these paintings much more closely to the sixteenth century Bhagavata (R1) than to Mughal pictures. As in the earlier Bhagavata, the colour red, symbolic of passion, dominates the rather limited palette, and trees and architectural elements are introduced not to create a landscape or to suggest a sense of space, but to indicate a setting against which the figures stand out in bold relief. Sensuous as the figures are, their volumes are suggested purely by the vitality of the drawing and the strong juxtapositions of colours rather than by shading or brushwork. Considering that these pictures were painted at about the same time as the Akbarnama paintings (M11-12), one cannot but be surprised by their naivete and elegant simplicity. If the painter of these examples was aware of Mughal pictures, then we must conclude that his reluctance to introduce the more sophisticated achievements of Mughal aesthetic was due to the inherent conservatism of his own training or perhaps that of his patron.

By the mid-seventeenth century, artists for the Rajput patrons showed a greater awareness of Mughal aesthetic, but in a diluted manner. For example, in a beautiful painting by the eminent Mewar painter Sahibdin (R5), there is a much stronger interest in rocks and trees, but the composition is still basically pictographic. Though in a less obvious manner than in the sixteenth century Bhagavata (R1), the planes are still suggested by horizontal bands and differentiated by colour patches and organic props. Borrowed from Mughal pictures, the variegated rock formations are added as elements of design creating a poetic rather than a naturalistic effect. Even though the ground is covered in patches with tufts of grass and foliage, following the Mughal convention, Sahibdin found nothing incongruous in adding clearly defined areas of red and bright yellow almost in a playful manner. Several different anecdotes of the story are still crowded into a single overall composition following the more ancient convention of multiple perspective, and the vignettes are cleverly divided by rocks and trees that stand straight and upright like sentinels. Each vignette is a "mini-composition", and our eyes wander over the entire surface seeking a focal point.

Rather than history, the Rajput patrons continued to display the traditional Indian interest in mythology and in the realm of the gods. As we have seen, this interest in mythology had rubbed off on Akbar as well. The most important religious texts commissioned by the Rajputs were the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, the Bhagavatapurana and the Gitagovinda. All these texts are Vaishnava, and indeed the enchanting world of Krishna formed by far the most predominant theme in Rajput paintings, whether in the plains or in the hills. So pervasive was the cult of Krishna in Rajasthan that in some states, such as Bundi and Kishangarh, the rulers were often identified with the deity, and the princes and the ladies of the court provided the models for the representations of the divine lover and his companions. However, although Vaishnava themes predominate, Saiva subjects were also familiar (R15-18), but rarely were they represented with the richness of imagination and the emotional warmth that characterize the pictures representing Krishna.

The Rajput painter was generally more tradition-bound in delineating religious subjects since they afforded him with a greater opportunity to indulge his imagination and flights of fantasy. Since the subject matter was of the divine rather than the mundane realm, he was less constrained by the fetters of realism. The divine world that he was expected to create was not bound by terrestrial laws or limitations, and nature and the gods could assume any shape or form at will, or perform any feat, no matter how impossible by human standards. Thus, rocks could be multi-hued, trees could blossom perennially, and there could be perpetual sunshine in paradise. This is why fantasy rather than fact characterizes the divine landscape; and the human figures, even in their divine guise, are much more abstracted than they are in pictures depicting secular subjects (which, as we shall see, are also often treated in a fanciful manner); temporal concepts are generally ignored; and space is frequently distorted, as it can be done in movies today through sophisticated optical techniques.

A Jahangir or a Thomas Roe may not have appreciated the exciting composition or the bold simplicity of design in an arresting Ramayana picture (R3) by an unknown Malwa painter, but a Matisse or a Picasso (or for that matter any connoisseur of contemporary art) would have. A daring composition, it takes us by surprise with its capricious arrangements of shapes and forms and its total disregard for symmetry and perspective. One does not always encounter such unusual compositions in Rajput pictures in which formal rectitude was generally deemed a virtue. Thus, here, indeed, was an imaginative artist who was more interested in recreating rather than imitating nature.

Disregard for natural laws, distortions of forms and juxtapositions of colours were some of the means with which the Rajput painter produced his visual effect. Just as Sahibdin did not hesitate to use strident colours to set off his figures, irrespective of naturalistic considerations (R5), so also a Bikaner painter did not find anything improbable about making his shrines into little tree-houses (R16). If asked how he could have been so cavalier about disregarding the laws of gravity, surely he would have answered that such strange juxtapositions can always take place in one's imagination or in a dream, and certainly in the enchanted realm of the pictorial world. It is difficult to imagine that almost two hundred years before the appearance of "modern art", unknown painters in Mewar were creating such contemporary-looking pictures as R15, where the goddess is sitting impassively on a gigantic yellow lotus that magically floats against a purple background, representing the cosmic ocean.

In general, bright strong colours and simple compositions with few surprises remained the dominant features of the religious pictures (R15-20). Atmosphere was often eschewed for narrative clarity; a sense of design rather than optical veracity, aliveness rather than naturalism were the principal aesthetic concerns. The world within the picture was idyllic, and the style was essentially pictographic. The pictures had little or no relation to external reality and depicted their idyllic world filled with idealized figures with expressionless faces making ritualized gestures, but with both charm and grace and always with a sense of visual harmony and a feeling for rich design.

Some of the finest religious paintings during the eighteenth century were produced in Kishangarh. Of the two reproduced here, one depicts Rama taking care of a wounded bird as his brother Lakshmana and wife Sita watch solicitously (R21). In the other, a naked sage is preaching before a ruler and a congregation of yogis (R22). While it is tempting to identify the sage as the Vaishnava saint Vallabhacharya, the founder of the Natha cult in Mewar, inscriptions, in fact, identify the sage as Sukhdeva, the king as Parikshit; both are celebrated figures in Hindu mythology. Despite the strong influences of Mughal naturalism, it is remarkable how tradition-bound the artists were. The faces of most figures in both pictures reflect little or no emotion which is expressed mostly through the ritualized gestures of the hands. Nevertheless, the painter responsible for the Ramayana picture was remarkably successful in conveying the tender mood of the occasion. Although the landscape elements in both these pictures, as well as in the Jaipur Ramayana (R23), were borrowed from Mughal pictures, they were employed with greater concern for formalism and symmetry than for naturalism. These are not landscapes of observed facts; rather, natural elements were reshaped and rearranged to create a purely visual design and to suggest a sense of harmony between man, nature and beast.

One of the favourite genres of Rajput artists was to depict ladies engaged in various forms of worship. We have already seen a Bikaner picture where Parvati is shown standing before a Sivalinga (R10). In a charming Mewar picture of the eighteenth century, two ladies are worshipping a Sivalinga ensconced in a banyan tree (R24). The effective contrast of blues and whites, the more realistically rendered banyan tree, the lotus tank with its curiously jagged shore, the gently rolling hills and a grey sky with stylized clouds are all beautifully integrated into a composition that is certainly convincing as a landscape even if highly romanticized. Jai Ram, a court painter of Udaipur who was active around 1730, may have painted this picture but whether it was produced for the court or whether the ladies represent princesses cannot be ascertained.

Rather than history, the Rajput patrons continued to display the traditional Indian interest in mythology and in the realm of the gods. As we have seen, this interest in mythology had rubbed off on Akbar as well. The most important religious texts commissioned by the Rajputs were the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, the Bhagavatapurana and the Gitagovinda. All these texts are Vaishnava, and indeed the enchanting world of Krishna formed by far the most predominant theme in Rajput paintings, whether in the plains or in the hills. So pervasive was the cult of Krishna in Rajasthan that in some states, such as Bundi and Kishangarh, the rulers were often identified with the deity, and the princes and the ladies of the court provided the models for the representations of the divine lover and his companions. However, although Vaishnava themes predominate, Saiva subjects were also familiar (R15-18), but rarely were they represented with the richness of imagination and the emotional warmth that characterize the pictures representing Krishna.

The Rajput painter was generally more tradition-bound in delineating religious subjects since they afforded him with a greater opportunity to indulge his imagination and flights of fantasy. Since the subject matter was of the divine rather than the mundane realm, he was less constrained by the fetters of realism. The divine world that he was expected to create was not bound by terrestrial laws or limitations, and nature and the gods could assume any shape or form at will, or perform any feat, no matter how impossible by human standards. Thus, rocks could be multi-hued, trees could blossom perennially, and there could be perpetual sunshine in paradise. This is why fantasy rather than fact characterizes the divine landscape; and the human figures, even in their divine guise, are much more abstracted than they are in pictures depicting secular subjects (which, as we shall see, are also often treated in a fanciful manner); temporal concepts are generally ignored; and space is frequently distorted, as it can be done in movies today through sophisticated optical techniques.

A Jahangir or a Thomas Roe may not have appreciated the exciting composition or the bold simplicity of design in an arresting Ramayana picture (R3) by an unknown Malwa painter, but a Matisse or a Picasso (or for that matter any connoisseur of contemporary art) would have. A daring composition, it takes us by surprise with its capricious arrangements of shapes and forms and its total disregard for symmetry and perspective. One does not always encounter such unusual compositions in Rajput pictures in which formal rectitude was generally deemed a virtue. Thus, here, indeed, was an imaginative artist who was more interested in recreating rather than imitating nature.

Disregard for natural laws, distortions of forms and juxtapositions of colours were some of the means with which the Rajput painter produced his visual effect. Just as Sahibdin did not hesitate to use strident colours to set off his figures, irrespective of naturalistic considerations (R5), so also a Bikaner painter did not find anything improbable about making his shrines into little tree-houses (R16). If asked how he could have been so cavalier about disregarding the laws of gravity, surely he would have answered that such strange juxtapositions can always take place in one's imagination or in a dream, and certainly in the enchanted realm of the pictorial world. It is difficult to imagine that almost two hundred years before the appearance of "modern art", unknown painters in Mewar were creating such contemporary-looking pictures as R15, where the goddess is sitting impassively on a gigantic yellow lotus that magically floats against a purple background, representing the cosmic ocean.

In general, bright strong colours and simple compositions with few surprises remained the dominant features of the religious pictures (R15-20). Atmosphere was often eschewed for narrative clarity; a sense of design rather than optical veracity, aliveness rather than naturalism were the principal aesthetic concerns. The world within the picture was idyllic, and the style was essentially pictographic. The pictures had little or no relation to external reality and depicted their idyllic world filled with idealized figures with expressionless faces making ritualized gestures, but with both charm and grace and always with a sense of visual harmony and a feeling for rich design.

Some of the finest religious paintings during the eighteenth century were produced in Kishangarh. Of the two reproduced here, one depicts Rama taking care of a wounded bird as his brother Lakshmana and wife Sita watch solicitously (R21). In the other, a naked sage is preaching before a ruler and a congregation of yogis (R22). While it is tempting to identify the sage as the Vaishnava saint Vallabhacharya, the founder of the Natha cult in Mewar, inscriptions, in fact, identify the sage as Sukhdeva, the king as Parikshit; both are celebrated figures in Hindu mythology. Despite the strong influences of Mughal naturalism, it is remarkable how tradition-bound the artists were. The faces of most figures in both pictures reflect little or no emotion which is expressed mostly through the ritualized gestures of the hands. Nevertheless, the painter responsible for the Ramayana picture was remarkably successful in conveying the tender mood of the occasion. Although the landscape elements in both these pictures, as well as in the Jaipur Ramayana (R23), were borrowed from Mughal pictures, they were employed with greater concern for formalism and symmetry than for naturalism. These are not landscapes of observed facts; rather, natural elements were reshaped and rearranged to create a purely visual design and to suggest a sense of harmony between man, nature and beast.

One of the favourite genres of Rajput artists was to depict ladies engaged in various forms of worship. We have already seen a Bikaner picture where Parvati is shown standing before a Sivalinga (R10). In a charming Mewar picture of the eighteenth century, two ladies are worshipping a Sivalinga ensconced in a banyan tree (R24). The effective contrast of blues and whites, the more realistically rendered banyan tree, the lotus tank with its curiously jagged shore, the gently rolling hills and a grey sky with stylized clouds are all beautifully integrated into a composition that is certainly convincing as a landscape even if highly romanticized. Jai Ram, a court painter of Udaipur who was active around 1730, may have painted this picture but whether it was produced for the court or whether the ladies represent princesses cannot be ascertained.

Ladies worshipping the rising sun appears to have been especially popular at Udaipur and its thikana Deogarh. Of the two examples illustrated here, one (R25) was very likely produced at Udaipur and the other (R26) at Deogarh. The Deogarh picture is similar to another attributed to the painter Bagta, who was active in the second half of the eighteenth century, both at Udaipur and Deogarh.⁵¹ He appears to have been attached first to the Udaipur court and sometime after 1767 moved to Deogarh. Although the two pictures are stylistically related there is no doubt that they are by different hands. The lady wearing a red sari is given more squat proportions and her body shows perfunctory attempts at modeling with a deep tan colour. The other lady, however, is a more graceful figure and obviously here the painter was more concerned in revealing her fleshly charms than expressing her spiritual aspirations. The milky white complexion, the purely linear modeling, the use of stippling, the enamel-like finish of the colours and the strong sensuous flavour of the picture are some of the characteristics that are associated with Bagta.

Love's Enchanted Zone

If one were to choose a single theme that preoccupied the Rajput patrons, both in the plains and the hills, that theme was undoubtedly love, whether divine or human. And here the loves of Krishna and his dalliance with the cowherdesses or gopis in Brindaban, so richly described in both religious and secular poetry, remained the predominant archetype for the princes and their harems which often included scores of wives and concubines. It has sometimes been suggested that the loves of Krishna with his gopis allowed the Rajputs to fantasize their own frustrations with romantic love. While this may be true in some instances, it would be wrong to conclude that all Rajput princes were frustrated lovers. By and large, the interest in the loves of Krishna was motivated both by erotic desires and religious ardour. The interest in the erotically charged Vaishnava poetry and the beautiful pictures that transformed the lyrical verses into sensuous visual images was not simply an expression of "the Rajput need for romantic passion" (though this was certainly one of the reasons). This is evident from the intensity of spiritual longing expressed in his poems by Sawant Singh (b. 1699, d. 1764), the Kishangarh ruler who was an avowed Vaishnava and a sensitive poet. The following verse is a typical example and could hardly have been written by a poet who was simply romantically inclined or a frustrated lover.

Here is Love's enchanted zone
Here Time and the Firmament stand still
Here the Bride and Bridegroom
Never can grow old.
Here the fountains never cease to play
And the night is ever young.⁵²

Few verses have expressed the flavour, mood and the ethos of Rajput paintings depicting the loves of Krishna, or for that matter courtly love, with such precision and eloquence as the above. Whether we look at Krishna and Radha making love (R27-28), or princes in dalliance their beloveds (R48-49) time and firmament always seem to stand still and the lovers never grow old nor tire of lovemaking. In the beautiful Mewar picture produced around 1700 (R27) how tenderly and gracefully Krishna attempts to arouse Radha who is feigning sleep. Although figures are idealized, Radha's face is a convincing study of the reluctant heroine who, however, cannot conceal her longing for her divine Trees and flowers, peacocks and garlands are added as symbols to en the sensuous beauty of the picture. In particular, the plantain at peacock are strong sexual symbols in Indian poetry, and have repeatedly employed by the artists to emphasize the erotic mood, as we see in several other paintings (R28, R31, R44-45, R49-50).

The centre that excelled all others in expressing the end moments of love with exquisite delicacy was Kishangarh in the second half of the eighteenth century. By one of those rare conjunctions stars, the right artist and the right patron came together once more history of Indian painting, and as a result, Kishangarh produced some of the most admired of Rajput pictures. The painter was Nihal Chand the patron Sawant Singh, who, as a youth, was closely associated with Mughal court. It was at the Mughal court that he may have developed taste for painting, but Sawant Singh was also a poet and an devotee of Krishna. Like many a Rajput prince, he developed a pass love affair with a bewitching singer, Bani Thani, and spent some time with her either in Kishangarh or in Brindaban near Mathura, Krishna had sported with the gopis. It has been suggested Bani Thani was the model for the distinctive feminine type used for Radha in Kishangarh paintings, though in point of fact the type is a further stylization of the female figures seen in early eighteenth century Mughal painting. In any event, what is clear is that the evocative pictures period reflect a style which is extremely refined in technique and lyrical in its expressiveness. The master who was most responsible for this distinctive and much admired Kishangarh style was Nihal Chand, one of the finest painters to have served a Rajput prince.

As we look at the superb examples of Kishangarh paintings illustrated in this book (R21-22, R29), we can do no better than quote an evocative passage written by Eric Dickinson who discovered Kishangarh pictures in 1943:

Now before our astonished gaze was revealed a decor and a milieu that to match so rare a content might have taxed the Abyssinian maid singing on Mt. Abora. In the few paintings passing in review before us was revealed an amazingly tender, sensuous, yet over-refined Krishnaite world where pastoral bower was exchanged for palace gardens replete with every accessory to beguile the devoted colloquies of lovers... Who could imagine so sensuous yet refined a treatment of the loves of Radha and Krishna as here was now revealed? For here the fountains splash in the enchanted clearings consecrated to the footsteps of the Divine lovers; here, amidst a decor of marble pavilions and playing fountains, attendant with attendant vie ministering the tender ritual of love.⁵⁴

Most Kishangarh pictures included here were created between 1750-1775, and some, particularly the beautiful picture with Krishna and gopis (R29), may have been painted by Nihal Chand himself. Curiously, except for the figures of Krishna and Radha, all the gopis were taken straight out of Mughal paintings. The elongated, mango-shaped faces of Krishna and Radha echoing the shape of their eyes are said to have been created by Nihal Chand himself, and the use of two kinds of faces in the same picture would tend to confirm Douglas Barrett's remarks that though idealized these faces have "the feel of an individual experience". Apart from the gopis the landscaping with the herd of deer, the distant views of cities and the river with its sailboats reflect strong Mughal influence, both in terms of visual passages as well as their fine craftsmanship. Especially noteworthy is the symbolic presence of Kamadeva and Rati in the lower left hand corner; they have arrived in their chariot displaying their fish banner to encourage the divine lovers on the other shore. It may also be mentioned that while generally Kishangarh artists preferred lakes, here we are given a wonderful view of a river, which may well be the Yamuna on whose bank Krishna once sported with the gopis, as did Sawant Singh with his Bani Thani. As it has already been suggested, the pictures representing divine love were often modeled from life, as it was led in the courts. In an eighteenth century picture painted by an artist named Kasan or Kisan (R31), Krishna and the gopis celebrate the festival of Holi by spraying colours on one another, while in a Mewar picture (R32) Krishna embraces a gopi as the others await their turn. Such scenes were in fact enacted at court, and in a sense, Krishna served not only as a divine prototype for the princely lover, but also as his alter-ego.

Among the various forms of poetry that exploited the endless moods and nuances of love, two of the most popular were the nayaka-nayikabheda (differentiation of the types of lovers and the beloved) and ragamala (garland of raga). Of the former type of literature, the Rasikapriya of Kesavadasa was most appreciated in the plains. Kesavadasa wrote his opus towards the end of the sixteenth century in Malwa, which is probably one reason why the subject was favoured in that region (R4). In most of these texts Krishna is cast in the role of the prototypical hero, while Radha is the leading lady. As is the case with the Malwa Rasikapriya or the Amber pictures (R30), there are few surprises in such paintings, and colour was the dominant element in capturing the poetic flavour and in expressing the poem's mood. Malwa artists used their forms with great economy, and, generally, a disarming simplicity characterizes their compositions, but, as Archer stated so eloquently, "their straining luxuriant trees blending with swaying creepers. . . create a soft meandering rhythm and only the human figures, with their sharply-cut veils and taut intense faces, express... the prevailing cult of frenzied passion.

Although there is a much wider variety of themes in Ragamala poetry than in those related to the hero and the heroine, love is, nevertheless, the invariable leit motif. A raga is a musical mode which has its own prevailing mood and sentiment. Each raga was described in verses which were often included at the top of a picture, as we see in two examples illustrated here (R33, R36). These verses provided the iconography of the pictures, and a series of such ragas came to be known as the ragamala. In each system of music, there are six basic ragas and their derivatives are known as ragini (wife of a raga) and ragaputra (the son of a raga). Usually, therefore, the raga and the ragaputra are personified as males and the ragini as a female, with some exceptions. For example, the Nata Ragini (R33), although a female mode, depicts a battle scene, while Malkos (R2a), which is also a ragini, is represented as a dominant male.

Be that as it may, a glance at the Ragamala pictures illustrated here, leaves little doubt that love and lovers are the predominant features of their iconography. In one (R34) a lover is about to shoot a flowery arrow of love; in another (35a) a lonely lady draws a portrait of her absent lover as the storm clouds menacingly darken the sky and symbolize "frenzied passion"; in yet another picture Krishna and Radha swing together as the rains fall like a curtain in the background (R38). The ubiquitous peacock (R34, R36, R38), monsoon clouds (R35a, R36), banana trees, the timid deer (R37), the still moon (R35b)-all symbolizing love-are employed repeatedly in Ragamala pictures as they are in others depicting love, whether human or divine. Indeed, just as a raga is a given composition of basic musical notes that remain constant, but is enriched with exciting improvisations and variations by the performer, so also the iconographic elements of Ragamala pictures dealt with the same basic iconographic elements; but how differently and expressively they were combined in a given composition depended on the skill and virtuosity of the painters involved.

This is clearly evident if we compare the early seventeenth century Mewar Vibhasa Ragini (R2b) with the same theme painted almost a century later by a Bundi artist (R34). Both stylistically and iconographically the two pictures are different. The Mewar artist employed a more pictographic style with a simplified compositional structure and assertive areas of colours, where the red predominates. The Bundi artist, on the other hand, showed much greater awareness of Mughal aesthetic, both in the use of architecture to convey a sense of space and in the more variegated palette. Iconographically, the lover in the Mewar picture appears to be preparing to shoot the arrow at the beloved, while in the Bundi painting, we are not sure who the target is, since the beloved is already in the lover's lap. The Mewar artist gives us no clue whether the encounter is taking place during the day or at night; but the Bundi artist has added the moon and the stars in the sky and a flaming torch within the pavilion to indicate a night scene.

The verses describing the musical mode are often cryptic and usually the pictures reveal a much richer imagination. For instance, a typical verse describing the Todi Ragini is as follows:
Divided from her darling, most unhappy in love like a nun renouncing the world,

This Todi abides in the grove and charms the hearts of the does.⁵⁵
How brilliantly an unknown Kishangarh artist has employed the same orange, the colour of renunciation, for the sky as well as the lady's garments and contrasted both with the mellow and varying shades of green for the hilly landscape (R37). The evening sky also echoes the melancholy mood of Todi, as do the innocent and timid does and the barren landscape.

Ragamala pictures were especially popular in Bundi and Kotah, and some of the most delicate and lyrical examples were produced by unknown Bundi artists in the second half of the eighteenth century. Two beautiful examples illustrated here (R35a, b) depict the Ragini Dhanasri and Patamanjari. Unlike the strident colouring of early pictures, here the painter has employed pale, pastel shades such as green, bluish-grey and mauve to weave a pellucid and dreamlike world. Both these captivating pictures remind us of verses written by Kalidasa, the greatest of Sanskrit poets (5th century A.D.). The Dhanasri would be a perfect illustration of the following verse from Meghaduta, in which the banished lover tells the cloud-messenger that as the messenger will approach the palace where the hero's beloved is pining away,

Or again, the unusual rendering of Patamanjari is a sensitive and delicate visual transformation of the beloved in her lonely bed, as described by Kalidasa:

Voluptuous Inactivity

Although the Rajput princes did not evince any interest in historic as the Mughals did, they did commission pictures that recorded some of their activities, which Tod facetiously characterized as 'voluptuous inactivity'.⁵⁸ For, indeed, after their submission to the Mughals, the Rajput remained by and large content with managing or mismanaging their kingdoms; with fighting now and again with one another, especially while Aurangzeb was preoccupied with the Deccan, and thereafter, when the imperial authority had diminished drastically; with hunting and celebrating the numerous Hindu festivals; and generally indulging in opium wine, women and song, which, incidentally, were also the favourite pastimes of the Mughals. These are, therefore, the principal subject depicted in Rajput court pictures from about 1650 until 1900. The Rajputs also emulated the Mughals in having their portraits done, though without the perspicacity or the psychological insight of Mughal portraiture.

This is clearly evident if we look at the beautiful picture of Sambhuji and his entourage visiting a yogi (R6). Even though the attires of the figures have been rendered with meticulous care, all the faces, whether of the ruler, his attendants or the yogis are characterized by large, perfectly shaped, vacuous eyes. This element remained a hallmark of Rajput portraits, no matter how recognizable the faces and how true to life the features were (R39-42). Although portraiture was known in India from ancient times, kings were always portrayed as ideal beings with the features and proportions of the gods. Obviously, it was difficult for the Rajputs to abandon a custom so deeply rooted in tradition, and hence formal portraits of Rajput princes were invariably idealized and "cosmeticized", if one is permitted to coin a phrase, to a far greater degree than was the case with Mughal portraits. However, like their Mughal overlords, the Rajput rulers too demonstrated their divine right to rule by adding radiant halos around their heads. As a matter of fact, this was a conceit that the Mughals adopted from their Hindu subjects.

The representations of Bir Singh (R39) or of Suratsinghji (R40), who may have been the Bikaner ruler of that name, are quite typical of Rajput portraits that were modeled after Mughal prototypes. Much more perceptive, though inevitably romanticized, is the portrait of Raj Singh, a powerful and influential Bikaner prince (R41), rendered in Jodhpur around 1775. It not only reflects the Jodhpur artist's love for swagger and elegance in the disproportionate size and the accomplished delineation of the enormous turban but it presents the prince as an overbearing, larger-than-life figure. This is also true of a Kishangarh portrait, where the ruler is entertained by a group of singers (R42). The lack of depth makes it appear as if the monarch is an icon hanging on a wall rather than a man sitting on a balcony and enjoying a performance. Nevertheless, the face is rendered with great sensitivity, and subtle shading has enhanced its liveliness, even though the prince seems haughty and remote.

This extraordinary fusion of fact and fantasy, of voluptuous opulence and romantic flavour remained the sine qua non of Rajput pictures, whether the subject was religion, love or the court, and no matter how compelling the desire to adopt Mughal aesthetic. In a sense, even eighteenth century Mughal painters and patrons succumbed to the Indian penchant for the symbolic and the compulsive need to romanticize both nature and life. Whether the scene depicts musical soirees (R44, R46, R47) or the royal hunt (R51-52), hieratic grandeur and courtly splendour were never eschewed for realism or drama. No matter how different the styles, the figures sit or stand impassively, each according to his or her importance, and display no emotion, whether they are admiring a beautiful "nautch" girl or shooting a lion or a tiger. Even more intimate scenes of love (R48-50) are enacted with formal detachment; a few ritualized gestures and the interlocking of their eyes-the inevitable play of eyes- transform these pictures from painted documents into visual delights. Indeed, if we compare these pictures of courtly love with those of the divine lovers (R27-28), it is evident how easily and imperceptively the human and the divine worlds merge in a painting. It is also astonishing how the painters were so skillful in employing the same pictorial devices time and again to create such deliciously different pictures.

Hunting was not just a pastime but a ritual with the Rajputs. Spring was the ideal time for the chase, and, as Tod has recorded, hunting was not simply a substitute for wars or a wanton display of valour, but dedicated to the great Goddess whose appetite for sacrifice was insatiable. Countless hunting pictures were produced, especially for the courts of Kotah and Udaipur. By comparison, Bundi hunting pictures are somewhat rarer, and, in a delightful example illustrated here, we see a princess hunting a lion at dusk (R51). Nowhere is fantasy more enchantingly expressed than in this engaging and mildly amusing picture, where the painter has completely ignored the drama and excitement of the occasion. Secure in her canopied pavilion in a charming lotus pond, the princess and her companion, like the ducks in the pond or the wild boars in the meadow, seem unruffled by the appearance of the king of beasts. The various greens, the pink lotuses, the mauve rocks and the brilliant orange sky create a landscape of enchantment, where the gun-toting princess indeed seems an incongruity. Here we see how even a mundane subject with all its violent possibilities was rendered with such unpretentious charm and disarming candour.

Another splendid hunting picture depicts Rawat Gokuldasji of Deogarh trying to bag a tiger (R52). Very likely the painter was the innovative Bagta who was painting for the Udaipur court in the mid-eighteenth century. In this instance, Bagta appears to have been aware of both the Kotah and the Udaipur styles, for the landscaping and the vegetation in this sumptuous picture combine the luxuriance of Kotah with the formalism of Udaipur. Here also, as in the Bundi painting, there was very little attempt to express the excitement or dangers of a hunt. Except for the prince and his retainers and for all the calmness expressed in this composition, it could equally have been a representation of a hermitage. (Compare with R5.) Gokuldas was a large man, as we know from Tod's description, and the artist has left us in no doubt by drastically reducing the size of his companions. Rather curiously, Gokuldas is preparing to shoot the tiger with a bow and arrow, when normally, all hunting at this period was done with guns. Be that as it may, and even if we are not invited to participate in the excitement of the hunt, we can sit back comfortably and admire the ingenuity of the artist and the rich world of forms that he created from his imagination.

Even though the Rajput patrons were inordinately fond of hunting (despite the strong Vaishnava influence in Rajasthan), no Rajput patron, whether in the plains or in the hills, appears to have had any interest in fauna and flora in the way the Mughals did. The only animals that were given immortality by the Rajput patrons were their favourite elephant (R55), horse (R56) and occasionally, their hunting dog. Like the portraits of their masters, those of the animals too were often idealized and the pictures were rendered more as memorials than as exercises in observation. Thus, no Rajput patron felt Jahangir's compulsive need to observe animals and flowers with both delight and curiosity and to have them painted by his leading artists. Animals and birds, like trees and flowers, were employed symbolically by the Rajput artists, whenever required by the subject of the painting. Nevertheless, what the animals in Rajput pictures lack in accuracy is amply compensated for by imagination and empathy, especially in the depiction of monkeys, deer and cows. Even though the animals, except the elephant, and birds in Rajput pictures were conceptually rendered, they were always depicted with affection and humour, and even with a touch of humanity (R3, R5, R23). Naturalistic or not, the birds and animals are lively and friendly and the flowers and trees delightfully decorative. In the enchanting realm of Rajput pictures, as in that of the poem, man and nature exist in eternal harmony.