Rajput Painting in the Hills

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

The women in Basohli style pictures are endowed with an almost arrogant quality that certainly introduces a new element in the conception of feminine beauty in Indian art. Basohli women, whether in the form of the goddesses (P2, P4, P7), or of a heroine (P5), are indeed heroic figures who are totally self-confident and yet desirable. It may be pointed out that women in the hills are generally much more assertive and forthright than those in the plains, and anyone who has lived in the Himalayas knows that they can look a man in the eye with unabashed candour. Whoever was responsible for creating this type of feminine ideal was, at least in part, expressing the frank and unaffected nature of the Pahari women.

Be that as it may, we must not forget that even if we do not know the artist responsible for creating this scintillating and arresting style, we can assume that he was both inventive and self-assured and may, in fact, have consciously reacted against the Mughal style, which he probably found unsuitable for the subjects he had to depict. If, as seems likely, the style emerged at the Basholi court, the patron would have been Sangram Pal (r. 1635-1673; see P14), since the earliest pictures are attributed to his reign. Sangram Pal was a heroic figure of compelling physical presence. We do know that he was the victor of twenty-two battles and the master of twenty-two wives; but it is not known whether he was interested in painting, although this is not unlikely since he was in close touch with the Mughals. However, we do know that his successor Kirpal Pal (P15) was a patron of the arts and a man of letters. He commissioned a Rasamanjari series from an artist called Devidasa who was from Nurpur and who styled himself "well-versed in the art of painting". There seems no reason why Devidasa could not have painted for Sangram Pal as well and may possibly have been the creator of this exciting and luxuriant style which has been characterized as "hot as Indian curry". ⁶⁴

Scholars have frequently expressed surprise at the sudden appearance of the Basohli style and the fact that even at its first appearance it was, to use Archer's phrase, "at the very acme of its brilliance". However, it is debatable whether every style must have its shaky and primitive beginnings. Styles of art often take unexpected leaps that are usually inexplicable, unless we attribute them to the genius of an individual artist, as must have been the case for the creation of the Basohli style, and, as we shall see later, for a second new style that appeared in the hills in the next century. The painter who created the Basohli style was very much aware of the Mughal style, as is evident from the preoccupation with sartorial elegance, the exquisitely detailed rendering of dresses, jewels, carpets and architectural designs, the smooth and brilliant finish of the colours, and the use of certain pictorial devices in delineating the foreground and rocks. But, as if by intention, the style avoids the Mughal concern for perspective, observation of facts, psychological insight and naturalism (except to a limited extent in portraits). Emotion is depicted not through the facial expressions of the figures, but, as we saw with the Rajput pictures of the plains, through ritualized gestures, forms of nature and vehemence of colours. Trees, rocks, water, animals and birds are employed symbolically and to produce an interesting visual design, as was done by Indian artists for generations.

The simplified compositions and strong colouring applied in bold juxtapositions were also characteristics of sixteenth and early seventeenth century Rajput paintings in general. However, the Basohli painter avoided his Rajput colleague's obsession with the ubiquitous red and considerably expanded his palette for the backgrounds, even though he continued to use monochromes. Although one may say his Mewar and Malwa counterparts were more audacious and enterprising in their compositions, the Basohli painter was more passionate in his use of colour. There may not be any evidence to prove a historical connection between the courts of Rajasthan and those of the hill states, but it would be wrong to suggest that art needed royal passports to travel from one region to another. Basohli paintings differ from the early seventeenth century paintings of the plains more in the expressiveness of the style and in the intensity of their glowing colours and assertive images than in the essential aesthetic vision.

While Rasamanjari and Ragamala pictures portray a quiet but passionate mood and restrict the artist's repertoire because of their poetic themes, much more varied and dramatic are representations of the Bhagavatapurana, as is evident from a superb example illustrated here (P6). The subject is the destruction of the horse-demon Kesi by Krishna. Almost an identical rendering of the subject may be seen in a more elaborate set of Bhagavata illustrations⁶⁵ attributed to Mankot and dated around 1700. However, even a cursory comparison of the two will make it clear that whether done at Basohli or at Mankot-and the former is more likely-the example illustrated here is considerably more dramatic and forceful. Especially compelling is the delineation of the horse; the violent turn of his head and the flying mane enhance the excitement and ferocity of the combat. Here, indeed, a remarkably perceptive artist has combined the pictographic and the naturalistic modes with great ingenuity. The horse is clearly in the naturalistic Mughal style and symbolizes brute, animal force and physical strength, while the stylized and idealized figure of Krishna, the decorative tree and the monochromatic background remind us that we are witnessing not an earthly combat, but a divine drama enacted in the mythical world.

Hot As Indian Curry

Until recently, Rajput painting in the hills appeared to have had a slightly later beginning than in the plains. A recently discovered manuscript of the Devimahatmya, written and illustrated in the Kangra region in a style related to the pre-Mughal style of the sixteenth century (R1), clearly indicates that religious paintings were not unknown in the hills before the seventeenth century.⁶⁰ Other illuminated pages of a Vaishnava manuscript are also known and they can be dated in the first half of the seventeenth century.⁶¹ In these examples the picture and the text are integrated on a horizontal page, and Mughal influences are tentative. However, by the mid-seventeenth century, Mughal elements were more pronounced in Pahari pictures, especially portraits, as we see in a beautiful painting illustrated here (P1). The inscription at the top simply identifies the seated lady as begum saheba or a noble lady. She may represent a Mughal princess who is being presented with a child. The child may be compared with the Mughal portrait of a royal child (M16), while the ladies are clearly delineated with the polish and elegance of Shah Jahani pictures. One does not know where exactly the picture was produced, but most probably at the Bilaspur court.

The very idea of portraiture, as illustrated by this Bilaspur picture, could not have been entertained without close familiarity with Mughal painting. For its refined workmanship of the faces, as well as the subtle tonality of the colours and the rich use of gold, this picture would have elicited the admiration of a Jahangir. A date around 1650 does not seem improbable when compared with other early Bilaspur court pictures. The figurative types, wearing similar striped pajamas, are very similar to the female musicians in a portrait of the Raja Dip Chand which William Archer assigned to Bilaspur and which may in fact have been rendered by the same artist.⁶²

Although nothing is known of the political relationship between Bilaspur and the Mughal court, we do know that the Mughals were meddling in the affairs of the hill states even before the fall of Kangra in 1620. Between 1613 and 1627, Bhupat Pal of Basohli was imprisoned by Jahangir as a result of the intrigues by Jagat Singh (1619-1646) of Nurpur. Bhupat Pal was subsequently released by Shah Jahan and the two became friends. After the conquest of the Kangra Fort a Mughal governor and garrison were permanently stationed there. Other Pahari rulers and princes attended the courts of both Jahangir and Shah Jahan and in 1658 Prithi Shah of Garhwal gave asylum to Suleiman Shikoh, a Mughal prince and son of Dara Shikoh. Apparently Suleiman Shikoh brought two artists with him to Garhwal and these were retained by the local ruler after the prince's departure.⁶³ But as Archer has noted the period was a "dead blank" for the arts and Garhwal was so poor that it was exempted from having to pay taxes to the imperial coffer. Thus, it is possible that at least one of the Mughal artists departed for Bilaspur, where painting appears to have flourished during the second half of the seventeenth century, as is evident from another exciting picture reproduced in this book (P3).

In this unusual picture of a harem scene a childbirth is in progress, a subject that is rare in Indian paintings. If the painter was a male, we do not know whether he had the opportunity to watch such an occasion in the palace, or whether the scene is entirely imaginary. Of course, he may have witnessed such scenes at home, although generally husbands were not expected to participate in a childbirth in those days; or the artist may have been a female. Be that as it may, the artist did have some knowledge of what happened on such occasions, for he did not forget to include an attendant holding a mirror so that the mother could watch the proceedings. Although many elements are borrowed from Mughal paintings, the ritualized gestures and the emotionless faces clearly reflect the prevailing taste of the Rajputs. Without an aesthetic, few mothers could have remained so calm and collected during a childbirth.

Important as Bilaspur was as the centre of painting in the hills in the seventeenth century, it was overshadowed by Basohli, a state that was neither very rich nor very large. Yet the name has become attached to the most admired of all Pahari style pictures, and deservedly so. Sometime after 1650 an unknown painter (or group of painters) at Basohli created an exhilarating new style of painting, seemingly to depict the splendour and magnificence of the Great Goddess (P4). The style was also appropriate for themes related to love (P5), not of the sentimental kind, but that which is forthright in ardour and intense in passion. What is perhaps most admired in the Basohli style, which flourished at other centres such as Mankot, Kulu and Nurpur but with varying degrees of expressiveness and reflecting notable stylistic differences due either to individual artists or to local taste, are its forceful and impassioned use of bright colours and its assertive female forms. Critics often characterize both by using the words "savage" or "barbarous", but it must be remembered that there is nothing crude or inelegant about either the colouring or the women. On the contrary, the "suavely burnished surfaces" of early Basohli style pictures reveal greater sophistication and brilliance than early Mewar or Malwa paintings where there was also a similar emphasis on bold and pure colours, but with less intensity. The background in Basholi style pictures was usually rendered in an ardent monochrome, with a slight strip of gray, sometime streaked in white (P4, P5, P7), to indicate a sky. Even though a wide variety of hues, such as green (P7, P14), chocolatebrown (P4), black and purple (P9) were employed, the favourites were hot yellows (P2, P6, P11) or fiery oranges (P5). The dazzling effect was further enhanced by the applications of beetle wings of shining emerald that provided an interesting texture to the surface (P4, P5). There was also an immense fondness for pearls and tassels which were rendered almost in an "impasto" technique.

The women in Basohli style pictures are endowed with an almost arrogant quality that certainly introduces a new element in the conception of feminine beauty in Indian art. Basohli women, whether in the form of the goddesses (P2, P4, P7), or of a heroine (P5), are indeed heroic figures who are totally self-confident and yet desirable. It may be pointed out that women in the hills are generally much more assertive and forthright than those in the plains, and anyone who has lived in the Himalayas knows that they can look a man in the eye with unabashed candour. Whoever was responsible for creating this type of feminine ideal was, at least in part, expressing the frank and unaffected nature of the Pahari women.

Be that as it may, we must not forget that even if we do not know the artist responsible for creating this scintillating and arresting style, we can assume that he was both inventive and self-assured and may, in fact, have consciously reacted against the Mughal style, which he probably found unsuitable for the subjects he had to depict. If, as seems likely, the style emerged at the Basholi court, the patron would have been Sangram Pal (r. 1635-1673; see P14), since the earliest pictures are attributed to his reign. Sangram Pal was a heroic figure of compelling physical presence. We do know that he was the victor of twenty-two battles and the master of twenty-two wives; but it is not known whether he was interested in painting, although this is not unlikely since he was in close touch with the Mughals. However, we do know that his successor Kirpal Pal (P15) was a patron of the arts and a man of letters. He commissioned a Rasamanjari series from an artist called Devidasa who was from Nurpur and who styled himself "well-versed in the art of painting". There seems no reason why Devidasa could not have painted for Sangram Pal as well and may possibly have been the creator of this exciting and luxuriant style which has been characterized as "hot as Indian curry". ⁶⁴

Scholars have frequently expressed surprise at the sudden appearance of the Basohli style and the fact that even at its first appearance it was, to use Archer's phrase, "at the very acme of its brilliance". However, it is debatable whether every style must have its shaky and primitive beginnings. Styles of art often take unexpected leaps that are usually inexplicable, unless we attribute them to the genius of an individual artist, as must have been the case for the creation of the Basohli style, and, as we shall see later, for a second new style that appeared in the hills in the next century. The painter who created the Basohli style was very much aware of the Mughal style, as is evident from the preoccupation with sartorial elegance, the exquisitely detailed rendering of dresses, jewels, carpets and architectural designs, the smooth and brilliant finish of the colours, and the use of certain pictorial devices in delineating the foreground and rocks. But, as if by intention, the style avoids the Mughal concern for perspective, observation of facts, psychological insight and naturalism (except to a limited extent in portraits). Emotion is depicted not through the facial expressions of the figures, but, as we saw with the Rajput pictures of the plains, through ritualized gestures, forms of nature and vehemence of colours. Trees, rocks, water, animals and birds are employed symbolically and to produce an interesting visual design, as was done by Indian artists for generations.

The simplified compositions and strong colouring applied in bold juxtapositions were also characteristics of sixteenth and early seventeenth century Rajput paintings in general. However, the Basohli painter avoided his Rajput colleague's obsession with the ubiquitous red and considerably expanded his palette for the backgrounds, even though he continued to use monochromes. Although one may say his Mewar and Malwa counterparts were more audacious and enterprising in their compositions, the Basohli painter was more passionate in his use of colour. There may not be any evidence to prove a historical connection between the courts of Rajasthan and those of the hill states, but it would be wrong to suggest that art needed royal passports to travel from one region to another. Basohli paintings differ from the early seventeenth century paintings of the plains more in the expressiveness of the style and in the intensity of their glowing colours and assertive images than in the essential aesthetic vision.

While Rasamanjari and Ragamala pictures portray a quiet but passionate mood and restrict the artist's repertoire because of their poetic themes, much more varied and dramatic are representations of the Bhagavatapurana, as is evident from a superb example illustrated here (P6). The subject is the destruction of the horse-demon Kesi by Krishna. Almost an identical rendering of the subject may be seen in a more elaborate set of Bhagavata illustrations⁶⁵ attributed to Mankot and dated around 1700. However, even a cursory comparison of the two will make it clear that whether done at Basohli or at Mankot-and the former is more likely-the example illustrated here is considerably more dramatic and forceful. Especially compelling is the delineation of the horse; the violent turn of his head and the flying mane enhance the excitement and ferocity of the combat. Here, indeed, a remarkably perceptive artist has combined the pictographic and the naturalistic modes with great ingenuity. The horse is clearly in the naturalistic Mughal style and symbolizes brute, animal force and physical strength, while the stylized and idealized figure of Krishna, the decorative tree and the monochromatic background remind us that we are witnessing not an earthly combat, but a divine drama enacted in the mythical world.

Variants of the Basohli style with slightly different figurative types and not always with the same intensity and sophistication of colouring or rhythmic richness have been recognized at other Pahari centres such as Mankot, Chamba, Nurpur and Kulu. It has already been mentioned that a scene very similar to the Destruction of Kesi illustrated here also occurs in a Mankot Bhagavata. Similarly, the charming group of Vishnu with his two consorts seated on a lotus (P7) might be attributed by some to Mankot. A slightly later version of the same subject, though without the consorts (P10), shows the continued popularity of the subject with Pahari artists, especially at Kulu. The Goddess seated on a lotus (P11) essentially reflects the Basohli style, though scholars may differ whether it was painted at Basohli or Kulu. One cannot also be certain of the provenance of the Lady with the vina (P8) in which the background has been left uncoloured as was often done in seventeenth century Mughal pictures. And although the lady has a very distinctive face that cannot be easily placed (Mandi is a possibility), the black buck is very similar to that in the more finished and sophisticated Basohli picture of a similar subject (P5). The faces of both ladies express in different ways but with equal effect their wishful longing for their lovers as they communicate their feelings to a black buck.

The early decades of the eighteenth century witnessed a wider diffusion of the Basohli style but in a more diluted version. Apart from revealing stronger physiognomic variations in the different centres (P8-13), the figures, especially of the female, are less assertive, and the bold, extended eyes have achieved a gentler expression. This becomes quite evident if we compare a Vishnu, probably rendered in Nurpur (P9), with the Basohli Vishnu (P7), and the females in the latter with Lakshmi in the Kulu picture (P10), or with the two ladies in the Bilaspur Bhairava Ragini (P13). The colours are less ardent and there is a tendency to use a wider variety of softer and more mellow hues, as is seen not only in the Bilaspur picture but also in the well-known Gitagovinda series of 1730 painted by Manaku at Basohli (P12). Thus, by 1730 once again things were stirring in the hills, and by the middle of the century, a new style was formulated almost as mysteriously as the Basohli style was around 1660.

Throughout the history of Rajput painting, whether in the plains or in the hills, concurrent with the more sophisticated and elegant court manner, there prevailed a lively and spontaneous "folk" idiom for mass consumption, especially at the village level. The quality of a painting, even in an urban situation, must also have depended on the eye as well as the purse of the patron. A comparison of the early Basohli Goddess (P4) and the later representation of a similar image (P11) makes this clear. The former is accomplished, refined and rich; the latter somewhat more cursively rendered, less polished, and even impressionistic in its rendering of the garments and the water, though no less animated. The same is true of the Kulu picture of Vishnu (P10); the god is humorously cockeyed, while Lakshmi more like a village belle who has just brought lunch for her peasant husband.

Whiling Away Eternity

Whether or not Pahari pictures should be attributed to artists' families or to specific centres, there can be little doubt that the earliest examples of the seventeenth century were produced for the courts. Strong Mughal influences would only have been felt at the courts, and significantly, portraits of rulers figure prominently among all schools of the seventeenth century. The two Basohli portraits of Sangram Pal and Kirpal Pal (P14-15), which we have already mentioned, are classic examples of early Pahari portraiture.

The portrait of Sangram Pal (P14) is in fact much finer than almost an identical representation illustrated by Archer⁶⁶ and dated to 1685-90. Obviously this was a popular portrait of the raja and was repeatedly copied. Similarly, Kirpal Pal's portrait (P15) too is a modified version of another in a private collection.⁶⁷ While Sangram Pal is sitting against a bolster with a nosegay, Kirpal pal is busy smoking while a young lady is offering him a cup of wine. Notwithstanding their formal and somewhat rigid posturing, in both pictures the princes appear relaxed and comfortable. Indeed, the Pahari artists preferred to show their princes seated elegantly and either conversing with fellow rulers or courtiers or watching "nautch" girls. Almost invariably, however, they were shown smoking and, as a nineteenth century European visitor to the region stated so expressively, "whiling away eternity". The prince usually sits on a richly delineated carpet on a terrace or on a raised platform, and the models for such representations appear to have been the relaxed portraits of Govardhan (M25-26) rather than the more formal Mughal portraits.

There are some features that the Pahari portraits share with those produced for the courts of the plains, but they also differ notably. Pahari portraits too idealize and glorify the rulers, as is evident from the faces of the two Basohli figures and those of several others illustrated here (P16-19). Even though the faces do reflect particularized features, they are far more romanticized than Mughal portraitures and like those in the plains, no blemishes are registered. The eyes are invariably elongated and have idealized shapes similar to those of the deities (P2, P7). Nevertheless, unlike the Rajput pictures of the plains, generally no halo is provided for the Pahari rulers, so that they appear much more human despite the idealization. This is further reinforced by the more relaxed and intimate nature of these Pahari portraits, although more grand pictures reflecting the power and glory of the courts were produced in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries for Sansar Chand of Kangra. Some of the most sensitive portraits were created for Balawant Singh of Jammu, but these too reflect the intimate scale and elegant simplicity that are the hallmarks of Pahari portraiture.

Some of the most curious Pahari portraits reflecting a distinctive manner were produced for the Mandi court. The portrait of a prince with a falcon (P16) may be regarded as a typical example. Basically, it follows the well-established convention of Pahari portraiture, as seen in the more sophisticated Basohli portraits and in numerous other examples. Typically, the prince in the Mandi example is much larger than the attendants, but instead of smoking, he is admiring falcons with his cohorts. The faces are not as particularized as in the Basohli or Bilaspur portraits and seem to conform to a type. What is unusual about such examples, as is also seen in two others of Sidh Sen (P17, P19), is that the drawing and brushwork are much more free and spontaneous than in portraits of other centres and details are not as carefully executed. Indeed, the rug under the prince and the pattern of the companion's dress are treated impressionistically while the birds and the charming hunting dogs are rendered in a conceptual manner, reminiscent of animals seen in seventeenth century Nepali paintings.

An air of rustic charm and a sort of primitive vigour characterize the early Mandi pictures, as is also the case with early paintings attributed to Kulu. It must, however, be emphasized that such characteristics had little to do with the locality to which the paintings are generally attributed. Kulu may have been a "queer country", as Archer has written, but the town of Mandi is no different fundamentally from any other Pahari town. And, while the "Shangri" Ramayana, painted in Kulu, may reflect the picturesqueness of Kulu landscape and the figures may be more robust and less sophisticated than the Basohli type, the court pictures attributed to Mandi also reveal a manner that is generally characterized as bucolic but coarse, or "crude though pleasing". There is much uncertainty about the origins of the Mandi idiom; both Archer and Skelton link it to Deccani painting.

The other three portraits illustrated here (P17-19) depict the Mandi ruler, Sidh Sen, who was one of a succession of curious rajas. Nearly sixty when he came to the throne in 1684, he was almost a hundred when he died in 1727. Evidently a very large man, he was an ardent devotee of Siva with whom he obviously identified himself. Many of his portraits show him as a wild figure like the god he adored, and in one of the boldest (P17), he is even given four arms. The other two examples are more typical of Pahari portraits where the subject is shown seated impassively and smoking a hookah, though they differ considerably in style. One (P19) is technically more related to the prince with the falcon, but the other (P18) is a paragon of refinement and sophistication and bears comparison with Bilaspur pictures (P3, P13).

It is remarkable how different the raja looks in the three pictures. While in two portraits (P17-18) the painters have obviously idealized their sitter, emphasizing both his impressive physical stature and his eccentric personality, in the third (P19) we have a much more realistic representation where he seems quite human. What is also interesting is that in all three pictures tiny black specks along the strip of white and blue sky are added to indicate a flight of birds. Moreover, in the more refined portrait, a pair of herons and another of parrots, rendered more naturalistically, fly across the sky. This idiosyncratic detail seems to occur only in Mandi pictures in the hills (see also P20). However, this was a popular device in Deccani paintings which is what prompted Skelton to suggest a Deccani connection.

The convention of portraiture established in the mid-seventeenth century in the hills remained valid throughout the history of the tradition, as is evident from two nineteenth century examples (P43, P44). In a third portrait (P45), however, we see a ruler of Patiala, a state in the Panjab plains, displaying the sort of sumptuousness and swagger we encountered in Rajput portraits. And, like his Rajput brothers of the plains, he is also shown as a divine personality and given the radiating halo. What the portrait does demonstrate is that, in some instances, even in the nineteenth century, the quality of craftsmanship was still high and admirable.

Transfiguring Eyes of Love

By 1730 when an artist named Manaku had rendered a beautiful series of Gitagovinda paintings (P12) at Basohli, the 'hot Indian curry had cooled considerably. There is a new delicacy and gentle lyricism in this picture, or for that matter in a Guler picture of Dancing Villagers (P21) or a Nurpur Baramasa folio (P22) that are radically different from the seventeenth century Basohli style. With regard to the Gitagovinda series, Archer has recognized at least two artists, Manaku having been the principal. Be that as it may, Manaku's Gitagovinda, despite its relationship with the earlier Basohli style, displays a "new spirit", to use Archer's phrase.

This new spirit is even more apparent in the Dancing Villagers and the Baramasa. In both compositions, the artists have tried to convey a sense of space within the picture by creating several planes, either with architectural devices or by skillful organization of the figures, and by foreshortening. While Krishna, Radha and the gopis in the Baramasa are still idealized figures, the figurative types have changed considerably. No longer are the women as willfull and impetuous-looking as the Basholi style women, but are given softer faces with more delicate features that give them a gentler personality. The mood of winter is skillfully and economically expressed by the fire and the manner in which the figures have wrapped themselves with shawls. In the Guler picture, the dancers and the musicians are remarkably naturalistic and animated. The freedom and accuracy of their movement, the astonishing sensitivity and expressiveness of their highly individualized faces and the exquisite naturalism of their attire are as uncharacteristic of the Basohli style as they are intrinsic to Mughal aesthetic. Although the master responsible for this painting did not attempt to show the village locality and placed his figures against the ubiquitous red, so favoured by Mewar artists, there is no doubt that in such pictures we are witnessing a very notable deviation from the Basohli style. It is possible that this picture was rendered by Nainsukh, the celebrated Guler artist, before he moved, in the 1740's, to seek the patronage of Balawant Singh of Jammu.

Why, how, where and exactly when this stylistic change occurred, is as mysterious as is the origin of the Basohli style some seventy years before. The prevailing theory is that the changes were affected, if not in Guler around 1725, at least by Guler artists. Manaku of the 1730 Gitagovinda was very likely the brother of Nainsukh and both were the sons of Pandit Seu whose family had migrated to Guler in the previous century. Manaku may have been twenty years old when he left Guler to seek his fortunes in Basohli, which was already well-known as an important centre of painting. Nothing, however, is known of Pandit Seu's personal style, but, if the works by his gifted Sons are any indication, he must have been trained in the Mughal tradition. One can of course raise the question as to why there should have been such a strong and sudden awareness of the Mughal style around 1725 when Mughal artists and paintings had been familiar in the hills for at least a century prior to the emergence of the new style! After all, the earliest Pahari portraits were rendered in a modified Mughal style. The answers to such questions still remain elusive.

Although the new style spread rather rapidly, all artists did not abandon the more pictographic style readily. During most of the eighteenth century Mandi artists continued to paint in their somewhat perfunctory and impressionistic manner. Also, while most other centres preferred Vaishnava subjects, Mandi painters have given us some of the most charming visualizations of Saiva themes (P20, P23). A picture depicting an esoteric form of the Goddess (P20) reflects the simplicity of composition, the impressionistic rendering of the grass in the foreground and the bird-strewn skies, all of which are hallmarks of the manner. Some of the finest delineations of the holy family of Siva occur among Mandi pictures. The example illustrated here (P23) is not quite as strong and rustic as some of the others and reveals a rudimentary use of foreshortening that one encounters in contemporary Guler pictures. Curiously also, the artist has added a curtain above the group, which is unusual for Mandi pictures and is more commonly employed in Nurpur paintings (P22).

As was the case with the Rajput colleagues in the plains, the Pahari artists were highly imaginative in rendering mythological subjects. Dramatic expressiveness was achieved not by heightened realism or by the imitation of nature but by seeking out images of fantasy from the unconscious mind. In a beautiful picture from an Avatar series (P28), an unknown artist has created almost a surrealistic composition with capricious shapes and forms to evoke an appropriate setting for the cosmic drama as the mighty Boar rescues the earth. Or again, in a highly imaginative though graphic representation of the battleground from a Devimahatmya (P27), we encounter the colossal Kali presiding over the cosmic destruction, even as the gods stand and watch with humility and amazement. However, in none of these pictures do the actors or actresses display any emotion, which is for the human rather than the divine realm. That this was so is clearly evident from a Devimahatmya illustration (P25) where Vishnu destroys the demons Madhu and Kaitabha. Vishnu is calm and composed, whether he sits on his serpent couch or engages the demons; the faces of the demons, on the other hand, do display their rage unequivocally. The physical aspects of the drama were less important than its cosmic significance, which was brilliantly expressed by the unknown artist. The setting is the cosmic ocean against which not only the demons, but even the cosmic serpent and the god Vishnu appear as Lilliputian caricatures.

The dramatic difference between the Basohli style and the new manner may best be illustrated by a group of Guler pictures rendered during the second half of the eighteenth century (P29-31). These pictures have a totally different concept of light and space, and nature is skillfully arranged in a landscape of both fact and fantasy. We are now led into the picture by the use of both perspective and multiple planes, whether with architectural or with natural devices. Trees are not simply symbols placed as props in a design but are integral elements in a landscape; and one can discern the value of light through variations in colours, even though shadows are rarely stressed. Nevertheless, although nature is now better observed and one may even be able to recognize some of the topographical features of the various regions, as Archer and others have done, the artists were not interested in simply reproducing the landscape that surrounded them. The Pahari artists, like their counterparts in the plains, were called upon to illustrate poetry, such as the Rasamanjari, the Ramayana, the Gitagovinda, or the Baramasa, or mythologies, such as the Devimahatmya or the Bhagavatapurana, which are highly romanticized in their description of nature. So they were more interested in instilling a romantic flavour and lyrical charm in their landscapes of fantasy than being true to nature.

Whether used symbolically or with topographical probity, natural form in these Pahari paintings, as indeed in all Rajput paintings, have always been used as pictorial devices, not to suggest a particular landscape, but to provide an ideal setting for the glorification of love, both human and divine. As Coomaraswamy stated with such poetic evocation:

Rajput art creates a magic world where all men are heroic, all women are beautiful, passionate and shy, beasts both wild and tame are the friends of man and trees and flowers are conscious of the footsteps of the Bridegroom as he passes by. This magic world is not unreal or fanciful but a world of imagination and eternity, visible to all who do not refuse to see with the transfiguring eyes of love.⁶⁸

Even as we encounter a couple listening to the haunting Meghamallar Ragini as the storm clouds pour down on the distant shore (P30), or a lovesick lady overcome with grief over the absence of her lover (P32), nature is made to empathize with the mood of the occasion. Elsewhere, in a Garhwal picture (P34), the lovers are Krishna and Radha who have taken shelter from the rain below a tree and gaze into each other's eyes with passionate longing, as they do in another beautiful picture while the red sun is about to dive behind the trees (P33). Every natural element in such pictures is employed with subtle grace to reflect the mood of love and symbolize the passion of the lovers. The ubiquitous peacock sits on the wall (P32) or on a tree (P34), sparkling white cranes and golden streaks of lightning enrich the swirling clouds, and trees are brightened with imaginary flowers and with birds that exist only in paradise.

Such emotionally charged landscapes are literally painted poetry meant to express the harmony between man and nature, as is done in the poems that inspired them. In such poetry, as Archer has stated, "Nature was regarded as the great kindler of desire.., sun and moon, warmth and heat, clouds and wind caressed the senses...".⁶⁹ In the Ramayana, when spring arrives and the hero Rama is tortured by the absence of his beloved, he looks at the "shapes of the rich-flowered forests, that shed a rain of flowers, as the clouds shed water", and feels that life has no meaning for him since he cannot see his woman "with the soft-lashed eyes, the lovely hair and gentle speech". The very clouds are said to be "sullied by desire" and are welcomed as much by nature and the farmer as by the lovers. The banana tree "with its cluster of fruit half-grown, soft and pink, drinks as if with cupped hands the heavy rains".

As we look at Pahari pictures, we can see all these symbols and metaphors vividly depicted with imagination and with the "transfiguring eyes of love". The cranes fly gracefully as if to rendezvous with the clouds; the flowers burst wide their bud-clusters; the peacocks linger expectantly; and lovers gaze into each other's desire-filled eyes. As the eyes of Krishna and Radha meet (P33, P34) we are reminded of a fifteenth century Vaishnava poet's eloquent verse expressing Radha's dilemma:

There is a distinct preference in Pahari pictures for verdant rolling hills and gently flowing rivers rather than limpid lakes and pools. Rarely do we encounter fantastic Persian-style rock formations that often rise abruptly to pierce the sky. When they are employed, as in an early Basohli painting (P2) or in an attractive picture from a Ramayana series (P41), their shapes have been considerably softened and they appear less menacing. Indeed, altogether the hills in the Pahari pictures with their rounded shapes, soft, muted colours, and pretty flowering trees exude a quiet, gentle atmosphere in keeping with the subject matter they were expected to portray. Many of these pictorial devices were borrowed, no doubt from Mughal pictures of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century, such as the works of Rai Anup Chattar and other artists of the Muhammad Shah period, but the Pahari artists enriched them further with greater poetic vision and an awareness of the beautiful hills and rivers, meadows and valleys of their own habitat.

As it has already been suggested, this highly evocative and poetic style of Pahari painting, whether we call it Guler or Kangra, dominated the region for almost a century. Notwithstanding the differences, which are apparent only to the specialists, there is a remarkable stylistic homogeneity in the pictures, whether they were produced in Guler, Garhwal (P33-35), Kangra (P36-37, P40) or Hindur (P41), or whether the patron was a Balawant Singh of Jammu, Amrit Pal of Basohli or Sansar Chand of Kangra. If indeed the style originated with the studio of Pandit Seu of Guler, then it was perfected by his son Nainsukh, who worked first for Balawant Singh and then for Amrit Pal. Several of their descendants continued to paint in the same basic style through the early parts of the nineteenth century and one such artist was Gursahai, who was a grandson of Nainsukh.

Around 1800 Gursahai was painting in Guler for the ruler Bhup Singh (1790-1826), as we know from an inscribed painting in the Chandigarh Museum.⁷¹ Two paintings, illustrated here (P30-31), were very likely painted by Gursahai as they are closely related to the Chandigarh picture which shows the ruler with a lady in a pavilion. The male in these two pictures is probably Bhup Singh himself who was evidently a sensualist and a bon vivant. Clearly Gursahai had mastered the new style with its sinuous rhythms, sophisticated though buoyant compositions, cool muted colours and delicate, graceful figures. It is worthwhile stressing, however, that while the women and the prince are idealized figures, the pundit and the courtiers have faces that are rendered with the same sort of expressive characterization that we encountered in the picture of the village dancers done about half a century before and possibly by his grandfather (P21).

The continued vitality of the style may be seen in the several Kangra pictures illustrated here, though they do not introduce new stylistic elements; rather, they reflect a more refined, rarefied and effete version of the Guler style. Indeed, the Guler style, perhaps due to the dispersion of so many Guler artists to the various courts and centres, was so pervasive that only the trained eye can discern the differences between the various local idioms. In any event, the Pahari style enjoyed its last moments of glory under the enlightened patronage of Raja Sansar Chand of Kangra (r. 1775-1823), who, as a contemporary English visitor tells us, had "a large collection of pictures" and who, according to a contemporary historian, "passed his days in great felicity".