Allah Baksh’s Mahabharata paintings retell a timeless saga

Each image in this resplendent box set reproducing over 5,000 Mewari paintings of the epic from the 17th century is just as fresh and ebullient today.

Adi Parva 74: The wives of Kasyapa gave birth to all the animals, birds, plants, men, and women. | Photo Credit: From ‘The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh’.

In the late 17th century, a lavishly illustrated edition of the Mahabharata was commissioned by Maharana Jai Singh (1653-98) of Mewar. Over 5,000 exquisite paintings were produced in the course of 18 years. Each image is 41 cm by 25 cm and depicts richly detailed scenes of gods and demons, men and women, animals and monsters. Each one is as fresh and ebullient as a viral video of today. Lines of explanatory text, written in Mewari script, run along the upper margin. The name of the artist is Allah Baksh. Little is known about him, except for a single figure with his name painted into the collection.

Centuries would pass. Kingdoms would rise and fall, the British would rule and, in their turn, be thrown out. During all that time, this priceless treasure trove of art would remain safe from the ravages of climate and political mayhem, virtually forgotten, in the vaults of three museums in Rajasthan.

Seven years of labour

And there it would have remained forever if not for Mubarak Hussain, former curator of the Government Museum of the City Palace of Udaipur. In 2017, realising the worth of what was in the vaults, he reached out to Alok Bhalla, distinguished scholar, poet, and translator, and Chandra Prakash Deval, poet, historian, and translator. These two men, together with Bikash Niyogi, publisher-owner of Niyogi Books, Nirmal Kanti Bhattacharjee, editorial director at Niyogi Books, and the photographer Ashok Dilwali, laboured over the past seven years to make this unique collection available to the world’s gaze for the first time ever, in the form of five beautiful books.

The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh, Vol I-IV

By Alok Bhalla and Chandra Prakash Deval

Niyogi Books

Pages: 1994

Price: Rs.8,000

Bound in hardcover, with gilt edges and excellent binding, the Mahabharata is contained in a four-volume boxed set, while the Bhagavad Gita is in a separate volume. The combined price for all five books is a mere Rs.8,000. In other words, a timeless saga told in panels of fine art is available for the fare of a round trip air ticket from Delhi to Mumbai!

The paintings of the Mahabharata collection are presented in pairs, facing one another. The Mewari text that is written into every painting and translated below it in Hindi provides brief summaries of each scene. It is aimed at those who have intimate knowledge of the epic and would not need further elaboration. Bhalla’s English translation is warm and readable, aimed at those whose knowledge of the original is a little sketchy. He provides a general introduction to all four of the volumes, plus brief individual introductions to each of the separate sections into which the great epic poem is organised.

Adi Parva 225: Arjuna added, ‘There is no auspicious or inauspicious time for the sacred river to emerge from the Himalayas. The Ganga flows across the plains before it divides into seven streams which all merge into the sea. That is why the streams are common to all and the pious worship the Ganga, Yamuna, Sarasvati, Vitashtha, Sarayu, Gomati, and Gandaki. The people believe that even the gods worship the Ganga.’  | Photo Credit: From ‘The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh’.

While the introductions provide an excellent overall sense of the narrative, the text beneath each painting makes it possible to follow the action from page to page. But “possible” is not the same thing as “easy”. The books are by no means a type of antique graphic novel, with simplistic hero quests and predictable outcomes. The narrative thread meanders back and forth, in and out of mortal timelines, winding now amongst the gods and now amongst mortals, now amongst animals and demons. There are side stories, parables, and digressions. There is an intense awareness of moral complexity, of utter absorption in the tales of greatness, heroism, and the catastrophe of war.

Distinct shorthand

The first volume concerns the pre-history of the two great clans, the Kauravas and the Pandavas, with one hundred sons and five sons, respectively. The second volume tells us how these two clans, cousins to one another, fell out to become the bitterest of enemies. The third volume is taken up with the many steps that lead up to the conflict, culminating in the fateful battle for which the epic is best known. The fourth volume brings the entire cosmic spectacle to a close.

The box-set covers of ‘The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh’. | Photo Credit: By special arrangement

As with any art form, this one has its own distinct shorthand for conveying ideas. Individual characters are differentiated by dress and hairstyle rather than by facial features. In some scenes, central characters might acquire a glowing halo, and gods or god-like beings float in mid-air in small, crescent-shaped boats. Some gods as well as some humans—Arjuna, for instance—are depicted in a blue so dark as to look almost black. Unlike in today’s comics, the heroes do not sport bulging muscles or rippling abs but are instead somewhat portly, with smooth arms and solid thighs. Both men and women wear gorgeous costumes, but the figures of women conform to an older aesthetic of beauty: bell-shaped rather than hourglass. There are no bulging breasts, tiny waists, and flaring hips. Instead, most women wear tight little blouses, showing a few inches of midriff above a bulbous lower garment, with misty draperies lightly caressing their bodies.

Sabha Parva 10: Once Indraprastha was ready, ten thousand asuras encircled its ramparts to guard it. They were fierce creatures with blazing red eyes, long snouts, pointed ears, and strange bodies. | Photo Credit: From ‘The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh’.

Simultaneous events might be shown in separate sections of the same frame. A character who sets out on a journey might be shown at different stages along the path in the same painting, like a multiple-exposure photographic print.

More than anything else, there is an extraordinary vitality to all the scenes. The bright colours, the textures, and the dynamic layouts are full of movement, rich with what I can only think of as an artist’s delight. Even while depicting scenes of extreme gore, of dismembered limbs and severed heads, of horror, destruction, and unimaginable waste, the attention to detail is remarkable. Anguished elephants sprawl upside down, their eyes wide with panic; heroes lying dead on the battlefield, wearing fine cotton prints.

An illustration showing the people of Pravarana who are described as having “one leg and one eye. Their ears were so long that they could spread them out to cover themselves when they slept” (Vol IV, page 351). | Photo Credit: From ‘The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh’.

The epic is, at its core, a passionate lament about the folly of war caused by human greed and blind ambition. Nevertheless, amidst all that might be dark and despairing, the paintings call out to us across space and time, reminding us of the sounds, scents, tastes, and passions of a vanished era, conjuring all of it with visuals alone.

The sheer volume of figures, structures, and activity in every painting is overwhelming. Every single piece, on its own, provides material for lively interpretation. Even a simple group of elephants (Vol. I, page 90) is dense with meaning. The group of eight huge animals, facing one another, suggests that they are in conversation—we can practically hear their rumbling and trumpeting—and we can sense their greatness in the way they fill the whole space of the composition.

Each figure is an individual, their sinuous trunks coiling this way and that. The fact that they are wearing necklaces of little bells, with their tusks decorated and a double cord tied around their forequarters, tells us clearly that they are not wild. Although there are no other figures, animal or human, near them, we can see that these giant creatures are loved and cared for, perhaps even venerated.

Refreshingly local

The imagery in these paintings is refreshingly local. There are no echoes of Superman-style comic figures or of European notions of divinity, beauty, or beastliness. Hanuman, for instance, is a huge being with golden ochre fur and a long tail but wearing an ascetic’s tight red loincloth. The shape of his head is distinctly simian, yet his attitude of intense self-possession marks him out as divine.

Particularly charming are the countless demons and demigods, most of whom are depicted with animal heads transplanted onto human bodies. All manner of strange and exotic characters are encountered in the course of the many tales of adventure.

Vana Parva 459: Hanuman said, ‘Searching for his wife, Rama came to the mountain where Sugriva was hiding. They became friends. Rama helped Sugriva to regain his kingdom by killing Bali and installing him on the throne. In return, Sugriva sent his army of monkeys in every direction to search for Sita. Supported by an army of a hundred thousand monkeys, I went to look for Sita in the south. On the way, I meet the great vulture, Sampati (Jatayu). He informed me that Ravana had abducted Sita.’ | Photo Credit: From ‘The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh’.

Amongst my favourites are the people of Pravarana, who are described as having “one leg and one eye. Their ears were so long that they could spread them out to cover themselves when they slept” (Vol. IV, page 351).

One drawback of being published in the pages of a book is, of course, that the paintings are reduced to a quarter of their original size. They are high-resolution images and would look spectacular if they were enlarged. For instance, if the paintings on the pages of these books were to be transformed into wall-sized projections, accompanied by a dynamic audio narrative with music and sound effects, it would be a sensational experience. However, the challenge would always be to maintain the philosophical and spiritual foundation of the entire epic, to avoid making it into a cheap good-versus-evil melodrama.

Loving sentiment

The cover of the fourth and final volume gives us a clear understanding of the spirit in which the paintings were made. Ahead of the five Pandavas, we see the image of a jaunty little dog, even as the figure of Draupadi lies lifeless on the earth, beside the brothers. Inside, when we look at the final pages of the book, we see that the dog accompanies the five battle-weary brothers and their shared wife right up the slopes of Mount Meru, towards heaven. The scrawny creature is there in every picture, with his curling tail held high, so similar to the feisty mongrels lurking at every street corner of Indian cities.

Mahaprasthana Parva 12: The dog reveals himself as Dharma. | Photo Credit: From ‘The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh’.

One by one each of the brothers falls lifeless, just like Draupadi. Finally, there is only Yudhishthira and the dog. When the hero is told that only he can sit in Indra’s chariot to be conveyed away to heaven, he says: “I shall not go... unless my brothers, my wife and this dog also find a place with me in heaven. My brothers were my friends, Draupadi was my faithful wife and this dog is my devoted follower.”

On the following page, which is the last one of the entire series, the text tells us that the dog reveals itself to be Dharma. Therefore, he too is acceptable.

Mahaprasthana Parva 10: After a short climb up the mountain path, Nakula fell to the ground, followed by Arjuna. Yudhishthira said that Nakula was vain about his looks and Arjuna was proud of his heroism. A little later, Bhima fell and Yudhishthira told him that he ought not to have boasted about his physical strength. Yudhishthira continued to climb the sacred mountain followed by the dog. | Photo Credit: From ‘The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh’.

On the same page, when Yudhishthira is asked by the rishis who are waiting to receive him in which region of heaven he would like to live, he says: “I would like to be in the region where Draupadi and my brothers reside.”

I smiled with gladness at this response. After all the cataclysmic events, the greatness and baseness, the divine and the demonic actions, this is such a loving and utterly contemporary sentiment. If only the world in which we currently live could reflect this sentiment from four centuries ago, what a miracle that would be.

Manjula Padmanabhan is an author, playwright, artist and cartoonist. Her most recent book is Taxi, a witty, racy novel set in Delhi, about a woman taxi driver.