The spectral presence of goddess Kali pervades DAG’s flagship gallery in Mumbai’s Taj Mahal Palace hotel. The exhibition, “Kali: Reverence & Rebellion” (August 25-October 19), organised by DAG there, is all about the fiery goddess as imagined by artists from the 5th to the 20th centuries. Curated by Gayatri Sinha, the show is a staggering achievement, which says as much about Kali as about the artists inspired by her iconography.
The exhibition, which had its first outing in Delhi earlier this year, comprises sculptures, figurines, 19th century Bengal patas (scroll paintings/prints) and oils, as well as miniatures and glass paintings. The gallery is divided into three colour-coded sections, each denoting a timeline and a theme. For instance, the yellow section, with which the exhibition begins, showcases the different avatars of the goddess as found in religious iconography; the next section, with deep red walls, presents Kali as imagined by popular art and Kalighat pata paintings; the last section, marked by maroon, includes modernist representations of Kali by 20th century masters like Nirode Mazumdar, M. Reddeppa Naidu, and K.G. Subramanyan.
“I was happy and grateful to take it up,” Sinha told Frontline. The veteran curator’s excitement stemmed from her interest in Kali and the myriad stories that go beyond the religious. “With all the differences one sees in her representation as compared to that of other more beautiful and passive goddesses, Kali is extremely contemporary. She exemplifies the violence of our times as well as the qualities of motherhood and protection,” Sinha said.
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Kali’s significance to different sets of people—devotees, disenfranchised communities, and artists—guides the layout of the show. While her essence remains the same, she is a symbol whose meaning changes: to her devotees, she is a source of succour; for marginalised groups, she is an empowering presence; for artists, she is an inspiration. As Sinha said: “Kali is a bridge between people, communities, and artists because of her accessibility and the belief that she honours prayers.”
Kali by unidentified artist from Early Bengal School (19th century). Oil on canvas. | Photo Credit: DAG Collection
As we enter the gallery space, our first encounter is with Kali in her Dakshinakali avatar, inaugurating this section titled “Divinity”. Mounted on yellow walls, the huge print shows Kali with her tongue sticking out, standing on Siva’s chest, wearing a garland of human heads, and holding a blood-stained sickle in one hand. With a prominent halo around her head, Kali here is the revered goddess who traces her origin to the 5th century Puranic text, Devi Mahatmyam (Glory of the Goddess). Other iconographic depictions include Kali as Chhinnamasta, with her ferocity remodelled as self-sacrifice as she offers her head to her devotees, and Samshana Kali, a fear-inducing goddess of power associated with Tantrik worship and cremation grounds (samshana).
Kali as a symbol
These two avatars dominate the miniature paintings. A striking miniature shows Kali leading Durga, who is seated on a tiger. What marks it out is the signature—a Persian name, Radha Musavvir—scribbled at the bottom. “It is a fairly rare presence,” said Shatadeep Maitra, Manager of Exhibitions at DAG. Not much is known about the painter except that he/she probably belonged to a community of artists (musavvir roughly translates as maker).
Untitled, by Radha Musavvir, c. 1840. Tempera highlighted with gold pigment on paper. | Photo Credit: DAG Collection
The traditional renderings of Kali from the 16th and 17th centuries segue to the ways in which she is interpreted in colonial and postcolonial times, when she is imbued with a transgressive and rehabilitative power, which is almost secular in nature. “In the last 200 years, a major subcontinental tradition has evolved of Kali being invoked by poets, intellectuals, artists, politicians, people on the fringes like Dalit groups or members of the LGBTQI+ community, and those who want a radical change in their social status or political intent,” Sinha said. As we transition to this phase of Kali devotion, where she is seen more as a symbol than as a goddess, the yellow background gives way to red. Most of the paintings here come with the names of artists, unlike the previous section, for obvious reasons.
It opens with the Western perception of Kali as the goddess of thugs. The Flemish painter Balthazar Solvyns (1760-1824), who lived and worked in India from 1791 to 1803, depicts a scene of immersion where a massive idol of Kali is carried on a boat to mid river by her devotees. The artist’s bias is evident in the way Kali is shown as a near-naked, savage goddess with her worshippers piled up like ants at her feet. “It was the British vilification of Kali that turned a minor goddess into a prominent icon of dramatic change,” Sinha said, drawing attention to the irony. The theme of this section is “Subalternity”, outlining the ways in which Kali was appropriated by various groups of people to emerge as a dominant social force over time.
Kali as an inspiration
Kali’s role as an inspiration in the nationalist movement of India is reiterated in an extraordinary 20th century print from the National Press, Cawnpore, where Subhas Chandra Bose is depicted as Chhinnamasta, holding his severed head as an offering in one hand and clutching a sword in another. The title of the print is Jai Hind, which is written in English at the top and again in Hindi, amidst a splatter of blood at Netaji’s feet.
Jai Hind by unidentified artist (National Press, Cawnpore). Offset print and serigraph on paper, 20th century. | Photo Credit: DAG Collection
Sinha shows how Kali worship is not limited to Bengal alone by exhibiting brass breastplates used in Theyyam, which is performed mostly by people from the Dalit communities in south India. The folk festival combines theatrical excess with the solitude of worship: men with painted faces call upon Kali to possess them as they slip into a trance-like state. “Kali and her avatars are deeply accessible to lower castes and women. She is seen as someone who can bring justice,” Sinha said. The popularity of Kali can also be felt in her ubiquitous presence in calendar art and Kalighat patachitras (originally scroll paintings depicting mythological deities and scenes from everyday life made by artists from the Kalighat area of Kolkata that later evolved into cheaply produced drawings and paintings on the same themes).
Untitled by Satish Gujral (1925–2020), burnt wood, cowrie shells, leather, ceramic beads and cotton cord. | Photo Credit: DAG Collection
Kali as seen by Indian modernist painters offers another shift in gaze. A remarkable sculpture by Satish Gujral from the 1970s is made of burnt wood, cowrie shells, leather, ceramic beads, and cotton cord. Known for his political works, Gujral made a series of such sculptures in burnt wood after the declaration of Emergency in 1975.
M.F. Husain imagines Kali as a voluptuous woman, who rests one hand on her waist while the other holds a flower. One would not have identified the figure as Kali had it not been for the stuck-out tongue. An astonishing Ghulam Rasool Santosh painting has Kali rendered in precise geometric forms while an ingenious work on Durga by Madhvi Parekh marks a confluence of mythology and folk design.
Kali as power
Artworks by Prahlad Karmakar (1900-46), Nirode Mazumdar (1916-82), and Rabin Mondal (1929-2019) are distinctive creations in their own right and, taken together, suggest the way in which the iconography of Kali in Bengal has evolved with individual artists. Karmakar’s painting from 1938 shows Kali puja being performed in a village; the image is at once compliant and subversive in its realism. The focus is on the idol of Dakshinakali, but then the scope of the artist’s gaze broadens to include not just the dhoti-clad bhadralok figures in the foreground but also the common people, including women, in the audience.
Village Kali Puja, oil on canvas, 1938, by Prahlad Karmakar. | Photo Credit: DAG Collection
Mazumdar’s presentation of Kali in the Cubist style brings out her femininity and power. His abstract paintings on Tantric themes gave a wider spin to local myths. In the painting Shodasi Kala, from the 1970s, the goddess Shodasi, a representation of Shakti, is given an agency that she does not usually possess in popular iconography. Conventionally, she is portrayed as a young girl seated on Siva’s lap. Mazumdar enlarges the figure, lending it power, which undercuts the infantilisation. In Mondal’s untitled painting from 1994, Kali is a vital force, representing the powers of the mind. Understandably, the theme of this final section is “Protest”.
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A metal prabhavali, the ornamental arch placed behind idols in temples to suggest a godly aura, graces the entrance to the gallery. One feels, after covering the exhibition, that the prabhavali frames the conservative, competing, and conflicting interpretations of Kali and, in doing so, affirms the intent of the curation: Kali, the goddess of multitudes, is uncontainable.
Maitra described Kali as a “religious figure and a queer icon”, emphasising her significance as a cultural symbol which transcends religious belief. “Kali does not require Brahmanical intervention, wealth, or big pujas in temples. She is imminent and accessible. She is a transgressive goddess who disturbs the status quo and offers relief,” Sinha said.
Ishita Sengupta is an independent film critic and culture writer. Her work is situated at the juncture of gender and pop culture.
