Allah Baksh’s visual retelling of the Mahabharata, compiled for the first time in four volumes, tells of duty and ethics in luminous detail
Noor Anand Chawla Noor Anand Chawla | 06 Nov, 2023
Bhishma on a bed of arrows waiting for the auspicious moment to die, as both armies cease hostilities for a day to pay homage to their mentor
In India’s storytelling tradition the Mahabharata and the Ramayana stand tall. Scholars from around the world, going as far back in time as the third century BCE, when Megasthenes visited the court of King Chandragupta Maurya as the ambassador of Seleucus Nikator, have recorded it in their writing. Yet, it was rare for these epics to be represented visually or pictorially.
Hence, the discovery of 4,000 intricately painted scrolls depicting the many parvas or books of the Mahabharata in its entirety, in the State Museum of Rajasthan, Udaipur was a fortuitous one. These were painted in the Mewari miniature style of painting by artist Allah Baksh over 18 years, who was commissioned to do so by Maharana Jai Singh of Udaipur. In these works, every scene from the Mahabharata is exhaustively depicted, ruminated upon and illuminated in horizontal scrolls measuring 25 x 41.5 cm in size.
Having remained hidden for centuries, these works never received the limelight they deserved. Fortunately, this has been rectified by the release of four keepsake volumes published by Niyogi Books titled The Mahabharata: Mewari Miniature Paintings (1680–1698) by Allah Baksh (1,994 pages; Rs12,000) documenting nearly 2,000 of these paintings with accompanying translated texts by professors Alok Bhalla and Chandra Prakash Deval.
Described as “a grand visual retelling of the great Indian epic”, these books capture Allah Baksh’s interpretations of Vyasa’s Mahabharata (with one parva from Jaimini’s Mahabharata). During the sifting process, the authors became aware of a distinct division in the paintings. They identified a set of vertical paintings as solely depicting the 700 verses of the Gita and decided to dedicate an entire book to them. The Gita: Mewari Miniature Painting (1680-1698) by Allah Baksh was published in 2019 and became the precursor to these Mahabharata volumes.
The mammoth task of sifting, recording, translating (first from Mewari to Hindi and then to English), and collating the works was undertaken by Bhalla and Deval. They were assisted in their documentation by photographer Ashok Dilwali. However, it was Deval who set the ball rolling.
Padma Shri recipient Chandra Prakash Deval, originally from Udaipur, is an eminent poet, writer, translator, and historian. Owing to his interest in the development of Rajasthani language and literature, he was contacted by the curator of the museum at Udaipur with information on Allah Bakhsh’s paintings. Intrigued by the prospect of recording these beautiful works for posterity, Deval roped in his friend and colleague, Bhalla to help with the project.
As a critic, translator and poet of renown, Bhalla has taught at various universities in the US and India and published many works of note. He harbours a deep interest in India’s epic tradition. It had been his longstanding endeavour to seek out enriching scholarly debates on the Mahabharata that go beyond its discussion of the concept of dharma. Hence, this project appealed to him greatly.
Deval says, “The Mahabharata was translated from Sanskrit to Mewari in order to make it more accessible both to Maharana Jai Singh and his subjects. The translation to concise form in Mewari is truly commendable. This is a Rajasthani Mahabharata painted in the Mewari style; and is therefore a true reflection of Mewari style. A culture that could produce the Mahabharata cannot be a backward culture. The epic also conveys the message of ahimsa, of co-existence with nature and all its creations.”
To this Bhalla adds, “These paintings deserve an honoured place in the history of Indian paintings. When I first caught a glimpse of more than 4,000 magnificent miniature paintings of the Mahabharata and the Gita by Allah Baksh in the State Museum of Rajasthan, Udaipur, I understood what Plutarch meant when he exclaimed, ‘The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire to be kindled.’ Our hope is that readers will find, in these miniature paintings, an exciting dialogue between the verbal and the visual imaginations of the poet and the painter; between the grandeur of Vyasa’s epic and the vision of Allah Baksh who draws upon an endless store of images, designs and colours to offer his own discovery of moral truths in old fables.”
Each weighty gold-edged volume appropriately captures the loftiness of its subject. A detailed essay titled ‘General Introduction to the Mahabharata Paintings’ by the co-authors of the text, lays out the intention behind the preservation of these works. Further, each parva, is introduced separately with a text that offers reflections on the moral lessons the stories within it seek to impart.
Occupying most of a single page, each painting catches the eye with its vibrant colours and painstaking details. A succinct summary follows: first, a Hindi translation of the Mewari text written in the colophons of the paintings, then directly below, comments on the paintings written in English, to help the reader understand the images as well as inferences that may not be clear at once. Throughout, the overall narrative of the epic is kept in mind, even as individual translations and explanations offer more personal insight. To further the narrative, the artist often divides paintings with lines or clouds. This is done to denote the simultaneous progress of two related events, and in some cases, acts as a thought bubble might.
Through this extensive work, the authors highlight the importance of this singular visual depiction of stories from the Mahabharata, as nothing of this scale exists in other artistic traditions from around the country. They also seek to emphasise that Allah Baksh’s unique interpretation of Vyasa’ s epic, posits it less as a work of heroism hailing the pride of following one’s spiritual calling, and more as one deriding the follies of war.
Allah Baksh’s images are charged with symbolism, which is a facet unique to the Mewari school of art. A reliance on the vivacity of the primary colours and their offshoots, along with the depiction of precise and measured figures, often dressed in local Rajasthani garb of the day, are other ways in which the stylistic affiliation of the artist becomes clear. While sticking within his genre, however, the artist experiments with the interpretation of the subject at hand. Hence, themes of morality are expanded upon by deliberately including or removing elements of nature. To denounce the atrocities of war, he paints beautiful creatures of nature in various forms of suffering. Images of deliberation and debate, on the other hand, are depicted through dreary human figures with nary a flower or bird in sight.
“Having looked at these texts, I have concluded that the assumptions we have about our folk and miniature artists are false. One normally assumes that miniature artists or courtly scribes are naïve and illiterate, but I believe they are learned, thinking, imaginative visionaries. Both the miniature artist and the scribe are thinkers in their own right,” says Bhalla. “They are moral thinkers, as they are interpreting the text of the Mahabharata. They are doing so by reading it intensely, thinking about it and then applying the highest form of visionary interpretation to it. Therefore, they should be given the same recognition, respect and honour as we give to a writer. Allah Baksh was very familiar with the text of the Mahabharata, and this monumental work is his vision brought to life.”
Several storylines in each volume present apt examples of this vision. The burning of the Khandava forest in Volume I of the set, is one such. The story begins with a scene where Krishna and Arjuna, relaxing in the forest, are paid a visit by Agni, who is keen to destroy it. As the scene progresses and the fire begins to ruin this natural haven, animals, disturbed by the destruction of their habitat are shown attempting to save their home. Snakes, elephants, monkeys and other creatures, collectively spray the burning trees. The viewer is drawn more to the animals than the fire, which is the focal point of this event in the original work.
In the second volume, Nala and Damayanti’s story is noteworthy. Depicting a romance that blossoms when clandestine messages are exchanged through a swan, this tale has caught the fancy of many an artist in the past. The time to meet her love finally arrives at her swayamwar, when Damayanti must identify the humble Nala from a line-up that includes many gods. In these scenes, the artist’s mastery in painting the innocence and hope of young love, overshadows his depiction of gold-filigreed princely palaces and staid ceremonies. When Damayanti correctly recognises Nala from his dusty feet and garlands him, the act takes place under the shadow of Kama deva (the god of love) hiding in a tree—a symbol of love in the Mewari school of art.
From the Ashram Parva in Volume III, the story of Dhritarashtra, Kunti, Vidura, and Sanjaya renouncing the world and retreating to the forest is also uniquely handled. In the Mahabharata, Vidura and Sanjaya are depicted as moral humans who oppose the concept of war. When they retreat to the ashram in the forest to lead an austere life, Vidura becomes wraith-like. Finally, when Yudhishthira seeks him out in the forest, Vidura’s ghostly form becomes one with Yudhishthira. This scene is imagined in rich detail, with the brown figure of Vidura gaining prominence over the vibrantly coloured characters in the backdrop.
Volume IV is distinctive because the authors believe it contains a parva based on sage Jaimini’s version of the Mahabharata. They base this assumption on the fact that the Ashwamedha Parva in Allah Baksh’s paintings seem to follow Jaimini’s chronological form, as well as its witty and folkloric narrative. However, the most poignant section of Volume IV is at its very end. On their way to heaven, the Pandavas fall by the wayside one by one. Only Yudhishthira makes it to his destination, accompanied by a mangy dog who has been following him and his family the entire way. When the dog is denied entry to the gates of heaven, Yudhishthira refuses to enter as well, knowing that this dog represents his dharma.
To the credit of Allah Baksh, the work stands out both stylistically for its wealth of artistic detail, and for presenting the Mahabharata as a rich moral and cultural text transcending the traditional definition of being a religious sermon. Deval says, “The artist is not changing the understanding of the Mahabharata. He is just interpreting it in his own way. His amazing details seek to show how beautiful and bountiful our world is.”
Bikash De Niyogi, managing director of Niyogi Books summarises the appeal of this monumental project, “Publishing this four-volume compendium for me has been a labour of love, which showcases the richness of Indian culture and craftsmanship. It is the biggest and the longest project taken up by Niyogi Books so far. This is our humble contribution in bringing the Mahabharata to discerning readers.” And for these discerning readers, it is certainly a rare treat.
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