VI

vThere was a shudder in her whispering voice.She was shy to frame her words.What has happened tonight to lovely Radha?Now she consents, now she is scared.When asked for love, she closes up her eyes,Eager to reach the ocean of desire.He begs her for a kiss.She turns her mouth awayAnd then, like a night lily, the moon seized her.She felt his touch startling her girdle.She knew her love treasure was being robbed.With her dress she covered up her breasts.The treasure was left uncovered.Vidyapati wonders at the neglected bed.Lovers are busy in each other's arms.(Vidyapati)

There was a shudder in her whispering voice.She was shy to frame her words.What has happened tonight to lovely Radha?Now she consents, now she is scared.When asked for love, she closes up her eyes,Eager to reach the ocean of desire.He begs her for a kiss.She turns her mouth awayAnd then, like a night lily, the moon seized her.She felt his touch startling her girdle.She knew her love treasure was being robbed.With her dress she covered up her breasts.The treasure was left uncovered.Vidyapati wonders at the neglected bed.Lovers are busy in each other's arms.

There was a shudder in her whispering voice.

She was shy to frame her words.

What has happened tonight to lovely Radha?

Now she consents, now she is scared.

When asked for love, she closes up her eyes,

Eager to reach the ocean of desire.

He begs her for a kiss.

She turns her mouth away

And then, like a night lily, the moon seized her.

She felt his touch startling her girdle.

She knew her love treasure was being robbed.

With her dress she covered up her breasts.

The treasure was left uncovered.

Vidyapati wonders at the neglected bed.

Lovers are busy in each other's arms.

(Vidyapati)

viAwake, Radha, awakeCalls the parrot and its loveFor how long must you sleep,Clasped to the heart of your Dark-stone?Listen. The dawn has comeAnd the red shafts of the sunAre making us shudder.(Vidyapati)

Awake, Radha, awakeCalls the parrot and its loveFor how long must you sleep,Clasped to the heart of your Dark-stone?Listen. The dawn has comeAnd the red shafts of the sunAre making us shudder.

Awake, Radha, awake

Calls the parrot and its love

For how long must you sleep,

Clasped to the heart of your Dark-stone?

Listen. The dawn has come

And the red shafts of the sun

Are making us shudder.

(Vidyapati)

viiStartled, the parrot calls.See those young lovers are still asleep.On a bed of tender leavesHis dark figure is lying still.She, the fair one,Looks like a piece of jewelled gold.They have emptied their quivers.All their flower-arrows are discharged,Drowning each other in the joy of love.O lovely Radha, awake.Your friends are going to the temple.Asks Govind Das:Whose business is itTo interrupt the ways of love?(Govind Das)

vii

Startled, the parrot calls.See those young lovers are still asleep.On a bed of tender leavesHis dark figure is lying still.She, the fair one,Looks like a piece of jewelled gold.They have emptied their quivers.All their flower-arrows are discharged,Drowning each other in the joy of love.O lovely Radha, awake.Your friends are going to the temple.Asks Govind Das:Whose business is itTo interrupt the ways of love?

Startled, the parrot calls.

See those young lovers are still asleep.

On a bed of tender leaves

His dark figure is lying still.

She, the fair one,

Looks like a piece of jewelled gold.

They have emptied their quivers.

All their flower-arrows are discharged,

Drowning each other in the joy of love.

O lovely Radha, awake.

Your friends are going to the temple.

Asks Govind Das:

Whose business is it

To interrupt the ways of love?

(Govind Das)

In another kind of poem, Radha and Krishna are themselves made to speak—Krishna, for example, describing his first glimpses of Radha and Radha struggling to evoke in words the ecstasies of their love.

viiiLike stilled lightning her fair face.I saw her by the river,Her hair dressed with jasmine,Plaited like a coiled snake.O friend, I will tell youThe secret of my heart.With her darting glancesAnd gentle smilesShe made me wild with love.Throwing and catching a ball of flowers,She showed me to the fullHer youthful form.Uptilted breastsPeeped from her dress.Her face was brightWith taunting smiles.With anklet bellsHer feet shone red.Says Chandi Das:Will you see her again?(Chandi Das)

viii

Like stilled lightning her fair face.I saw her by the river,Her hair dressed with jasmine,Plaited like a coiled snake.O friend, I will tell youThe secret of my heart.With her darting glancesAnd gentle smilesShe made me wild with love.Throwing and catching a ball of flowers,She showed me to the fullHer youthful form.Uptilted breastsPeeped from her dress.Her face was brightWith taunting smiles.With anklet bellsHer feet shone red.Says Chandi Das:Will you see her again?

Like stilled lightning her fair face.

I saw her by the river,

Her hair dressed with jasmine,

Plaited like a coiled snake.

O friend, I will tell you

The secret of my heart.

With her darting glances

And gentle smiles

She made me wild with love.

Throwing and catching a ball of flowers,

She showed me to the full

Her youthful form.

Uptilted breasts

Peeped from her dress.

Her face was bright

With taunting smiles.

With anklet bells

Her feet shone red.

Says Chandi Das:

Will you see her again?

(Chandi Das)

ixListen, O lovely darling,Cease your anger.I promise by the golden pitchers of your breastsAnd by your necklace-snake,Which now I gather in my hands,If ever I touch anyone but youMay your necklace-snake bite me;And if my words do not ring true,Punish me as I deserve.Bind me in your arms, hit me with your thighs,Choke my heart with your milk-swollen breasts,Lock me day and night in the prison of your heart.(Vidyapati)

Listen, O lovely darling,Cease your anger.I promise by the golden pitchers of your breastsAnd by your necklace-snake,Which now I gather in my hands,If ever I touch anyone but youMay your necklace-snake bite me;And if my words do not ring true,Punish me as I deserve.Bind me in your arms, hit me with your thighs,Choke my heart with your milk-swollen breasts,Lock me day and night in the prison of your heart.

Listen, O lovely darling,

Cease your anger.

I promise by the golden pitchers of your breasts

And by your necklace-snake,

Which now I gather in my hands,

If ever I touch anyone but you

May your necklace-snake bite me;

And if my words do not ring true,

Punish me as I deserve.

Bind me in your arms, hit me with your thighs,

Choke my heart with your milk-swollen breasts,

Lock me day and night in the prison of your heart.

(Vidyapati)

xNever have I seen such love nor heard of it.Even the eyelids' flutterHolds eternity.Clasped to my breasts, you are far from me.I would keep you as a veil close to my face.I shudder with fright when you turn your eyes away,As one body, we spend the night,Sinking in the deeps of delight.As dawn comes, we see with anxious heartsLife desert us.The very thought breaks my heart.Says Chandi Das:O sweet girl, how I understand.(Chandi Das)

Never have I seen such love nor heard of it.Even the eyelids' flutterHolds eternity.Clasped to my breasts, you are far from me.I would keep you as a veil close to my face.I shudder with fright when you turn your eyes away,As one body, we spend the night,Sinking in the deeps of delight.As dawn comes, we see with anxious heartsLife desert us.The very thought breaks my heart.Says Chandi Das:O sweet girl, how I understand.

Never have I seen such love nor heard of it.

Even the eyelids' flutter

Holds eternity.

Clasped to my breasts, you are far from me.

I would keep you as a veil close to my face.

I shudder with fright when you turn your eyes away,

As one body, we spend the night,

Sinking in the deeps of delight.

As dawn comes, we see with anxious hearts

Life desert us.

The very thought breaks my heart.

Says Chandi Das:

O sweet girl, how I understand.

(Chandi Das)

xiO friend, I cannot tell youWhether he was near or far, real or a dream.Like a vine of lightning,As I chained the dark one,I felt a river flooding in my heart.Like a shining moon,I devoured that liquid face.I felt stars shooting around me.The sky fell with my dressLeaving my ravished breasts.I was rocking like the earth.In my storming breathI could hear my ankle-bells,Sounding like bees.Drowned in the last-waters of dissolutionI knew that this was not the end.Says Vidyapati:How can I possibly believe such nonsense?(Vidyapati)

O friend, I cannot tell youWhether he was near or far, real or a dream.Like a vine of lightning,As I chained the dark one,I felt a river flooding in my heart.Like a shining moon,I devoured that liquid face.I felt stars shooting around me.The sky fell with my dressLeaving my ravished breasts.I was rocking like the earth.In my storming breathI could hear my ankle-bells,Sounding like bees.Drowned in the last-waters of dissolutionI knew that this was not the end.Says Vidyapati:How can I possibly believe such nonsense?

O friend, I cannot tell you

Whether he was near or far, real or a dream.

Like a vine of lightning,

As I chained the dark one,

I felt a river flooding in my heart.

Like a shining moon,

I devoured that liquid face.

I felt stars shooting around me.

The sky fell with my dress

Leaving my ravished breasts.

I was rocking like the earth.

In my storming breath

I could hear my ankle-bells,

Sounding like bees.

Drowned in the last-waters of dissolution

I knew that this was not the end.

Says Vidyapati:

How can I possibly believe such nonsense?

(Vidyapati)

[60]

Plate29.

[61]

Plate35.

[62]

Note20.

[63]

Note20.

It is a third development, however, which reveals the insistent attractions of Krishna the divine lover. From about the seventh century onwards Indian thinkers had been fascinated by the great variety of possible romantic experiences. Writers had classified feminine beauty and codified the different situations which might arise in the course of a romance. A woman, for example, would be catalogued according as she was 'one's own, another's or anyone's' and whether she was young, adolescent or adult. Beauties with adult physiques were divided into unmarried and married, while cutting across such divisions was yet another based on the particular circumstances in which a woman might find herself. Such circumstances were normally eight in number—when her husband or lover was on the point of coming and she was ready to receive him; when she was parted from him and was filled with longing; when he was constant and she was thus enjoying the calm happiness of stable love; when, for the time being, she was estranged due to some quarrel or tiff; when she had been deceived; when she had gone to meet her lover but had waited in vain, thereby being jilted; when her husband or lover had gone abroad and she was faced with days of lonely waiting; and finally, when she had left the house and gone to meet him. Ladies in situations such as these were known asnayikasand the text embodying the standard classification was the Sanskrit treatise, theBharatiya Natya Sastra. A similar analysis was made of men—lovers ornayakasbeing sometimes divided into fourteen different types.

Until the fourteenth century, such writings were studies in erotics rather than in literature—the actual situations rather than their literary treatment being the authors' prime concern. During the fourteenth century, however, questions of literary taste began to be discussed and there arose a new type of Sanskrit treatise, showing how different kinds of lover should be treated in poetry and illustrating the correct attitudes by carefully chosen verses. In all these writings the standard of reference was human passion. The lovers of poetry might bear only a slight relation to lovers in real life. Many of the situations envisaged might rarely, if ever, occur. It was sufficient that granted some favourable accident, some chance suspension of normal circumstances, lovers could be imagined as acting in these special ways.

It is out of this critical literature that our new development springs. As vernacular languages were used for poetry, problems of Hindi composition began to dwarf those of Sanskrit. It was necessary to discuss how best to treat eachnayikaandnayakanot only in Sanskrit but in Hindi poetry also, and to meet this situation Keshav Das, the poet of Orchha in Bundelkhand, produced in 1591 hisRasika Priya. Here all the standard situations were once again examined,nayikasandnayakaswere newly distinguished and verses illustrating their appropriate treatments were systematically included. The book differed, however, in two important ways from any of its predecessors. It was written in Hindi, Keshav Das himself supplying both poems and commentary and what was even more significant, thenayakaor lover was portrayed not as any ordinary well-bred young man but as Krishna himself.[64]As a girl waits at the tryst it is not for an ordinary lover but for Krishna that Keshav Das depicts her as longing.

'Is he detained by work? Is he loath to leave his friends? Has he had a quarrel? Is his body uneasy? Is he afraid when he sees the rainy dark? O Krishna, Giver of Bliss, why do you not come?'[65]

As a girl waits by her bed looking out through her door, it is the prospect of Krishna's arrival—not of an ordinary lover's—that makes her happy.

'As she runs, her blue dress hides her limbs. She hears the wind ruffling the trees and the birds shifting in the night. She thinks it must be he. How she longs for love, watching for Krishna like a bird in a cage.'

When the lover arrives at dawn, having failed to come in the night, the girl (anothernayika, 'one who has been deceived') upbraidsKrishna for wandering about like a crow, picking up worthless grains of rice, wasting his hours in bad company and ruining houses by squatting in them like an owl.

Similarly when a married girl sits longing for her husband's return, her companion comments not on an ordinary husband's conduct but on that of Krishna. 'He said he would not be long. "I shall be back," he said, "as soon as I have had my meal." But now it is hours since he went. Why does he sit beside them and no one urge him to go? Does he know that her eyes are wet with tears, that she is crying her heart out because he does not come?'

Krishna, in fact, is here regarded as resuming in himself all possible romantic experiences. He is no longer merely the cowherd lover or the hero prince, the central figure of a sacred narrative. Neither is he merely or only the lover of Radha. He is deemed to know love from every angle and thus to sanctify all modes of passionate behaviour. He is love itself.

Such a development concludes the varied phases through which the character of Krishna has passed. The cowherd lover supersedes the hero prince. Radha becomes all in all, yet touches of Krishna's princely majesty remain throughout. Even as a cowherd Krishna shows an elegance and poise which betrays his different origin. And in theRasika Priyait is once again his courtly aura which determines his new role. A blend of prince and cowherd, Krishna ousts from poetry the courtly lovers who previously had seemed the acme of romance. Adoration of God acquires the grace and charm of courtly loving, passionate sensuality all the refinement and nobility of a spiritual religion. It is out of all these varied texts that the Krishna of Indian painting now emerges.

[64]

Plate28.

[65]

Note21.

Indian pictures of Krishna confront us with a series of difficult problems. The most exalted expressions of the theme are mainly from Kangra, a large Hindu state within the Punjab Hills.[66]It was here that Krishna, the cowherd lover, was most fully celebrated. Pictures were produced in large numbers and the Kangra style with its delicate refinement exactly mirrored the enraptured poetry of the later cult. This painting was due entirely to a particular Kangra ruler, Raja Sansar Chand (1775-1823)—his delight in painting causing him to spare no cost in re-creating the Krishna idyll in exquisite terms. Elsewhere, however, conditions varied. At the end of the sixteenth century, it was not a Hindu but a Muslim ruler who commissioned the greatest illustrations of the story. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Hindu patrons were the rule but in certain states it was junior members of the ruling family rather than the Raja himself who worshipped Krishna. Sometimes it was not the ruling family but members of the merchant community who sponsored the artists and, occasionally, it was even a pious lady or devout princess who served as patron. Such differences of stimulus had vital effects and, as a consequence, while the cult of Krishna came increasingly to enthrall the northern half of India, its expression in art was the reverse of neat and orderly. Where a patron was so imbued with love for Krishna that adoration of the cowherd lover preceded all, the intensity of his feeling itself evoked a new style. There then resulted the Indian equivalent of pictures by El Greco, Grunewald or Altdorfer—paintings in which the artist's own religious emotions were the direct occasion of a new manner. In other cases, the patron might adhere to Krishna, pay him nominal respect or take a moderate pleasure in his story but not evince a burning enthusiasm. In such cases, paintings of Krishna would still be produced but the style would merely repeat existing conventions. The pictures which resulted would then resemble German paintings of the Danube or Cologne schools—pictures in which the artist applied an already mature style to a religious theme but did not originate a fresh mode of expression. Whether thegreatest art resulted from the first or second method was problematical for the outcome depended as much on the nature of the styles as on the artist's powers. In considering Indian pictures of Krishna, then, we must be prepared for sudden fluctuations in expression and abrupt differences of style and quality. Adoration of Krishna was to prove one of the most vital elements in village and courtly life. It was to capture the imagination of Rajput princes and to lead to some of the most intimate revelations of the Indian mind. Yet in art its expression was to hover between the crude and the sensitive, the savage and the exquisite. It was to stimulate some of the most delicate Indian pictures ever painted and, at the same time, some of the most forceful.

The first pictures of Krishna to be painted in India fall within this second category. In about 1450, one version of theGita Govindaand two of theBalagopala Stutiwere produced in Western India.[67]They were doubtless made for middle-class patrons and were executed in Western India for one important reason. Dwarka, the scene of Krishna's life as a prince, and Prabhasa, the scene of the final slaughter, were both in Western India. Both had already become centres of pilgrimage and although Jayadeva had written his great poem far to the East, on the other side of India, pilgrims had brought copies with them while journeying from Bengal on visits to the sites. TheGita Govindaof Jayadeva had become in fact as much a Western Indian text as theBalagopala Stutiof Bilvamangala. With manuscript illustrations being already produced in Western India—but not, so far as we know, elsewhere—it was not unnatural that the first illustrated versions of these poems should be painted here. And it is these circumstances which determined their style. Until the fifteenth century the chief manuscripts illustrated in Western India were Jain scriptures commissioned by members of the merchant community. Jainism had originated in the sixth century B.C. as a parallel movement to Buddhism. It had proved more accommodating to Hinduism, and when Buddhism had collapsed in Western India in the ninth century A.D., Jainism had continued as a local variant of Hinduism proper. Jain manuscripts had at first consisted of long rectangular strips made of palm-leaves on which the scriptures were written in heavy black letters. Each slip was roughly three inches wide and ten long and into the text had been inserted lean diagrammatic paintings either portraying Mahavira, the founder of the cult, or illustrating episodes in his earthly career.

About 1400, palm-leaf was superseded by paper and from then onwards manuscripts were given slightly larger pages. Owing partly to their association with the same religious order and partly to their constant duplication, Jain manuscripts had early conformed to a certain rigid type. The painting was marked by lean and wiry outlines, brilliant red and blue and above all by an air of savage ferocity expressed through the idiom of faces shown three-quarter view with the farther eye detached and projecting into space. This style was exercised almost exclusively on Jain subjects and in the year 1400 it was the main style of painting in Western India and Raj as than.

During the fifteenth century, this exclusive character gradually weakened. There arose the idea that besides Jain scriptures, secular poetry might also be illustrated and along with the growing devotion to Krishna as God came the demand for illustrated versions of Krishna texts. The three texts we have just mentioned are due to this tendency. All three are illustrated in the prevailing Jain style with its spiky angular idioms and all three have the same somewhat sinister air of barbarous frenzy. At the same time, all disclose a partial loosening of the rigid wiry convention, a more boisterous rhythm and a slightly softer treatment of trees and animals; and, although no very close correlation is possible, the theme itself may well have helped to precipitate these important changes.

Between 1450 and 1575, Western Indian painting continued to focus on Jain themes, adulterated to only a very slight extent by subjects drawn from poetry. It is possible that the Krishna story was also illustrated, but no examples have survived; and it is not until the very end of the sixteenth century that the Krishna theme again appears in painting and then in two distinct forms. The first is represented by a group of three manuscripts—two of them dated respectively 1598[68]and 1610[69]and consisting of the tenth book of theBhagavata Purana, the third being yet another illustration of theGita Govinda[70]. All three sets of illustrations are in a closely similar style—a style which, while possessing roots in Jain painting is now considerably laxer and more sprawling. The faces are no longer shown three-quarter view, the detached obtruding eye has gone and in place of the early sharpness there is now a certainslovenly crudity. We do not know for whom these manuscripts were made nor even in what particular part of Western India or Rajasthan they were executed. They were clearly not produced in any great centre of painting and can hardly have been commissioned by a prince or merchant of much aesthetic sensibility. They prove, however, that a demand for illustrated versions of the Krishna story was persisting and suggest that even prosperous traders may perhaps have acted as patrons.

The second type is obviously the product of far more sophisticated influences. It is once again a copy of theGita Govindaand was probably executed in about 1590 in or near Jaunpur in Eastern India. As early as 1465, a manuscript of the leading Jain scripture, theKalpasutra, had been executed at Jaunpur for a wealthy merchant.[71]Its style was basically Western Indian, yet being executed in an area so far to the east, it also possessed certain novelties of manner. The heads were more squarely shaped, the eyes larger in proportion to the face, the ladies' drapery fanning out in great angular swirls. The bodies' contours were also delineated with exquisitely sharp precision. The court at the time was that of Hussain Shah, a member of the marauding Muslim dynasties which since the twelfth century had enveloped Northern India; and it is possibly due to persistent Muslim influence that painting revived in the last two decades of the sixteenth century. Illustrated versions of passionate love poetry were executed[72]and as part of the same vogue for poetic romance, theGita Govindamay once again have been illustrated.[73]Between the style of these later pictures and that of the Jain text of 1465, there are such clear affinities that the same local tradition is obviously responsible. Yet the new group of paintings has a distinctive elegance all its own. As in the previous group, the detached projecting eye has gone. Each situation is treated with a slashing boldness. There is no longer a sense of cramping detail and the flat red backgrounds of Western Indian painting infuse the settings with hot passion. But it is the treatment of the feminine form which charges the pictures with sophisticated charm. The large breasts, the sweeping dip in the back, the proud curve of the haunches, the agitated jutting-out of the skirts, all these convey an air of vivid sensual charm. That Radha and Krishna should be portrayed in so civilized a manner is evidence of the powerwhich the Krishna story had come to exercise on courtly minds. Krishna is portrayed not as God but as the most elegant of lovers, Radha and the cowgirls as the very embodiment of fashionable women.

Jaunpur painting does not seem to have survived the sixteenth century and for our next illustrations of the theme, we must turn to the school of painting fostered by the Mughals. During the sixteenth century at least three Muslim states other than Jaunpur itself had possessed schools of painting—Malwa in Central India and Bijapur and Ahmadnagar in the Deccan. Their styles can best be regarded as Indian offshoots of a Persian mode of painting which was current in the Persian province of Shiraz in about the year 1500. In this style, known as Turkman, the flat figures of previous Persian painting were set in landscapes of rich and glowing herbage, plants and trees being rendered with wild and primitive vigour. In each case the style was probably brought to India by Persian artists who communicated it to Indian painters or themselves adjusted it to local conditions. And it is this process which was repeated but on an altogether grander scale by the Muslim dynasty of the Mughals. Under the emperor Akbar (1556-1605), the Mughals absorbed the greater part of Northern India, concentrating in one imperial court more power and wealth than had probably been amassed at any previous time in India. Among Akbar's cultural institutions was a great imperial library for which a colony of artists was employed in illustrating manuscripts in Persian. The founders of this colony were Persian and it is once again a local style of Persian painting which forms the starting point. This style is no longer the Turkman style of Shiraz but a later style—a local version of Safavid painting as current in Khurasan. With its lively and delicate naturalism it not only corresponded to certain predilections of the emperor Akbar himself, but seems also to have appealed to Indian artists recruited to the colony. Its representational finesse made it an ideal medium for transcribing the Indian scene and the appearance at the court of European miniatures, themselves highly naturalistic, stimulated this character still further. The result was the sudden rise in India, between 1570 and 1605, of a huge new school of painting, exquisitely representational in manner and committed to a new kind of Indian naturalism. Such a school, the creation of an alien Muslim dynasty, would at first sight seem unlikely to produce illustrations of Hindu religion. Its main function was to illustrate works of literature, science and contemporary history—a function which resulted in such grandioseproductions as theAkbarnamaor Annals of Akbar, now preserved in the Victoria and Albert Museum.[74]None the less there are two ways in which Mughal painting, as developed under Akbar, contributed to the Krishna story. Akbar, although a Muslim by birth, was keenly interested in all religions and in his dealings with the Rajputs had shown himself markedly tolerant. He desired to minimise the hatred of Muslims for Hindus and believing it to arise from mutual ignorance, ordained that certain Hindu texts should be translated into Persian and thus rendered more accessible. The texts chosen were the two epics, theRamayanaand theMahabharata, and of these Persian abridgements were duly prepared. The abridgement of theMahabharata, known as theRazmnama, was probably completed in 1588 but illustrated copies, including the great folios now in the palace library at Jaipur, were probably not completed before 1595. As part of the project, its appendix, theHarivansawas also summarized and a separate volume with fourteen illustrations all concerned with Krishna is part of the great version now at Jaipur.[75]In these illustrations, it is Krishna the prince who is chiefly shown, all the pictures illustrating his career after he has left the cowherds. There is no attempt to stress his romantic qualities or to present him as a lover. He appears rather as the great fighter, the slayer of demons. Such a portrayal is what we might perhaps expect from a Mughal edition. None the less the paintings are remarkable interpretations, investing Krishna with an air of effortless composure, and exalting his princely grace. The style is notable for its use of smoothly flowing outlines and gentle shading, and although there is no direct connection, it is these characteristics which were later to be embodied in the Hindu art of the Punjab Hills.

Such interest by the Emperor may well have spurred Hindu members of the court to have other texts illustrated for, ten to fifteen years later, in perhaps 1615, a manuscript of theGita Govindawas produced, its illustrations possessing a certain fairy-like refinement.[76]Krishna in a flowing dhoti wanders in meadows gay with feathered trees while Radha and her confidante appear in Mughal garb. Romance is hardly evident for it is the scene itself with its rustic prettiness which is chiefly stressed. Yet the patron by whom this version was commissioned may well have felt that it was sensitivelyrendered and within its minor compass expressed to some extent the magical enchantment distilled by the verses. That the Emperor's stimulus survived his death is plain; for in about the year 1620, two manuscripts of theBhagavata Puranaappeared—both in a style of awkward crudity in which the idioms of Akbar's school of artists were consciously aped.[77]The manuscripts in question are at Bikaner and it is possible that one or two inferior Mughal artists, deprived of work at the central court, travelled out to this northerly Rajput state, daring the desert, and there produced these vapid works. It is likely that in the early years of the seventeenth century, many areas of India possessed no artists whatsoever and if a Hindu ruler was to copy Mughal fashion, the only artists available to him might be those of an inferior rank. And although exact data are wanting, such circumstances may well explain another document of Krishna, the first illustrated version of Keshav Das'sRasika Priya.[78]As we have seen, this poem was composed at Orchha in Bundelkhand in 1591, at a time when both poet and court were in close association with Akbar. Yet the version in question shows the same poverty-stricken manner with its crude aping of imperial idioms and utter lack of sensitive expression. There is no evidence that at this time Bundelkhand possessed its own school of painting and in consequence the most likely explanation is that yet another inferior artist trained in the early Mughal manner, migrated to the court and there produced this crude prosaic version. In none of these provincial Mughal pictures is there any feeling for Krishna as God or even as a character. The figures have a wooden doll-like stiffness, parodying by their evident jerkiness the exquisite emotions intended by the poet and we can only assume that impressed by the imperial example minor rulers or nobles encouraged struggling practitioners but in an atmosphere far removed from that of the great emperor.

Such paintings in a broken-down Akbari manner characterize the period 1615 to 1630. From then onwards Mughal painting, as it developed under the emperor Shah Jahan, concentrated on more courtly themes. The early interest in dramatic action disappeared and the demand for costly manuscripts, sumptuously illustrated, withered up. Under Aurangzeb, tolerant understanding gave way to a vicious proselytism and it was only in remote centres such as Bikaner that later Mughal artists exercised their style on Krishna themes. It is significant that at Bikaner their leader was a Muslim, Ruknuddin, and that his chief work was a series of pictures illustrating theRasika Priya.[79]His figures have a shallow prettiness of manner, stamping them once again as products of a style which, in its earliest phases, was admirably suited to recording dramatic action but which had little relevance to either religion or romance. For these a more poetic and symbolic manner was necessary and such a style appeared in the city of Udaipur in the Rajput State of Mewar.

Painting at Udaipur is inseparably associated with the influence of two great rulers—Rana Jagat Singh (1628-1652) and Rana Raj Singh (1652-1681) As early as 1605 pictures had been produced at the State's former capital, Chawand—the artist being a Muhammadan named Nasiruddin. His style was obviously quite independent of any Mughal influence and it is rather to the separate tradition of painting which had grown up in Malwa that we must look for its salient qualities—a tensely rhythmical line, a flamboyant use of strong emphatic colours, vigorous simplifications and boldly primitive idioms for plants and trees. It is this style which thirty or forty years later comes to luxuriant maturity in a series of illustrations executed at Udaipur.[80]Although the artists responsible included a Muslim, Shahabaddin, and a Hindu, Manohar, it is the Krishna theme itself which seems to have evoked this marvellous efflorescence. Rana Jagat Singh was clearly a devout worshipper whose faithful adhesion to Rajput standards found exhilarating compensations in Krishna's role as lover. Keshav Das'sRasika Priyaachieved the greatest popularity at his court—its blend of reverent devotion and ecstatic passion fulfilling some of the deepest Rajput needs. Between the years 1645 and 1660 there accordingly occurred a systematic production not only of pictures illustrating this great poetic text but of the various books in theBhagavata Puranamost closely connected with Krishna's career. Krishna is shown as a Rajput princeling dressed in fashionable garb, threading his way among the cowgirls, pursuing his amorous inclinations and practising with artless guile the seductive graces of a courtly lover. Each picture has a passionate intensity—its rich browns and reds, greens and blues endowing its characters with glowing fervour, while Krishna and the cowgirls, with their sharp robust forms and great intent eyes, display a brusque vitality and an eager rapturous vigour. A certain simplification of structure—each picture possessing one or more rectangular compartments—enhances this effect while the addition of swirlingtrees studded with flowers imbues each wild encounter with a surging vegetative rhythm. Krishna is no longer the tepid well-groomed youth of Mughal tradition, but a vigorous Rajput noble expressing with decorous vehemence all the violent longings denied expression by the Rajput moral code. Such pictures have a lyrical splendour, a certain wild elation quite distinct from previous Indian painting and we can only explain these new stylistic qualities by reference to the cult of Krishna himself. The realization that Krishna was adorable, that his practice of romantic love was a sublime revelation of Godhead and that in his worship lay release is the motive force behind these pictures and the result is a new style transcending in its rhythmical assurance and glowing ardour all previous achievements.

Such an outburst of painting could hardly leave other areas unaffected and in the closing quarter of the seventeenth century, not only Bundi, the Rajput State immediately adjoining Udaipur to the east, but Malwa, the wild hilly area farther south east, witnessed a renaissance of painting. At Bundi, the style was obviously a direct development from that of Udaipur itself—the idioms for human figures and faces as well as the glowing colours being clearly based on Udaipur originals. At the same time, a kind of sumptuous luxuriance, a predilection for greens and oranges in brilliant juxtaposition, a delight in natural profusion and the use of recessions, shading and round volumes give each picture a distinctive aura.[81]In Malwa, on the other hand, the earlier tradition seems to have undergone a new resuscitation. Following various wars in Middle India, the former Muslim kingdom had been divided into fiefs—some being awarded to Rajput nobles of loyalty and valour. The result was yet another style of painting—comparable in certain ways to that of Bundi and Udaipur yet markedly original in its total effect. In place of tightly geometrical compositions, Malwa artists preferred a more fluid grouping, their straining luxuriant trees blending with swaying creepers to create a soft meandering rhythm and only the human figures, with their sharply cut veils and taut intense faces, expressing the prevailing cult of frenzied passion.[82]Such schools of painting reflected the Rajput need for passionate romance rather than any specially strong adhesion to Krishna, the divine lover. Although one copy of theRasika Priyaand one of theBhagavata Puranawere executed at both these centres, their chief subjects were theragasandraginis(the thirty-six modesof Indian music)nayakasandnayikas(the ideal lovers) andbarahmasas(the twelve months) while in the case of Malwa, there was the added theme of Sanskrit love-poetry. Krishna the god was rarely celebrated and it was rather as 'the best of lovers' that he was sometimes introduced into pictures. In a Bundi series depicting the twelve months, courtly lovers are shown sitting in a balcony watching a series of rustic incidents proceeding below. The lover, however, is not an ordinary prince but Krishna himself, his blue skin and royal halo leaving no possible doubt as to his real identity.[83]Similarly in paintings illustrating the character and personality of musical modes, Krishna was often introduced as the perfect embodiment of passionate loving. None of the poems accompanying the modes make any allusion to him. Indeed, their prime purpose is to woo the presiding genius of the melody and suggest the visual scene most likely to evoke its spirit. The musical mode,Bhairava Raga, for example, was actually associated with Siva, yet because the character of the music suggested furious passion the central figure of the lover dallying with a lady was depicted as Krishna.[84]InHindola Raga, a mode connected with swinging, a similar result ensued. Swinging in Indian sentiment was normally associated with the rains and these in turn evoked 'memory and desire.' The character of the music was therefore visualized as that of a young prince swinging in the rain—his very movements symbolizing the act of love. Since Krishna, however, was the perfect lover, nothing was easier than to portrayHindola Ragaas Krishna himself.Hindolamight be invoked in the poem, but it was Krishna who appeared seated on the swing.[85]An exactly similar process occurred in the case ofMegh Mallar Raga. This was connected with the rainy season, yet because rain and storm were symbolic of sex,Megh Mallarwas portrayed not as a separate figure, but as Krishna once again dancing in the rain with ladies accompanying him. Even feminine modes of music suffered the same kind of transformation.Vasanta Ragini, 'the music of springtime,' was normally apostrophized as a lovely lady, yet because springtime suggested lovers, she was shown in painting as if she were Krishna dancing with a vase of flowers, holding a wand in his hand or celebrating the spring fertility festival. The mode,Pancham Ragini, was also feminine in character and was conceived of as a beauty enjoying her lover's advances. The lady herself was portrayed, yet once again Krishna was introduced, this time as her lover. In all these cases the celebration of Krishna was incidental to the main theme and only in one instance—a MalwaRasika Priya—isthere a trace of undisguised adoration. In this lovely series,[86]Krishna's enchantment is perfectly suggested by the flowering trees which wave above him, the style acquiring an even more intense lyricism on account of its divine subject.

During the eighteenth century, painting in Rajasthan became increasingly secular, even artists of Udaipur devoting themselves almost exclusively to scenes of court life. The Ranas and the Mewar nobility were depicted hunting in the local landscape, watching elephant fights or moving in procession. Similar fashions prevailed in Jodhpur, Jaisalmer, Bikaner, Bundi and Kotah. Only, in fact, in two Rajasthan States and then for only brief periods was there any major celebration of the Krishna theme. At Kishangarh, a small State midway between Ajmer and Jaipur, a series of intensely poetic paintings were produced between the years 1750 and 1760—the prime stimulus being the delight of Raja Sawant Singh in Krishna's romance.[87]Born in 1699, Sawant Singh had ascended the throne in 1748 and given all his time to three activities, the rapturous re-living of Krishna's romance with Radha, the composition of ecstatic poems and the daily worship of Krishna as lover god. So great was his devotion that in 1757 he abandoned the throne and taking with him his favourite maid of honour, the beautiful poetess, Bani Thani, retired to Brindaban where he died in 1764. Sawant Singh's delight seems to have been shared by a local artist, Nihal Chand, for under the Raja's direction he produced a number of pictures in which Radha and Krishna sustained the leading roles. The pictures were mainly illustrations of Sawant Singh's own poems—the lovers being portrayed at moments of blissful wonder, drifting on a lake in a scarlet boat, watching fireworks cascading down the sky or gently dallying in a marble pavilion.

Here is Love's enchanted zoneHere Time and the Firmament stand stillHere the Bride and BridegroomNever can grow old.Here the fountains never cease to playAnd the night is ever young.[88]

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.[88]

Nihal Chand's style was eminently fitted to express this mood of sensitive adoration. Originally trained in the later Mughal style, he was able to render appearances with exquisite delicacy but wasalso acutely aware of rhythmical elegance. And it is this which constantly characterized his work, his greatest achievement being the creation of a local manner for portraying Radha and Krishna.[89]Radha was endowed with great arched eyebrows and long eyes—the end of the eye being tilted so as to join the downward sweeping line of the eyebrow while Krishna was given a slender receding forehead and narrow waist. Each was made to seem the acme of elegance and the result was a conception of Krishna and his love as the very embodiment of aristocratic breeding.

The same sense of aristocratic loveliness is conveyed by a scene of dancing figures almost life size in the palace library at Jaipur.[90]Painted under Raja Pratap Singh (1779-1803) the picture shows ladies of the palace impersonating Radha and Krishna dancing together attended by girl musicians.[91]Against a pale green background, the figures, dressed in greenish yellow, pale greyish blue and the purest white, posture with calm assured grace, while the pure tones and exquisite line-work invest the scene with gay and luminous clarity. We do not know the circumstances in which this great picture was painted but the existence of another large-scale picture portraying the circular dance—the lines of cowgirls revolving like flowers, with Radha and Krishna swaying in their midst—suggests that the Krishna theme had once again inflamed a Rajput ruler's imagination.[92]

Such groups of paintings are, at most, exquisite exceptions and it is rather in the Rajput states of the Punjab Hills—an area remote and quite distinct from Rajasthan—that the theme of Krishna the divine lover received its most enraptured expression in the eighteenth century. Until the second half of the seventeenth century this stretch of country bordering the Western Himalayas seems to have had no kind of painting whatsoever. In 1678, however, Raja Kirpal Pal inherited the tiny state of Basohli and almost immediately a new artistic urge became apparent. Pictures were produced on a scale comparable to that of Udaipur thirty years earlier and at the same time a local style of great emotional intensity makes its sudden appearance.[93]This new Basohli style, with its flat planes of brilliant green, brown, red, blue and orange, its savage profiles and greatintense eyes has obvious connections with Udaipur paintings of the 1650-60 period. And although exact historical proof is still wanting, the most likely explanation is that under Rana Raj Singh some Udaipur artists were persuaded to migrate to Basohli. We know that Rajput rulers in the Punjab Hills were often connected by marriage with Rajput families in Rajasthan and it is therefore possible that during a visit to Udaipur, Raja Kirpal Pal recruited his atelier. Udaipur painting, however, can hardly have been the only source for even in its earliest examples Basohli painting has a smooth polish, a savage sophistication and a command of shading which suggests the influence of the Mughal style of Delhi. We must assume, in fact, a series of influences determined to a great extent by Raja Kirpal Pal's political contacts, his private journeys and individual taste, but perhaps above all by an urge to express his feelings for Krishna in a novel and personal manner. The result is not only a new style but a special choice of subject-matter. TheRasika Priyaand theBhagavata Purana, the texts so greatly favoured at Udaipur, were discarded and in their place Basohli artists produced a series of isolated scenes from Krishna's life—the child Krishna stealing butter,[94]Krishna the gallant robbing the cowgirls or exacting toll, Krishna extinguishing the forest-fire,[95]Krishna the violent lover devouring Radha with hungry eyes. Their greatest achievements, however, were two versions of Bhanu Datta'sRasamanjari, one of them completed in 1695,[96]shortly after Raja Kirpal Pal's death, the other almost certainly fifteen years earlier.[97]The text in question is a treatise on poetics illustrating how romantic situations should best be treated in Sanskrit poetry—the conduct of mature mistresses, experienced lovers, sly go-betweens, clowns or jokers being all subjected to analysis.[98]The subject of the text is secular romantic poetry and Krishna himself is never mentioned. None the less, in producing their illustrations, the artists made Krishna the central figure and we can only conclude that eschewing the obviousRasika Priya, Raja Kirpal Pal had directed his artists to do for Sanskrit what Keshav Das had done for Hindi poetry—to celebrate Krishna as the most varied and skilled of lovers and as a corollary show him in a whole variety of romantic and poetic situations. As a result Krishna was portrayed in a number of highly conflicting roles—as husband, rake, seducer, paramour and gallant.

In one picture he is 'a gallant whose word cannot be trusted' and we see him in the act of delicately disengaging a lady's dress and gazing at her with passion-haunted eyes. The poem on the reverse runs as follows:

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