During the twentieth century, a certain type of Indian painting began to
fascinate the West. Unlike Mughal art, it was a product of Hindu courts in
Rajasthan and the Punjab Hills and unlike Mughal painting, its chief
concern was with the varied phases of romance. Ladies would be shown
brooding in their chambers as storm clouds mounted in the sky. A girl
might be portrayed desperately fondling a plantain tree, gripping a pet
falcon, the symbol of her lover, or hurrying through the rainy darkness
intent only on reaching a longed-for tryst. A prince would appear lying on
a terrace, his outstretched arms striving vainly to detain a calm beauty
or welcoming with delight a bashful girl as she slowly advanced. In all
these pictures, romantic love was treated as the highest good and physical
passion was interpreted with a freshness and innocence unequalled in the
world's art.
Such paintings were, at first sight, easy to appreciate. Although they
alternated between two methods of expression--the first a style of savage
distortion, the second a style of the softest grace--each manner enlivened
the common subject.[1] Yet in two respects elucidation was vitally
necessary. Just as in Japan, the lover might express his longings by
cryptic references to Nature, the Indian artist employed poetic symbols to
charge his subjects with romantic ardour. Flowers were never merely
flowers nor clouds clouds. The symbols of Indian poetry--the lotus swaying
in a stream, the flowering creeper embracing a trunk--were intended to
suggest passion-haunted ladies. The mingling of clouds, rain and lightning
symbolized the embraces of lovers, and commonplace objects such as dishes,
vases, ewers and lamps were brought into subtle conjunction to hint at
'the right true end of love.' What, in fact, might seem at first sight to
be a simple portrait, proved on closer understanding to be a study in
despair, a revelation of delight or a clue to rapture, each image with its
sexual implications contriving to express some nuance of longing. In these
pictures, only a part of the meaning was apparent and without a
comprehension of the poetry, much of its true significance was lost.
Such an obstacle to understanding was real enough but, as the eye ranged
over this new kind of love-painting, a second difficulty appeared. In many
pictures, the lover had special characteristics. He was shown with a crown
of peacock's feathers, clad in a golden _dhoti_ and in every case his skin
was mauve or slate-blue.[2] In certain cases, the lady of his choice
appeared bowing at his feet, her pose suggesting the deepest adoration;
yet, in other pictures, his role was quite different. He was then a
resolute warrior, fighting and destroying demons. It was clear, in fact,
that here was no ordinary lover but one who might also be a god. At the
same time, other perplexing circumstances were present. The lover's
appearance was that of an aristocratic youth and the ladies whom he loved
had the bearing of elegant princesses. Yet often the scene of their
encounters was a forest thick with flowering trees. His companions were
cowherds and the objects of his love were not the ladies of a court but
cowgirls. Other activities betrayed the same lowly sphere. In certain
pictures, he was shown eating with cowherds, sharing in their sports,
grazing the cattle and himself milking cows. That such a lover should
dominate the paintings was perplexing in the extreme and just as cultured
Indians would be baffled by Italian and Flemish painting unless they
already knew the life of Christ, it was clear that part, even the
majority, of these pictures would remain obscure unless the character of
their central figure was first explained. One further point remained. In
many cases, the pictures were not intended to be viewed in isolation but
were illustrations of a text. Many were inscribed with Sanskrit or Hindi
verses and in each case there was an intimate connection between the
content of the picture and the poem's subject. To understand the pictures,
therefore, some acquaintance with these texts was necessary for only in
this way could the identity and role of the blue-skinned lover be
appreciated. He was, in fact, Krishna--an incarnation of God--and in his
worship some of the deepest requirements of the Indian spirit found
ecstatic release.
The purpose of this book is to throw some light on Indian painting by
presenting the story of Krishna in the clearest possible terms. It might
be supposed that, of all Indian gods, Krishna was already the one best
known to the West and therefore, perhaps, the one least requiring
explanation. Among modern poets, Sacheverell Sitwell devotes a whole poem
in _Canons of Giant Art_ to describing Krishna's effect.
Rain falls and ceases, all the forest trembles:
Mystery walks the woods once more,
We hear a flute.
It moves on earth, it is the god who plays
With the flute to his lips and music in his breath:
The god is Krishna in his lovely youth.
Louis MacNeice in _Ten Burnt Offerings_ describes a much-loved cat,
Fluid as Krishna chasing the milkmaids.
And the same Krishna, flute player and lover of milkmaids, is familiar to
British audiences from the dancing of Ram Gopal. Yet side by side with
this magnetic figure, a second, strangely different Krishna is also known.
This second Krishna is the preacher of the _Bhagavad Gita_, the great
sermon delivered on the battle-field of Kurukshetra. It is a cardinal
document of Indian ethics, and consoled Mahatma Gandhi during his work for
Indian independence. It has for many years been known in the West but has
recently attracted fresh attention through a modern translation by
Christopher Isherwood and Swami Prabhavananda. This Krishna of the _Gita_
is clearly quite different in character from the Krishna of the milkmaids
and, without some effort at reconciliation, the two must obviously present
a baffling enigma. Indeed so great is the contrast that many Englishmen,
entranced by the lover, might be astonished to hear of a more didactic
role, while those who value the _Gita_ might easily be disturbed on
finding its author so daringly identified with the theory and practice of
romantic love. The truth, if we are to admit it, is that despite
considerable acquaintance with Krishna as a name, few educated people in
the West have intimate knowledge of his story. In fact, we have only to
ask some basic questions to realize how slender is general understanding.
What, for example, were the circumstances in which Krishna was born and
why did he enter the world? Of which Indian god is he an incarnation? Who
were his parents and how did he come to live among cowherds? Who were
Radha and Rukmini? In what ways did he love the milkmaids and why has this
aspect of his story assumed such big proportions in Indian religion? Why,
in fact, is God a romantic lover? Just as few Indians, even highly
educated Indians, could survive a friendly cross-examination on details of
the New Testament, the majority of cultured Englishmen would find it hard
to answer even a few of these simple questions.
It is to remedy in part this situation that I have marshalled the material
given in this book. With certain types of issue I have made no attempt to
deal. I have not, for example, discussed statements such as 'Krishna was
not a god but a hero of a rough tribe of cowherds.' 'The Gita is an
interpolation.' 'There is general agreement on the historicity of
Krishna.' 'Radha appears to be a late addition.' Higher Criticism, whether
applied to the Bible or to the classics of Indian religion must
necessarily remain a small scholars' preserve--of vital importance to the
few but of little account to the main body of believers or to artists
illustrating adored themes. I have rather been concerned to present
information about Krishna in the form in which it has actually reached
Indian minds and has influenced belief and worship. During the last two
thousand years, various texts have dealt with Krishna, emphasizing first
one and then another aspect of his character and in the process assembling
more and more details. These texts are still revered by Indians and
although they are the product of widely separated eras, all of them have
still an air of contemporary authority. By considering them in historical
sequence, we can understand not only the subject-matter of romantic Indian
painting but realize why Krishna, the adored lover, should still enchant
religious India.
[Footnote 1: Note 1.]
[Footnote 2: Note 2.]