Incorrigible Romantics

Among the many kingdoms that flourished in medieval India, few were ever more warlike than the nine kingdoms of Rajputana in the north. Their rulers claimed direct descent from the sun, and even the powerful Moguls, who had swept everything before them, could not topple the lofty Rajput castle fortresses where men dreamed all night of battle. But as time passed, the Rajputs lost their fierceness, and from the 16th to the 19th centuries were patrons of a joyful and fragile art, which has become their chief legacy. Last week gallerygoers were trooping in to see an exhibition of that art in New Delhi, and Manhattan's Asia House was readying a much finer display of no paintings for an exhibition early in December (see color).

None of the paintings at Asia House is more than 500 years old, and some only 150, but few of the artists' names are known today. The roots of the art lie in both the medieval illustrated manuscripts that came from western India and in the Persian-inspired art of the Moguls. While the Hindu and Jain manuscripts used simple flat colors and stylized figures, the Mogul artists went in for portraiture and heroic narrative. The Rajputs borrowed from both, added their own flavor.

No Derring-Do. They painted on paper, using a kind of tempera made by grinding colored stones and mixing the powder with herbs to produce fiery reds and deep greens, or blues and yellows as soft as butterfly wings. Their works were usually book-sized, for they were meant to be looked at in albums that had been designed for the private entertainment of the patron. The artists rarely spoke of war, nor did they flatter their masters with tales of derring-do. Though they might produce a hunt or a scene of ceremony, they were at heart incorrigible romantics. Legend and poetry gave them inspiration, and their purpose was not so much to produce a picture as to create a mood.

Probably no artists were ever so influenced by music and literature, or tried so hard to produce a blending of all the arts. One of their favorite themes was to illustrate a series of poems called Ragmalas or Garland of Ragas.* But such paintings could also tell a story--often the tale of two lovers, whose love was both human and divine. The Rajputs had a genius for mixing heaven and earthiness.

The Long Night. It was only natural that one of the favorite subjects of the Rajput artists should be Krishna, the naughty, and yet most appealing, blue-skinned god. As a boy, Krishna was constantly stealing milk, curds and butter; and as a man, he could seem to have enough separate bodies to dance the night through with a whole flock of milkmaids at once. One such night, according to the poets, lasted for several months:

Milkmaids and Nanda's son alternate like storm clouds and lightning, The darkling Krishna and fair Braj girls, like a gold and sapphire necklace . . . And there was such harmony of the ragas and raginis that, by hearing it, Wind and water no longer moved.

*The raga, like its sister the ragini, is a melodic framework within which the Indian musician can improvise almost indefinitely. But the musician must not employ the wrong raga at the wrong moment, for each is strictly associated with a particular season, time of day or shading of emotion.

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