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A book on Pahari artists by B. N. Goswamy and
Eberhard Fischer captures THE prayers of the earth, crushed under the weight of evil, and of the gods and sages who entreat him answered: Vishnu promises to be born of the womb of Devaki, who, together with her husband, Vasudeva, was thrown into prison by her villainous brother Kansa. The divine plans unfold in their proper time, and Krishna is born in the auspicious moment when the constellation Rohini presided over by God Brahma was at the ascendant and all constellations of stars and planets had assumed peaceful aspects. The hour is midnight, and while a storm blows outside and rain drenches the earth, Vishnu manifests himself in his own complete divine form, like the full moon rising in the east, through Devaki, who was like a goddess. The appearance of the child in this extraordinary form fills the parents with wonder.
As the text says: Vasudeva saw that wonderful child of lotus-like eyes, endowed with four arms, bearing a conch and wielding aloft a mace and a discus and lotus... with the kaustubha gem beautifying his neck, clad in yellow silken garments, possessed of the charming complexion of a rain-bearing cloud; bathed in the lustre of his crown and earrings studded with invaluable gems...". But the father is not afraid, nor is Devaki, and the couple offer humble homage and "praise the Lord with folded palms", uttering words of submission and gratitude. Vishnu, as Krishna, speaks to Vasudeva and Devaki consolingly, gently and says that he must be saved from the hands of Kansa, who had killed each child that his sister bore in prison, and be quickly taken to Gokul to be substituted by another child born at the same time to Yashoda. This having been spoken, Vishnu, through his divine prowess, "immediately assumed his form as a human infant. Then, Vasudeva, for fear of losing time, quickly took the baby in his arms and moved out of the prison cell". Wondrously, at that time, the gatekeepers of the prison were deprived of all their consciousness and the functioning of their senses, and the gates which had been "closed by huge doors secured with iron chains and bolts automatically flung open... like darkness dispersing at the appearance of the sun". In his depiction of these passages, the painter stays remarkably close to the text: one sees the nimbate form of Vishnu-Krishna being worshiped by his parents inside a dark room. On the right side, the prison walls are visible, the rain is pouring down from the heavens, the gate flung open, the guards seated drowsily much like their watchdogs. There are details that the painter fills in on his own, like Devaki's head being tied with a cloth-band like any Pahari woman at the time of child-birth, or the two watchdogs seen here like the guards, having lost all "the functioning of their senses". The painter lays the scene out with the same clarity he invests folio after folio of this Bhagavata Purana series with. All non-essential details are eliminated, but nothing necessary to comprehend the situation or to grasp the bhava of the text or the paintings is left out. Iconographic details are emphatically introduced: the lone lamp at the column that signifies the night, the pitcher and small objects by the side of the bed that connote all of Devaki's and Vasudeva’s possessions in the prison cell, the flashes of red lightning in the sky and the rain pouring down in pearl strands, the closed eyes and the listless form of the watchmen and their dogs, the crenellations above the prison walls suggestive of a fortress. At the same time, the painter communicates the drama of the moment through the expressions on the faces of Krishna’s parents, a curious mixture of happiness, disbelief, fear, and devotion`85 In this episode with which the early part of Krishna’s earthly career culminates, we see him killing Kansa. For years, things have been moving towards this end. All Kansa’s attempts to kill Krishna having failed, he finally invites Krishna and Balarama to his presence in Mathura, where a great festival is to be held. After some minor incidents, the two brothers arrive at Kansa’s court only to find one threat after another; but they overcome them all. Before they kill the two giant wrestlers Mushtika and Chanur, who challenge them, they dispose of the mountain-like elephant Kuvalayapida, who is let loose upon them. It is the tusks of that very elephant, still pink-red with his blood, that the two brothers are wielding as they reach the innermost part of the heavily guarded arena where Kansa sits enthroned. The painter shows Krishna and Balarama arriving in the court, flushed with anger, determined finally to uproot the evil that is Kansa. Balarama, ordinarily the more excitable of the two, falls a step behind Krishna, for it is the destiny of Kansa to die at the hand of Krishna. Defenceless, Kansa falls, but in one last piteous gesture, he touches Krishna’s feet, for surely that is where salvation lies. The minor characters reflect different moods: the cowering man with his turban falling registers agony and despair, while the two attendants show resignation, perhaps even secret satisfaction. There is high drama in this scene, enough to match the animated text of the Bhagavata Purana. In a blaze of saffron yellow, reds, greens, oranges, and blues, the painter captures the essence of the episode, concentrating the energy on the fatal blow that angry-eyed Krishna delivers to his arch-enemy. When Kansa dies, there is great jubilation and the event is celebrated with great zest. The cowherds rush together, musicians are called and to the accompaniment of loud and joyous melodies, the news is proclaimed. Standard descriptions of festive occasions in the Bhagavata Purana include references to music, but the painter here brings in, with wonderful verve, a range of instruments that he knew from his own environment: the double- headed dhol, which is beaten with a stick on the right and a flat palm on the left side, the twin kettle- drums, the clarinet-like shehnai, and elaborate long horns of narsinghas of three different types which are associated with Pahari folk music. As music is played, two young gopas break into dance, their fluttering scarves interpreting their feelings. Through his placement of the figures, the painter breaks up the composition and fills the page with a spreading, billowing joy. Except for the four musicians who strain at their wind instruments, their cheeks swollen with the effort, the other characters reveal in their expressions a true sense of elation. The interest in patterns is once again evident, and there is marked flair with which colours are selected and distributed all over the glowing flat ground. But this concern of the artist is not allowed to dominate the work, which seems to swell and burst with a sense of true celebration.
This scene is easy to
confuse with celebrations that accompanied the news of the birth of
Krishna in Nanda’s home, for the range of instruments used and the
cast of characters would be much the same. But, considering the
sequence of paintings and the folio number it bears, there can be
little doubt that the occasion for celebration is the joyous news of
Kansa’s death that has just been brought in breathlessly by the two
gopas on the left.
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