From getting these works translated to having copies of them illustrated was but a short step, considering the wealth of talent that was there in the ateliers attached to the Mughal court. The imperial copy of the Ramayana, completed in 1588 and now at Jaipur, ranks among the noblest products of the court, for some of the greatest of Mughal painters were involved in the project. Other illustrated manuscripts of the text have also survived, many of them now designated by art-historians as being ‘sub-imperial’. Among them, of course, is the copy that was commissioned by Abd al Rahim, Khan-i Khanan, the celebrated noble at the court. The Khan-i Khanan’s copy has an importance all its own, for it bears, on its fly-leaf, a long note in Persian, in the great noble’s own hand, introducing the book, and giving the circumstances in which it was produced. "This book", wrote the Khan-i Khanan, "which is known as the Ramayana, is among the esteemed books of India. It is an account of Ramchandra, who was one of the great kings of India. His external and spiritual graces were exemplary, being manifestations of divine attributes." He goes on in this strain, speaking of how Naqib Khan wrote the text, translating it with the help of Devi Missar, a Brahmin, who was learned in Sanskrit. And, finally, of how this work was completed by the scribes and painters working for the noble, after the emperor himself had shown him a personal copy of the book which he possessed, and allowed him the privilege of having a copy of it made for his own use.

Is all of this turning into a lesson in art history? Perhaps it is. But there is little wrong in our being able to read, through this, meaning in these facts, to see beyond the rigid, uncompromising categories into which we tend often to cram our prejudices, our preconceptions. In any case, I need to get back to the point with which I intended to start: ‘another’ Ramayana. That Ramayana, painted leaves from which are now scattered, but have been steadily appearing on the art market for some time, comes as even more of a surprise. There are some exquisite folios in the manuscript, many of them renderings of well-known episodes — among them, the delicately done scene of Hanumana being embraced by Rama after he returns from Lanka with news of Sita — with floating panels of Persian text integrated into the image. But the surprise I speak of consists of the fact that the manuscript seems to have belonged once to the mother of the emperor Akbar, Hamida Banu, often referred to with the title of maryam makani’, ‘dwelling at the same loftiness as the Virgin Mary’. There is increasing evidence that Hamida Bano was a collector of books in her own right, for some very early manuscripts —dating back even to the days when Humayun had just conquered India again— bear her name, and the impression of her seal, indicating her ownership of these. On the fly-leaf of this Ramayana, too, there are numerous seals and inscriptions, among them a note that this manuscript, completed in 1593, was viewed by maryam makani in August 1604, apparently when she was on her death-bed. There are other seals and dated notes on the leaf, including inspection notes by the emperors Jahangir and Aurganzeb, in their respective hands. Apparently, this was no ordinary manuscript. For, to its intrinsic value as a work of art (one note records the price of the work as 550 gold mohurs) had been added — in the eyes of the two emperors — the immeasurable value of the fact that it had once been touched by the hands of a revered ancestor of theirs.