Some Frescoes of the Cholas

It is very well known to students of Indian Art, especially to those interested in the history and the development of art and architecture in South India, that Chola Art is but a continuation of Pallava Art. We find no specific line of demarcation that separates the one from the other, no marked difference of conception and execution, of form and ornament, of action and repose. The transition from the one to the other has been a smooth one. There has been nothing of the so-called independence of the artistic spirit, which by the name of artist's licence may pass muster as the element in art corresponding to poetic licence in literature, to wean the painter away from the most noble and beneficent of art-traditions, encouraging him to fly at a tangent from the most profitable of past culture and achievement for the mere and empty satisfaction of exhibiting thereby what is wrongly supposed to be originality of conception and its embodiment.

On the other hand, it is a matter for congratulation that art tradition in India has been kept up in some degree of purity till some time past, though the hand of destruction, diversion, and positive discouragement have sufficiently helped the process of decay that has been going on rather rapidly for the last two or three centuries.

Under the rule of the Hindu kings, rulers of a high intellectual calibre, enlightened in a very true sense, delighting in the encouragement of a thousand arts like dancing, painting, sculpture, architecture, music and poetry,–to mention only a few,–there was all the possibility of the best in every art exhibiting itself; and it is such a living monument of the best execution of form in line and colour by some unknown artists of the royal court of the Chola kings of Tanjore, peeping through the dust and dilapidation of encrusting coatings some centuries old, on the walls of the dark and dismal passages round the Garbhagriha of Lord Brihadeswara, and dwelling practically on untrodden ways to waste its sweetness in the darkest gloom, that made me wonder at the mighty skill and the marvelous workmanship of those cunning craftsmen of old whose value and worth have so long been a sealed book to the world around.

It was the advent of a Sigurd in the person of Professor Dubreuil who, on a scent got from the chirpings of strange birds in the form of frescoes at Ellora singing songs in a magic language and foretelling his discovery of Brynhild in pictures at Kailasanath in Conjeevaram, that gave the stimulus for fresco-hunting in temples, and all praise is due to Mr. Govindaswamy who got it as the richest game in one such expedition when similar effort very generally happened to be in the case of many others but a mere wild goose chase.

There are many of these covering almost every inch of the walls whose gigantic proportions allow the execution of such huge drawings as of Siva in the attitude of Tripurantaka sitting in the beautiful ‘Alidha’ posture in his mighty chariot, the conception of which is a unique thing in Sanskrit literature. Of these pictures only a few are open to our gaze if we go through those pitch dark passages with a sufficiently powerful light to illuminate everything around. The greater part of it is all covered up by thick coatings of colour, every layer revealing some pictures of the later Vijayanagar school when the Nayaks held their own against the suzerainty of the powerless descendants of the once mighty emperors.

These pictures of the Nayak period, which mark the beginning of degeneracy of art in India, exhibit in themselves that unpleasing tone of colour and vulgarity of line which are so obnoxious to the eye that revels in the beauty of the rhythmic lines and grace of form that peep out from underneath, and more than amply fulfill the dictum of the Acharyas of old that Rekha–line drawing–(graceful drawing ofa picture in line) is praiseworthy’ as the Vishnudharmottara puts it. It is not the graceful line alone; we have all the tastes catered to in those splendid frescoes of the Cholas. The element of ‘bhushana,’ i.e., ornamentation which is so dear to the women is in such rich profusion on those walls that one stares in wonder at the wealth of imaginative and inventive skill of the workmen responsible for such glorious work. A look at the danseuses in fig. 3 and the crowns (‘kiritas’) of the five princes (fig. 1) would show what a conspicuous part ornamentation plays in Indian Art in general and in Chola Art in particular. The rich trappings of the horse in fig. 2, are also noteworthy in this connection. In fact the pictures here reproduced do not speak half so eloquently as the originals do; and I must confess that I was rather baffled when I was copying that labyrinthine display of ornamentation on the wall. To do justice to the pictures I can only say that the intricacy of the ornamentation in them is like magic. As for the element of ‘varna’ (colour) that captivates popular hearts, even the remnants of faded colour that still stick to those surfaces are enough to help the play of our imagination in trying to guess how bright and fresh they must have been in the days when the Chola monarchs gazed proudly at them.

Fig. 1.

Now to go to the details of the pictures. We have five typically beautiful faces of Mahapurushas in fig. 1, wherein the minute details of every part are worked to a high level of finish. The long and lustrous eyes, the elevated nose in perfect relief, the sweet and graceful lips, the lovely chin and full cheeks, the arched brows and the ringlets of hair, the beautifully curved ears and the singularly attractive neck, are typical of the highest human conception of the beauty of semi-divine form. As for the ornamentation in the figure, little need be said of it in detail since a look at the crown would talk eloquently on the point.

The picture of the rider on the horse in fig. 2 is equally attractive in every detail. There is a grace in the way in which he holds the reins in one hand and the long wand in the other. The horse though reminding one of the animals the of that species, especially the white one in the centre in the Battle of St. Egidio by Paolo Uccello in the National Gallery, and though appearing to be defective in drawing to some extent in the so-called modern academic sense–one has to bear in mind that many pictures of great masters cannot stand this test so well, which is, to confess the truth, never a test of true greatness and worth–is yet a unique example of the skill in animal drawing in those far-off days, and testimony to this is borne by the magnificent elephant that is painted very close to it.

Fig. 2.

Fig. 3.

The figures of the dancers in fig. 3, with the slender waist, the supple form, the slight tilt of the head, together with thegraceful ‘mudras’ of the hand and the poise of the body forming beautiful ‘bhangas’ remind one of the familiar line of Kalidasa in the Malavikagnimitra:

Cchando nartayitur yathaiva manasah sishtam tathasya vapuh!

The artist has been most lavish here in his gift of ornamentation and has shown himself off as an excellent beautifier. In short, the figures of the two dancing damsels correspond exactly to the description of the Daitya princess Mahallika in the Kathasaritsagara:

‘Lalatatilakopetam Charunupurapadikam!
Smeradrishtim Vidhatraiva srshtam nrttamayimiva!!
Kesairaralairdasanais sikharair bibhratim stanau!
Uromandalinau nrttam srjatimiva nutanam!!’ ¹

All the theory of various ‘gunas’ and ‘alamkaras’ that constitute beautifying factors in the case of good-looking persons in general and lovely maidens in particular, and which have been given out in detail by Rajanaka Ruyyaka in the two verses of his Sahridayalila–

‘Rupam varnah prabha raga abhijatyam vilasita!
Lavanyam lakshanam cchaya saubhagyam chetyami gunah!!
Ratnam hemamsuke malyam mandanadravyayojana!
Prakirnam Chetyalamkarah saptaiveta mayamatah!!’

elaborately explained in his commentary thereon, is to be seen crystallised in perceptible form in these two figures.

The picture of Vishnu painted close by as keeping time is another type of the ‘Mahapurusha’, the knowledge of whose ‘lakshana’ is so essential in the case of every Indian artist who professes to work in the traditional method. The subtlety and grace of the lines that gently indicate the movements of the limbs is well worth noting in this as well as the other figures in the picture. As for the ‘bhaktas’, one of whom similarly keeps time by a sounding of the cymbals, and the other merges himself in that divine harmony of sound and action, we see pure piety written plainly on their faces. The quaint little figure of the dwarf playing the part of the grotesque drummer is very often met with in Sanskrit literature in the person of the famous ‘kubjas’ and ‘vamanas’ so absolutely essential in royal equipages and households and peeping out of any group of pictures and carvings of ancient India discovered in any part of our land. The epithet ‘Vismayalolita maulih’ used ironically in the case of Bhattaputra in the Kuttinimata of Damodaragupta and the sarcastic verse,

‘Brahmoktanatyasastre gite murajadivadane chaiva!
Abhibhavati Naradadin pravinyam Bhattaputrasya!!

can well be takenin their plain and ordinary sense and applied to the dwarf in the picture who exhibits in his form,personality and movement that essential and superior knowledge of ‘Sangita’ and ‘Natya’ which is a regular feature with the‘ganas’ of Siva of whom he is one.

The picture seated Siva Fig. 4 that appears like the figure of Yogadakshinamurti with all its grace and serene dignity reminds us of the nandi sloka of the Mricchakatika,

‘Paryankagranthibandhadvigunitabhujagasleshasamvitajanoh!
Antahpranavarodhavyuparatasakalajnanaruddhendriyasya!
Atmanyatmanameva vyapagatakaranam pasyatastatvadrishtya
Sambhorvah patu sunyekshanaghatitalayabrahmalagnah samadhih!!

wherein this attitude of Siva is most beautifully portrayed.

Fig. 4.

Shortness of time and physical indisposition denied me the pleasure of copying some more of these wonderful masterpieces that form an exquisite ‘Deyakula Chitrasala’. But the regret is more than balanced by the sense of their being typical representatives of the most noteworthy elements of that magic conception and workmanship that stand there on those walls of the unfrequented passage, to inspire and guide willing recipients of art knowledge and culture who approach them with humility and love that cleanse and purify the disciples’ heart and turn it into a spotless receptacle, pure and crystalline like a limpid sheet of water in a lake.

1 Some of the technicalities of Natya are cleverly suggested in these two interesting verses possessing a double meaning.