Age-Old Colours of Devotion

Age-Old Colours of Devotion

Sharad Purnima (the Autumn full moon), Nathdwara painting, National Museum of Asian Art, Smithsonian Institution

I hope life has been treating you all kindly since I last wrote.

It is Janmashtami today, the birthday of Lord Krishna.

Long ago, when Mani was posted in Varanasi, my three and a half-year old woke up on Janmashtami morning, delighted to know there was no school. “Why?” he asked. “Because it’s Bhagwan Krishna’s birthday,” I said.

Only very recently had he discovered that birthday meant cake, junk food, colas, and his best friend Siddharth. The idea that God’s birthday could exist without a ‘budday paaty’ baffled him. I tried explaining that we humans celebrate it for Him, but he wasn’t having it.

By noon, I was tired and out of arguments, and then God Himself came to my rescue. Mani called to say we were invited to the evening Janmashtami celebrations at the RPF (Railway Protection Force) barracks. That was a big weight off my mind and the little boy got busy planning the rest of the day and his ‘party clothes’ for the evening.

Of course, he was rather suspicious that no gifts were required. But that doubt clearly vanished the moment he saw pastries, vegetable cutlets, potato chips, barfi, cold drinks and, of course, Siddharth. By the end of the evening, he had decided that God’s birthday was a much grander affair—bigger crowd, grown-ups included, devotional music blaring, colourful and elaborate tableaus, ‘police’ everywhere, and catering that beat any railway colony party.

Those among you who know the story of Krishna’s birth, would remember that Krishna’s cruel maternal uncle, Kansa, had been warned that his sister Devki’s eighth child would bring his end. Determined to save himself, he imprisoned Devki and her husband, Vasudev, and killed each of their first seven newborns.

Hapless, Vasudev conspired with his friend Nand that they would exchange their newborns so that at least one of the former’s children might live.

The prison was closely watched, any child born there was to be taken to Kansa straight away. But this was the Lord Himself coming into this world, so naturally, miracles happened. The guards fell into a deep sleep, the cell locks simply opened, while an exhausted Devki sank into deep slumber. Vasudev picked up the newborn, hid him safely in a basket, and stepped out. It was pouring, Yamuna River was flooded, but he somehow crossed over to Nand’s house. There, he quietly exchanged the baby for Nand’s little daughter, Yogmaya herself, and returned just as quietly.

Kamsa picked up the child to kill her, but before he could do anything, she slipped free, rose into the sky in her divine form, and declared that his killer had already been born.

Krishna as Shrinathji, Nathdwara painting, National Museum of Asian Art, Smithsonian Institution 

Yet one thing I wonder about every year, is: why do police, security forces and guards celebrate this one festival with such zeal. Aren’t they embarrassed commemorating the anniversary of history’s most famous security breach, when their professional ancestors were literally caught napping on the job?

Religion and politics are not really the subjects of my blog, but sometimes something related catches my attention and I feel like sharing it with you.

So, Janmashtami today seems the perfect time to tell you about my recent visit to the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Asian Art in Washington, D.C., where a special exhibition called Delighting Krishna: Paintings of the Child God is showing exquisite, antique Nathdwara pichhwai paintings.

The paintings unfold like prayers in colours: rich with divine scenes, age-old stories, and the spirit of devotion. The large, elaborate, intricate cloth paintings, created in the 17th and 18th centuries, take their name from the small city of Nathdwara in Rajasthan, where the tradition thrived. “Pichhwai” literally means ‘that which hangs at the back’ (pichh - back, wai - hanging), as they form the backdrop for the idol of Shrinathji, a child form of Krishna.

Some of these paintings are huge. The largest on display is 77 square feet, “the size of two king beds!” writes Jennifer Giacca, the museum’s Conservation Scientist. She and her team examined the works using ultraviolet, visible, and infrared light to study the materials and techniques. Her observation is that the painters experimented with and embraced every new material available to them in the country and from abroad.

“This imaging helps visualize, spatially locate, and differentiate materials across an entire painting,” she explains.

The exhibition is a part of Arts of Devotion, a five-year initiative of the National Museum of Asian Art, to deepen public understanding of religion.

Our docent, Mr. John Brennan, spoke with wide-eyed enthusiasm about the details: figures, colours, and symbolism behind each work. Krishna, seven years old and crowned with his mormukut (peacock feather crown), stands bedecked in jewellery, lifting the Govardhan Hill with one hand. Around him, cows, lotuses, peacocks, a moonlit sky, and the gopis (female cowherds) become spiritual emblems, each a coded act of devotion.

A team of conservation experts spent three years carefully restoring these pichhwais, aiming to keep them close to how they were received. Old patches applied by artists were retained unless they damaged or obscured the imagery. Even misaligned repairs were preserved, valued as integral markers of each painting’s long history.

These particular pichhwais were sourced from Pushtimarg (path of grace) followers in Pennsylvania.

This Vaishnavite sect views devotion as seva (service). They serve the deity as we would a beloved member of the household. The idol is treated as a human being, offered elaborate meals, clothing, jewellery, perfumes, music, and art. No wonder then, that they call haveli- a mansion, and not mandir (temple) where Krishna is worshipped. Would it be right to assume that wherever the family goes, even on vacation, someone always stays behind to keep Shrinathji company?                                                                     

Notice how the intricate Nathdwara painting shows the cows gazing
at Krishna, their protector. If you look closely, you may find two bulls too. National Museum of Asian Art, Smithsonian Institution.

The sect’s history is entwined with Indian politics.  

Pushtimarg was started by Vallabha, a Telugu Brahmin, in Braj, in the 16^th century after he received a divine mantra. His ascendants expanded the reach and property of the sect to different places and regions in India. 

Shandip Saha (University of Ottawa)* writes that the expansion process started ‘when the Pusti Marga had succeeded in wresting control of the Srinathji temple from the Gaudiya Vaisnavas in 1540, thus establishing their full authority over the shrine.’

During the reign of Mughal emperors Akbar, Jahangir, and Shahjehan,  ‘the overall patterns of religious patronage practiced by the Mughal authorities that granted land to religious communities in return for the promise that they pray for the overall welfare of the empire.’ Saha writes.

But under Aurangzeb, Pushtimarg shifted its centre to Nathdwara, to escape persecution. In the 20th century, it drew strength from the patronage of wealthy Gujarati merchants.

Through all these shifts, the art survived. In these pichhwais in indigo, emerald, gold, white, pink, ochre, orange colours, Krishna is not just depicted—he is served, entertained, and loved. These priceless antique treasures, showing various scenes from Krishna’s leela (divine pastimes) and life in Braj, have travelled across the Atlantic Ocean with the immigrants in the last few centuries, and remain offerings of beauty and faith. The exhibition runs until August 24, 2025.

*Creating a community of grace: A history of the Pusti Marga in northern and western India, Shandip Saha’s dissertation submitted to the University of Ottawa for his Ph.D. degree (2004).  

Kunj Ekadashi: The festival of the grove, Nathdwara painting, National Museum of Asian Art, Smithsonian Institution.

                                                                                                 -Anupama S Mani                                                                                                                                      

 

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