General History and Style of Palm-Leaf Illustration
To create a broad chronological framework, it may be helpful to sketch what is known about the general history of this genre on the basis of works not illustrated here, before focusing upon manuscripts of the story of Rama, grouped by the text they illustrate. Possibly the oldest of all Orissan illustrated books is a Gita Govinda, with a commentary, known as Sarvanga[*] Sundari , composed, written down, and illustrated by the brahman Dhananjaya[*] . The date in its colophon can be interpreted as either 1689 or 1916.[12] If the earlier date is correct, the manuscript is in remarkably pristine condition. If the date is 1916, we must accept the fact that rich, refined, and very conservative work was being done quite recently. Faces are largely but not always in profile here, and the facial type has a distinctive squareness, with a pupil that fills the center of the elongated eye.
A second questionable candidate for one of Orissa's first illustrated manuscripts to survive is also a Gita Govinda; it has been ascribed to A.D. 1717.[13] Here the date in the colophon has clearly been altered from Saka 1628 (A.D. 1706) to Saka 1639, perhaps to correspond to the reign of the Khurda ruler Harikrisna[*] Deva, who is also mentioned in the colophon.[14] ç Thus we are left with an undated but possibly early manuscript. Faces are consistently viewed in profile here, with a very large eye in which the pupil floats in isolation from the lids. The thick, skirt-like sari and the covering of both background and figures with pigment makes the pictures seem more like some paintings on wood from Bengal and Orissa than like much Orissan work on palm leaf.[15] ç Drawing and composition are generally simple. Some mannerisms, such as the way the scarf and the end of the sari fly horizontally make this an unusual work, whenever it was made.
The first work whose date I can accept with confidence is a copy of books 8 and 9 of the Bhagavata Purana[*] , which was illustrated by the karana[*] poet Brajanatha Badajena[*] and written by his son, as described above. The colophon of this manuscript mentions what is probably the third regnal year (i.e., the second actual year) of the king Divyasimha Deva of Khurda, who ruled from A.D. 1793 to 1798.[16] This corresponds to 1795, when it is possible to reconcile the remaining information we have about this work. The illustrations, broadly similar to those of Dhananjaya's[*]Gita Govinda, are simpler in composition, with fewer rich designs, aside from the refined patterns of Ghyanasyama's writing. The figures are slightly clumsy. No faces are viewed frontally; the pupil floats in the center of the eye, whose corners are consistently darkened.
After this work of 1795, the major landmarks all figure in the detailed discussion of Ramayana[*] texts below. In brief, the Baripada Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] of the "ingenious karana[*] Satrughna" is dated to 1833. From the 1870s on we have a number of works by Sarathi Madala Patnaik (including several Adhyatma Ramayanas[*] ), by Raghunath Prusti (including a Lavanyavati[*] ), and by Michha Patajoshi (who specialized in the Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] ). These last three demonstrate that great diversity of style could be found among contemporary artists living no more than fifty miles
from each other. Surely this is understandable if we consider how individuals with different family backgrounds, who had not been trained in this craft, must have worked enthusiastically and with an independence unusual in the Indian artisanal tradition.
To return to our chronological framework, are we entirely at sea if a manuscript is undated or does not resemble a dated manuscript closely enough to be by the same hand? I would answer yes, at least in terms of the style of illustrations. It is a mistake to attribute to the same date in Orissa the traditional compositions, preference for profiles, and other devices that had been abandoned in Rajasthani painting in the seventeenth century.
A second basis often invoked for chronology is the writing style. In fact there is considerable difference of opinion here among Oriya pundits, and precise guidelines have never been formulated. One criterion in their discussions that may be of some use is the form of the letter: (aksara[*] ) a, which develops from an archaic
What can we say about the chronological position of an interesting manuscript that lacks a colophon, the Amaru Sataka from the state of Mayurbhanj in northern Orissa, now in the Orissa State Museum? It was originally ascribed to the late sixteenth or earl), seventeenth century on the basis of "the characters of the script and the style of the paintings."[20] I find so early a position inherently improbable in the absence of any other illustrated works securely dated from that period. Its style indeed differs from that of all other images discussed so far—with extremely mannered. definition of the body (for example the hourglass male figure) and varied textiles that often billow prominently around the heads of women. The Orissan convention of lobed hills does not appear, but rather a vertical form, curving at the top, similar to that in reliefs from the thirteenth-century Sun Temple of Konarak. Nor does it share distinctive features with another north Orissan manuscript, the 1832 Baripada Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] . The writing of the Amaru Sataka includes only the archaic form of the letter a . Taking all these characteristics; together, I would argue that this work belongs to the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century, probably but not inevitably preceding 1832. With this note of caution, let us turn to the manuscripts in question for the present study. Their dates are known precisely in some cases, but others remain hypothetical.
Adhyatma Ramayana[*] .
Because of its popularity in Oriya translation, it is no surprise to find that the Adhyatma Ramayana[*] was also frequently illustrated. What is remarkable is that illustrated versions of this text seem to have been a favorite of one particular artist late in the nineteenth century, Four of our seven examples were produced by the scribe Sarathi Madala Patnaik, a karana[*] by caste, who
worked largely in Chasa Limikhandi village in the small state of Badakhemundi in southern Orissa.[21] This prolific artist was by no means limited to the Adhyatma Ramayana[*] as a subject, but he repeated it more frequently than any other text. His manuscripts generally bear colophons with detailed information about when and where they were completed, showing that he worked between at least A.D. 1875 and 1908, often invoking Rama and Sita to bless his work, whether or not they figure in the text.
The Adhyatma Ramayana[*] now preserved in Bhubaneswar (Figures 50-55) provides Sarathi Madala's earliest date, 1875:
Completed at the temple of Sri Raghunatha Mahaprabhu in Shergarh taluka, Dingapadar Matha[*] , in the 19th anka[*] of Divyasimha Maharaja, sana 1284 fasli, samvatsara 1875, the month May, date Mesa[*] 28, 4th day bright half of Baisakha, Sunday, 7th hour; the scribe is the karana[*] Sarathi Madala[*] , inhabitant of Limikhandi village, Gadamutha taluka, Badakhemundi[*] .[22]
The New York Public Library Adhyatma Ramayana[*] (Figures 56-67) is dated, by equally complex and contradictory references, to what seems to be January 30, 1891.[23] A third copy in the collection of C. L. Bharany, New Delhi (Figures 68-71), is dated December 2, 1891.[24] ç And finally the Adhyatma Ramayana[*] in the Utkal University Library (Figures 72-74), is probably dated 1902.[25] ç Thus we have four examples of his illustration of the same text, one an early work, two mid-career, and one late, each differing in the precise narrative choices that the artist made.
The fundamentals of Sarathi Madala's style, however, are constant throughout these manuscripts and his other works, such as the Durga and Hanumana Stuti now in the L.D. Institute of Indology, Ahmedabad, discussed below. His roughly drawn figures, jerky in their movements, are easily recognized. Coarse patterns define textiles and occasionally background areas, although in general setting is minimal. A distinctive touch is a series of tassels across the top of many leaves (e.g. Figures 50, 51, 53, 57, 61, 72-74, 84-86). Pigment is added in small areas, generally black or red, in his later works to define the pupil of the eye. We shall return to the storytelling concerns and the inventive compositions of this artist—his depiction of some poignant episodes is remarkable—but at the same time it is hard to avoid a negative impression of his individual images, where verve and sheer energy displace care or sense of purpose.
Three more examples of the same text, all now in New Delhi, lack colophons but seem to be the work of unknown artists also late in the nineteenth century None is highly accomplished, yet none shows the determined clumsiness of Sarathi Madala. For example his illusory deer (Figures 51, 60, 68) has stumpy necks and knobbed feet, whereas the other versions create more conventional and convincing depictions of the graceful ungulate (Figure 76). None includes Sarathi Madala's formulaic tassels at the top of the folio, nor does any employ pigment. The National Museum's manuscript 75.536 (Figures 75-77) has slender figures with pinched faces, their eyes occasionally slanting upward for no apparent reason.[26] An unpublished work in the collection of C. L. Bharany (Figures 78, 79) has slightly more squat figures, like Sarathi Madala's.[27] ç Both manuscripts include the same portion of the complete text that Sarathi Madala illustrated, but their narrative choices differ considerably from his and from each other (see Appendix
1), suggesting that none of these works has served as a model for others. We see a plethora of independent versions of this popular text.
A fragmentary work in a private collection in New Delhi is of interest because it comprises the Uttara Kanda[*] , which is omitted from all other illustrated versions of the Adhyatma Ramayana[*] (and indeed is rarely illustrated in any circumstances).[28] The five pictures that: survive are extremely simple, showing little articulation within the contours of the body (Figures 80, 81). Textiles are very fiat, sometimes forming an abstract frame around a figure.
Durga and Hanumana Stuti.
The book combining these two texts, now in the L.D. Institute in Ahmedabad, is the work of Sarathi Madala Patnaik, the same prolific artist who created the first four copies of the Adhyatma Ramayana[*] just discussed (Figures 82-86).[29] Its colophon reads,
This book was completed in November, 1899, in the 11th anka[*] of Vira Sri Kripamayadeva[*] , on the fifth day of the bright half of the month of Karttika, on the fourth day of the week (Wednesday). This book is written by Sarathi Madala[*] Pattanayaka[*] , karana[*] by caste, of the village Casa Limikhanda[*] of the taluka Gadamutha of Badakhemundi[*] . . .. This book belongs to Satyavadi Banua[*] of Marahatiya village, Meriyali district, Sanakhemindi of Pratapgiri.
Thus we have a work glade two years before the Utkal University manuscript illustrated in Figures 73 and 74. Sarathi Madala's slapdash style is exactly that seen elsewhere. Occasional compositions in this quite different text resemble those in the Adhyatma Ramayana[*] , although again the treatment of the same incident varies. This variation suggests Sarathi Madala's dependence upon the guidance of instruct and memory rather than upon another manuscript as a model.
Ramalila[*] .
I have found only one copy of a Ramalila[*] with pictures, but it serves to demonstrate the most popular end of the spectrum of Oriya texts that might be illustrated. Paradoxically, its illustrations generally resemble those of the Sanskrit Adhyatma Ramayana[*] more than those of the Oriya texts discussed below, suggesting that popular culture cannot be equated with the use of vernacular language as opposed to Sanskrit.
This version of Krishna Chandra Rajendra's text, now in the National Museum, New Delhi, was copiously illustrated with a picture on both sides of almost every folio (Figures 87, 88)[30] Individual scenes are simple and the figures sketchy, although drawn with more regularity than those of Sarathi Madala. The faces show a distinctive small, rounded eye, its outer corner often prolonged in a straight line. A occurs in the modern printed form. For lack of any documentation for the date, I would guess that this manuscript was made late in the nineteenth century.
Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] .
A popular work by Orissa's premier poet, Upendra Bhañja, the Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] becomes almost unmanageably long when illustrated. Moreover, its literary character depends upon wordplay that is not readily transformed into pictures. Thus it is remarkable that at least five profusely illustrated manuscripts of the Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] are known. These five are the product of two quite
different artists who favored this text as Sarathi Madala favored the Adhyatma Ramayana[*] , indicating that the artist's own penchant played some role in the choice of subject matter
The first Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] (Plates 3-8, Figures 89-98) is a highly unusual work from Baripada in northern Orissa, a region less productive of illustrated palm-leaf manuscripts than was the south.[31] Pale washes of a wide range of pigments appear throughout this work, at times resembling watercolor, although there are also opaque black areas The drawing employs an exceptionally sketchy, discontinuous line, different in character from the rough works of Sarathi Madala Patnaik, or even from the writing in the Baripada Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] itself.
The most unusual element of this work is its format: many pages were joined at the edges by tiny pieces of string, so that the whole was folded accordion-fashion rather than in the normal succession of separate leaves that could be read in sequence, front and back. Thus some illustrations could extend over three or four folios, although the text proceeds in normal fashion from front to back of the same folio. In short, it must have been difficult to read the poem and to follow the illustrations simultaneously. A few other old examples of joined leaves exist, but all are relatively short, about ten leaves; these make no pretense of presenting so ambitious a literary text and commonly bear one short excerpt from the Gita Govinda. Today this format remains in use by the professional chitrakaras for pictures on palm leaves that lack any text whatsoever.
The Baripada Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] is also exceptional in the internal structure of its compositions. While generally the scene extends horizontally over the length of the folio, some scenes are drawn vertically on the folios (Plate 6, Figure 98). Moreover, the text is not neatly demarcated in rectangular panels but appears in irregular balloons with curving edges. The result is a more interwoven and pictorially complex effect, unlike the neat windows opening out from a plane clearly defined by writing that predominate in other manuscripts.[32]
I am not able to explain these remarkable characteristics by any single visual precedent in northern Orissa. Possibly joined pages had been in use previously. The occasional side view of single objects one encounters elsewhere in palm-leaf manuscripts (Figure 139), an expedient for showing tall objects on the narrow folio, may lie behind the complexity of orientation in this work. Some particular motifs are squarely within the Orissan tradition—for instance hills composed of overlapping lobes (cf. Plate 6, Figure 204). Nonetheless I am reluctantly struck by an impression of foreignness as well as novelty here. The sketchily outlined clouds of text in particular are vaguely reminiscent of William Blake. Is it possible that a copy of one of his illustrated books made its way to India early in the nineteenth century? The presence of English soldiers in the Baripada Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] itself,[33] and the proximity of English settlements in Balasore and Bengal, make it conceivable that such outside models might have appeared. But subsequent discussion of this manuscript will show that it is also firmly rooted in Orissan traditions, visual and narrative, and is by no means an attempt to replicate a European model.
The date of this interesting work is fortunately established on its first page in neatly rhymed verse: "Know that in samvat 1239 [A.D. 1832/3], in the nineteenth anka[*] of King Ramacandra, on the third day of the bright half of Magha, this writing
was completed. Here is the ingenious karana[*] Satrughna."[34] The last line is intriguing. "Ingenious" (vichaksana[*] ) befits the unique format and the compositions of this manuscript.
Yet this is not the only work of Satrughna. Scattered folios survive from a second, similar, Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] , which, however, was 10 centimeters longer than the Baripada copy Eleven of these larger leaves are preserved in the Rietberg Museum in Zurich, including several big compositions that stretch across four folios (Figures 99, 101).[35] One leaf is preserved in the Victoria and Albert Museum,[36] ç and three more in a private collection in New Delhi (Figure 100).[37] ç The drawing, figure types, and many motifs of these scattered folios are similar to those of the Baripada manuscript, yet they lack designs perpendicular to the page. Their text is also more conventionally organized in rectangular panels that fill the height of the folio. It seems probable that this dispersed Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] represents an earlier example of the same artist's work. If so, we can follow his development from mild innovation in the use of multiple-folio compositions to audacious pictorial ingenuity
Finally, at least one other illustrated text can be ascribed to the same artist in his audacious prime. This is a small copy of the unpublished poem Braja Bihara of Kripasindhu Pattanayaka[*] , now preserved in the History Department of Utkal University in Bhubaneswar.[38] It employs complex compositions with the text floating in balloons as in the Baripada Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] , and some parts of the design are at right angles to the normal horizontal layout of the page. The execution of both drawing and painting is much neater here than in the Baripada manuscript, but both may be products of Satrughna's maturity
A second scribe who, specialized in producing illustrated copies of the Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] lived almost a century later, 300 kilometers to the south. In 1928, the Oriya scholar Kulamani Das wrote of meeting a brahman in a village in Khallikot District who showed him a manuscript of this work:
In this he had, with a stylus alone, illustrated beautifully the hundreds of famous incidents described in the whole of the Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] , along with its poetry The churning of the Ocean, Sita's birth, Sita's wedding, the battle between Rama and Ravana[*] —illustrated by him, these are living examples of his uncommon love for the art he acquired by himself and for Bhañja's poetry I treasure the memory of how he sang the poem as he showed me the pictures. This brahman said that writing such Vaidehisa Vilasas[*] was his second occupation. He had written many such books and is encouraged by the rajas and rich people of Ganjam.[39]
This account documents the way in which such an artist chose the work in which he specialized, recited it with religious devotion as did later users of the manuscript, and also gained some livelihood from local worthies who appreciated his work. The phrase "love for the art he acquired by himself" supports my argument that many palm-leaf illustrators were self-taught rather than trained in a workshop.
While Kulamani Das does not mention the name of this artist, it was surely Michha Patajoshi, a brahman who produced three surviving illustrated copies of the Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] with colophons indicating that he worked in Balukeshvarpur
in Khallikot state. The first of these, now in the collection of the Mahavir Jain Aradhana Kendra, Koba, Gujarat (Figures 102-12), was probably completed in A.D. 1902.[40] The second work by Michha Patajoshi, now preserved in a private collection in New Delhi (Figures 113-124), was illustrated between the fifth day of the dark half of Sravana[*] , 1911, and the twelfth day of the dark half of Margasira, 1914.[41] ç The third Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] by the same artist, now in the Asutosh Museum at Calcutta University (Figures 125-139), was begun on the tenth day of the light half of Karttika, 1918, and completed on the festival Dhola Purnima[*] , 1926.[42] ç The last two identify Michha as the astrologer (patajosi[*] ) of the Badagada raja and as the son of Krishna Mishra, living in the village Balukeshvarpur, near Khallikot. He is fondly remembered by several inhabitants of Balukeshvarpur and by a grandson, Chandrasekhara Mishra, who lives in Aska. They estimate that he died around 1930 and say he was a lively, funny person, full of hasya rasa (comic sentiment). His name was bestowed by Raja Harihara of Khallikot: Michha (Liar) for teasing the king about his ability to hunt, and Patajoshi[*] (Court Astrologer) for his skill in making firework rockets. All speak with amusement of the enthusiasm with which he copied manuscripts and also carved wooden walking sticks. His modest house survives, its front now encased in cement, next to the goddess temple in this traditional Oriya village.
Neither the second nor the third copy of the Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] forms a coherent whole. Not only are some folios missing, but also there are duplicates of some page numbers. The duplications cannot be simply a slip of the pen, for the same portion of text (and accompanying illustrations) occur earlier in the principal sequence. In short, it would seem that Michha Patajoshi was working on several manuscripts side by side, repeating some basic compositions and narrative choices, as we shall see in later chapters, although not copying each page precisely. The basic selection of incidents illustrated in his three manuscripts is so similar and so profuse that it seems unnecessary to compare them by means of a chart. His later versions of the same text became progressively longer as he expanded the illustrations. When a customer appeared, he must have hastily bundled together various leaves, by accident including some from different copies. Thus the 1911-14 manuscript (i.e. the principal sequence of pages with colophon) includes a few leaves from an additional version. The 1918-26 manuscript includes more extra leaves from three other versions. In addition, eighteen folios from yet another version are preserved in the Rietberg Museum in Zurich.[43] Thus Kulamani Das's account of the devotion of this brahman scribe to the Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] is supported by the existence of parts of what seem to be eight different copies of that poem.
Here we have an artist comparable to Sarathi Madala, who had worked nearby just slightly earlier. While the Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] is physically but twice the length of the Adhyatma Ramayana[*] , it appears that Michha Patajoshi took four to eight years to produce one manuscript, whereas Sarathi Madala could dash off three or more within a single year. Although both might be described as "naive," unschooled either in the conventions of Orissan professional painting or in representational modes, there is considerably more sense of purpose in Michha Patajoshi's deployment of large-headed, comical figures to illustrate particular twists of the text. The resemblance in narrative choices between all his copies of the
Vaidehisa Vilasa[*] is, moreover, greater than that between Sarathi Madala's Adhyatma Ramayanas[*] . This might be explained by the artist's retention of one as a model, but even had he not kept one, it would seem fair to conclude that he was attached to his particular formulation of his favorite text, so carefully and lovingly worked out. The first manuscript of 1902 has slightly more in common with the work of Raghunath Prusti, who worked about 50 kilometers away in the 1880s, than did manuscripts of Michha's later career. Yet it would be hard to argue that Prusti trained Michha Patajoshi, who at most may have felt a youthful admiration for works of the older master. Two other examples of Michha Patajoshi's work are known, both large images of the Jagannatha Temple, which demonstrate that his devotion to Upendra Bhañja's version of the Ramayana[*] did not preclude his occasionally depicting other subjects.[44]
Lavanyavati[*] .
Among palm-leaf manuscripts, the Lavanyavati[*] is frequently illustrated, being a popular Oriya poem of moderate length, suitable for embellishment with pictures. A preliminary example is Ms. 72.109 in the National Museum. This book belongs; to a distinctive group of manuscripts that include bold areas of pure red and yellow, often in the background, as in Figure 140.[45] The drawing is firm and not very detailed, with a fixed repertoire of textile and border patterns. Bodies are stiff and show a characteristic mannered treatment of the upper end of both arm and leg, visible in the elbows of Figure 140, top. This group includes two copies of the Lavanyavati[*] itself that lack any illustrations of the Ramayana[*] section,[46] ç and in fact we shall see little of the National Museum copy, with which we began because only one of its illustrations is devoted to the Ramayana[*] sequence within the larger tale. Upendra Bhañja, who wrote in the first half of the eighteenth century, provides a terminus post quem for these manuscripts in general. Both forms of the letter a occur in the texts of each manuscript. No work of this group includes a date or place in its colophon, although the British Library Lavanyavati[*] does bear the name of a scribe, Nilamber. In short, their date seems to be possibly eighteenth or, more probably, nineteenth century. Their lack of attention to the episode in which the story of Rama is performed before Lavanyavati[*] is a significant corrective to our preoccupation with that tale.
In this book I have chosen to focus on four manuscripts of the Lavanyavati[*] where the Ramayana[*] sequence is extensively illustrated and well preserved. Some of these are close in date and probably in the place they were produced, yet each differs in its approach to the general treatment of narrative, as well as to the depiction of individual scenes. This poetic subject attracted a diverse range of the most accomplished and purposeful Orissan artists, as if the challenge of producing one fine version of this text appealed to them.
The first manuscript at one point belonged to a dealer in New Delhi who sold leaves to many major museums and collectors around the world.[47] Hence my designation, the Dispersed Lavanyavati[*] (Plate 9, Figures 141-56). This work has become a touchstone for quality in Orissan palm-leaf illustration. On the one hand it is consistently traditional, for example in preferring the profile view for faces, or in darkening one upper corner of the folio to indicate sky (e.g. Figure 141), a device found in early Rajput painting. On the other hand this work shows
unusual sensitivity in its quivering, delicate lines and in the way ordinary activities of the hero Chandrabhanu's household are described. Pigments are applied to many leaves, including black, white, a wide range of reds, oranges, yellows, blues and an occasional green.[48] Compositions are spacious, and the figures are stately and graceful. The Ramayana[*] section must have extended over at least ten folios.
No colophon has been found for this work, which has been ascribed to dates ranging from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century.[49] While it is tempting to consider this work a traditional and carefully wrought starting point for some of the more stereotyped examples that we know were produced in the nineteenth century, it is also impossible to view it as a direct ancestor of any other Lavanyavati[*] . Admitting that there are no clear indications of a very late date, either in the writing or in the pictures, I would prefer to think of this as either eighteenth or, more probably, early nineteenth century.
Our second example, now in the National Museum, New Delhi, illustrates the Ramayana[*] portion of the Lavanyavati[*] more amply than any other work I have come across, and hence only one-sixth of its pictures of this sequence can be reproduced here (Plate 10, Figures 157-74), whereas all of the Rama story in other versions is included.[50] This manuscript was made by the brahman Balabhadra Pathy, whose name we know from an illustrated Gita Govinda in the L.D. Institute of Indology in Ahmedabad.[51] ç A third work, surely by the same artist, is a copy of Sisusankara Dasa's poem on an epic theme, the Usabhilasa[*] , now largely in the National Museum, New Delhi.[52] ç
In all these manuscripts, Balabhadra Pathy used pigment in a distinctive way, with black scattered throughout for hair, water, and other telling details, as well as shades of red and blue-grey applied in transparent washes. The figures are mannered, their bodies inflated to form a taut, abstract pattern of billowing curves. Thus the torso tapers from enlarged shoulders to a tiny waist, an exaggeration of the "lion chest" of Indian tradition. A sharply defined pupil dead center in the round eye makes each face seem alert. Feet are large and fringed with toes along the side. Figures whose heads tilt sharply upward show a defiant energy, while other heads turn down to suggest coyness or fear (for example Sita at the left in Figure 162). Such subtle emotional effects reside in depictions not only of people but also of settings and animals that enhance the human moods, for example the fierce storm echoing Rama's longing for Sita while he waits on Mount Malyavan (Figures 170, 171).
The colophon of Balabhadra Pathy's Gita Govinda asserts that he worked in Jalantara, a small princely state in what is today northern Andhra Pradesh. In the past this area was largely Oriya-speaking and was at times included within Ganjam District, the cradle of much Oriya literature as well as of illustrated manuscripts. A ruler of Jalantara, Ramakrishna Deva Chotterai, composed a play called Prahlada Nataka[*] , which forms the basis for the rural performing tradition known by that name in southern Orissa.[53] The palace today lies in ruins, and no members of any Pathy family are known in the town.[54] ç None of Balabhadra Pathy's works is firmly dated. The fact that both archaic and modern forms of the letter a occur argues for a late eighteenth- or nineteenth-century date.
Some aspects of Pathy's work suggest currents from regions to the south of
Orissa. It is tempting to compare his round-eyed faces with so-called Paithan painting, or with south Indian shadow puppets.[55] Resemblance to the latter is greater than to the Ravana[*] Chhaya of central Orissa, discussed in Chapter 1 (Figure 46). Yet Pathy develops settings that go beyond any of the restrained props of Indian shadow theater. Conceivably his tangled bowers of plants and the flames that dance over the walls of Lanka[*] (Figures 173-74) evoke the general effects of flickering shadows as the puppets are held at an angle to the screen, rather than the literal forms of the puppets themselves.[56] ç Likewise Pathy's use of color, unique among Orissan manuscripts, is vaguely similar to a Telugu set of Ramayana[*] illustrations, where, however, there are no significant correlations of iconography.[57] ç Thus it seems that there are some links with the forms of Andhra in Pathy's work but that these must have permeated a bilingual area that included Ganjam District, file home of the very Orissan literature he chose to illustrate. Likewise the effect of his up-turned faces is like that of masks perched on the top of the head so that the actor can see through slits beneath the eyes, which were used in the Prahlada Nataka[*] and Ramalilas[*] of that very region.
We know more about the making of our third Lavanyavati[*] (Figures 175-93) than about any manuscript discussed here. This is the work of Raghunath Prusti, an artist and scribe of whose other manuscripts at least thirteen survive.[58] Hence his development can be traced. He was the son of an oilman of the merchant caste, living in the south Orissan village Mundamarai, where the Lavanyavati[*] and three more of his manuscripts; were preserved by the local families that originally commissioned them. In this case we know from oral tradition that this particular work was made for a more affluent merchant patron, who paid the artist in food for the few pages he produced each day.[59] ç He is remembered affectionately in Mundamarai as Ulu Chakra, an odd nickname that may mean "maverick."
Prusti's style combines archaism with natural touches, the latter perhaps deliberately minimized in the Ramayana[*] section of the Lavanyavati[*] to give this sequence a magic and legendary quality Here figures generally appear in profile, although Prusti elsewhere in this manuscript and in others presents a certain number of heads frontally or, occasionally; from a 45-degree angle. None of his fourteen works bears color, and it is clear that a meticulous use of line, more varied than that of the Dispersed Lavanyavati[*] , is central to the conception of his images. His designs seem unusually busy, with many figures about three-quarters the height of the entire page, often surrounded by air but sometimes embedded in dense patterns of landscape or flying arrows (Figures 191, 192). His facial type is. quite rounded, broadly following the conventions of pata[*] painting, which he may have derived from. the early nineteenth-century wall paintings of Buguda (some 30 kilometers from Mundamarai), discussed later in this chapter. At the same time, the depiction of the human body is natural by comparison with Balabhadra Pathy's inflated mannerisms.
On the basis of two dated colophons we can be quite certain that Prusti worked in the 1880s.[60] The Mundamarai Lavanyavati[*] may be among his latest works, for it is unfinished and the family that owns it preserves the oral tradition that he was an old man when he worked on it. Thus a date of 1885-95 seems reasonable. While pages of the Dispersed Lavanyavati[*] could never be confused
with Prusti's manuscript, the resemblance between the two is sufficient that a dating of the two based on pictorial style would make them nearly contemporaneous. Their style is thus one reason to entertain the possibility that the Dispersed Lavanyavati[*] , in many ways comparable, if with slightly fewer marks of modernity, was also a product of the nineteenth century
Finally a manuscript in the National Museum in New Delhi whose entire Ramayana[*] sequence is preserved will be referred to as the Round Lavanyavati[*] .[61] Its clarity led me to use it to illustrate my initial telling of the story (Figures 1-40). This manuscript has a distinctive handwriting, in which the circular elements are unusually large and regular. Curved lines similarly predominate in the illustrations, and there is striking assurance and simplicity of drawing. Thus the contour of the face often forms a clear circle, including the under-chin and the hairline. In this the resemblance to the conventions of pata[*] painting is even more striking than in the work of Raghunath Prusti. Schematic architecture and trees separate the scenes, so that there are no ambiguities in the narrative. And yet occasional frontal heads (Figures 17, 22, 36) and irregular touches (the way the tassels of the umbrellas in Figures 36 and 40 respond to gravity) do not belong to the most conservative visual conventions.
The Round Lavanyavati[*] has been mistakenly associated with the dated colophon of a second, very fragmentary, version of the same text.[62] While the date cannot now be precisely established, I regard this as a work of the nineteenth century—most probably the late nineteenth century, for its writing is extremely close to modern printing. The letter a occurs only in the archaic form, but this form appeared in some early printed books as well and continued in use as late as 1905.
Brahma Ramayana[*] .
My final palm-leaf example is enigmatic both as a text and as a manuscript; yet it is clearly not peripheral in artistic terms. This sole Orissan version of the Brahma Ramayana[*] was preserved in a matha[*] , or monastery, near Jajpur in central Orissa, and it appears to have been produced there by a Vaishnava[*] devotee (Figures 194-99).[63]
I know of no other manuscripts that seem to be the work of this same artist, although the style falls within a general formal tradition in illustration that is also linked to the professional chitrakaras. This link is most clearly apparent in the figure type—stocky, round-faced, the head seen in profile except for occasional iconic types. Among palm-leaf manuscripts, the resemblance is greatest to Vaishnava[*] works such as a copy of the Vidagdha Madhava ,[64] in part because many pages of the Brahma Ramayana[*] show devotees who resemble Krisna's[*]gopis. The eye follows a standard formula—elongated, the two corners slightly darkened, the pupil extending more or less all the way between the lids to produce a staring but not a beady gaze. Small touches of black and light red pigment occur throughout the pictures. What is most distinctive in this artist's work is the decorative effect created by elaborate borders at the end of each page, as well as by strong textile patterns and elegant arabesques of foliage.
The Dasavatara Matha[*] was founded around 1700, and if the manuscript was produced there, this date provides a terminus post quem. The writing of the Brahma
Ramayana[*] consistently employs the more archaic form of the letter a . Thus once again we can be no more specific about date than to suggest that the work belongs to the eighteenth or first half of the nineteenth century