Kahlil Gibran once said, “We live only to discover beauty. All else is a form of waiting”. The truth is, while some people might be moved by these words, others will just move on. We've all heard the adage “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, and simplistic as it may seem, it does convey a deeper meaning. Like any other abstract value, beauty lies in context. How we come to perceive, respond and relate to our own personal notions of beauty is as complex and trivial a process as how we choose a paste to shine our teeth with.
Ambitious task
Alka Pande's Shringara: The Many Faces of Indian Beauty attempts the ambitious task of providing a multidisciplinary interpretation of this increasingly inscrutable process. At the outset it is clear that her concern is mainly with the classical tradition of beauty, one that is ‘ harmoniously unified' and ‘attractively splendid'. She defines beauty as, ‘essentially a value connected to the perception of different affirmative aspects of human emotionality'. There is no room here for what W. B. Yeats refers to as ‘a terrible beauty', one that is born of suffering, pain and other such ‘dark' places.
The writer's primary concern is with the expression of the erotic, or what is referred to in the rasa theory of aesthetics, codified by Bharata in the Natyashastra, as shringara rasa . According to her the defining moments in Indian art — whether they be in music, poetry, dance, sculpture or painting — are inspired by shringara , the portrayal of love in its various aspects. Throughout the book the writer seems stretched to defend this hypothesis by constantly stating in different ways that “erotic love was always perceived as a manifestation of the divine love of the gods and was therefore, completely accepted in society and liberated from its conservative imperatives”.
Structurally each chapter is meant to elaborate on the representation of shringara in the different artistic disciplines but the inter-connectedness of the content results in a lot of overlapping, with entire sections of text repeated. The reader is told time and again that Vatsyayana's Kamasutra , Jayadeva's Gita Govinda , Keshavadas's Rasikpriya , and the Radha-Krishna love story are perfect examples of the union between the sacred and the profane and of liberation through love.
The effort at drawing this link all the way from the art of the Indus Valley Civilisation to the present day results in plenty of research material, but not enough context or reinterpretation. The visuals while “beautiful” in their own right, often fail to correspond to the text or add to its understanding. The factual inconsistencies are often glaring, for instance the Natyashastra has been ascribed three different dates, starting with 5th century BC, then 1st or 2nd BC and finally the conventionally accepted, anywhere between 200 BC and 200 AD. In one of the more amusing errors, the year of the Battle of Plassey is given as 1857.
Greater problem
But quite apart from these details it is what lies at the heart of the matter that poses the greater problem. Beauty here is described as an ideal feminine and, one might add, fair object and the desires expressed are solely those of male subjects. There is no attempt made to represent women's voices in the issue of spectatorship. Alka Pande's nayika (heroine) never steps out of the frame nor gets the chance to frame her male counterpart. She is told how, when and what she desires, leaving little room for agency.
This lack of critical analysis of the subject comes across as complicity with a patriarchal Brahminical vision of female sexuality; one that is soft and sanitised. So while the writer does note that: “In a patriarchal society, the phallus came to symbolise the Supreme Being”; she continues to represent the worship and portrayal of the Shiva lingam as a prime example of the celebration of the male-female union. But then why has it always been referred to as the lingam and not the yoni-lingam ? If female sexuality was so unconstrained, why was/is a menstruating woman not allowed to enter a temple? On those days that she was permitted entry, why was/is she told to cover her hair so as not to “distract the devout men”?
That the shringara rasa has inspired many “beautiful” creations is unquestionable, but appreciation, does not require sentimentalisation. The writer seems to acknowledge this herself in her discussion on shringara in “living culture”, that is, of the folk and tribal communities. It is here she says that the “real notion of beauty operates intuitively, without ostentation or pretence...” If this had been her point of departure, there wouldn't have been a need for so much sublimation.
In the closing moments of the book, the writer wonders: “Has the morphology of the nayika been given up for more westernised perceptions? Do we simply venerate shringara as a holy relic of the past? Or will we have the courage to establish a new language for shringara ?” The reader might be taken aback by these questions, as there is no prior indication that these are issues that demand their concern. They might find it hard to respond with any conviction, since the ‘pretty as a picture' nayika never seemed real in the first place.
Shringara: The Many Faces of Indian Beauty;Alka Pande, Rupa, Rs. 2500.
