Creating An Indian Beauty, Ravi Varma Style

This painting shows the contrast between the architecture in the background and the people in the frame. The most haunting character in the frame is the little girl – the bleak despair in her face haunts you.

For an artist who had built his reputation upon paintings of princes and aristocracy, this subject was a departure from the norm. It also undercuts the idea of India as a land of exotic riches, presenting a de-glamourised take on the soothsayers from the subcontinent.

Ravi Varma's note that accompanied this painting that was displayed at the World Columbian Exposition 1893 read: "A model of a tribe whose profession is to wander from house to house telling fortunes."
This particular tribe was listed under the Criminal Tribes Act of 1871.

But Varma does not mention them being criminalised by the British - it is almost like he chose the subject and was attempting to erase the stigma attached to the tribe and instead focused the attention on human suffering.

Ravi Varma was known for painting historical and mythological lore. He chose the Indian Woman as the subject for his work displayed at the World Columbian Exposition as he wished to present to America the elegance and beauty of the many dresses worn by the Indian women.

The implication was that these were real women, rather than spun from an artist’s imagination. In many ways, it was as if Indian women were being brought out of their protected cloisters and being introduced in the public domain.

Yet, when you look at the model's exquisitely embellished joothis peaking out from under the sari – very grand! Except if you go by tradition, then not even a novice practitioner of Hindustani classical music would be seen near her tanpura wearing shoes!

What do these unrealistic details bring to the painting?

It is a sense of culture and opulence that would have been relatable to both foreign and Indian audiences, as this work was one of the 10 shown in Chicago.

Socially and culturally, the country was still a collection of principalities, with pronounced regional distinction. The way men and women wore their hair, the clothing, the design of the jewellery, all established where they belonged to and their position in local hierarchies.

The focus here is Draupadi unlike the one of Mahabharat who is full of courage and fire. As Sairandhri, she is alone, afraid, cowering and in need of protection because her husbands have concealed their identity and working as servants to a foreign ruler.

Notice a parallel?

Perhaps, Sairandhri was supposed to inspire the subcontinent the way Draupadi did, and perhaps she embodied the sub-continent, given the repeated violation at Keechak’s hands. Perhaps the sight of Sairandhri was meant to awaken the hero in all those who saw her.

Notice how Sarirandhri looks a bit like Yashoda from the previous painting. Looking back on Ravi Varma's work, what emerges clearly is that unless it was a portrait, the faces of many of the women were almost inter-changeable.

What distinguishes the women though are invariably the outfits and the props. Sometimes it is the expression but often the contours of the face and figure are markedly similar.

Sairandhri's oval face, thick brows, dove eyes and small rosebud mouth could well have been cut and pasted from the romantic paintings made by European artists.

There is a lot of documentation that shows how photography and art deliberately turned a blind eye to the nuances of darker skin tones. This painting is a great example of how dark skin tones can be rendered in oil painting, highlighting how it reflects and absorbs light.

It is not just the complexion that roots this portrait in realism, it is the way it goes against many conventions of portraiture.

For instance, the pose, the way the body is angled, her seated stature, the brass prop and the shawl indicates aristocracy, authority. This is a documentation of a matriarch in a social system that accords women authority and privilege. 

Yet, her brows are furrowed and you feel she is scowling when women in portraits are supposed to smile sweetly. The gaze at the viewer is direct and unwavering. It’s almost like an interrogation. She may not be pretty but she makes the painting beautiful!

Women like her in a matrilineal system made up the real women in the world that Ravi Varma grew up in. Even in this painting it appears that she is looking at you and is in control of the situation.

This painting, part of the works that Varma exhibited in Chicago, is a portrait of his daughter Mahaprabha. The note that accompanied this painting read: A Keralite mother clad in white cloth is preparing to go to the temple with her son at her arm. A dog is following.

The dog, a very common accessory in European paintings is entirely out of place in a traditional, upper-caste Hindu home in Kerala of those times. Also drawn from European traditions are the motifs on the carpet and the shawl draped on the chair. 

Most interesting is the title as it establishes an approaching father. It makes him a part of the painting despite the physical absence. The absent father extends his masculine authority into the domestic domain of the matrilineal system into which he did not have access. 

This was not realism but an indication of how Ravi Varma imagined a different Western and unitary family as the norm than was prevalent at that time. Ideas like femininity, intimacy and natural beauty are cultural constructs.

They develop because of the symbiotic relationship between arts and society. One influences the other and they both influence us. Ravi Varma’s paintings are a great example of this symbiotic relationships.

Once again the masculine element makes its presence felt through absence! Instead of showing shringar as a performance or classical dance, Ravi Varma presents it here as an everyday moment. 

It becomes immediately relatable and suggests a familiar intimacy with  the viewer. There is a hint of passion and romance, and it is not a coincidence that the sari painted here is red. 

The entire scene feels real even though there is nothing realistic about a woman with her hair loose and sari casually draped, being open to public gaze during his time.

This painting of the Reclining Nair Lady makes it seem as if the artist, and through him the viewer, have walked into the room when the lady is reading a book. She looks up to find someone there.

Never mind the jewellery and elaborate hairdo that is totally not causal, but from the half-smile and direct gaze you can almost interpret the interruption is welcome. This makes the scene both performative and intimate at the same time. 

Her pose is of studied casualness and is borrowed by Varma from the reclining nudes of European paintings that he had seen. Yet here he presented the lady's body in a traditional mundu.

The lady is very fair when compared to her helper, which brings in an ironic shift towards colourism when you consider that Varma's mother, mother-in-law and one of his daughters had darker complexions.

Fruit in hand, bejewelled, sari artfully dishevelled, this painting is full of rich colours and texture. You can feel the smoothness of the silk and the softness of her unblemished skin. The fruit, the look in her eye, she is delivering a message; one that depends on the viewer.

The sex appeal of the women Ravi Varma painted may have been intended for a particular hero and a general male gaze, but by virtue of the fact that these women occupy canvases on their own.

The women Ravi Varma imagined seem timeless, even as styles, aesthetics, politics and symbolism have shifted over time, and these women remain most relatable and recognizably Indian.

They embody a romanticized past with a confident sexuality that continues to resonate with the present. Perhaps the reason these women remain ideal is because they respond to the world around them but are not rooted in it.

The fruit may indicate fertility or pregnancy, another example of male presence being articulated through absence in a Ravi Varma painting.