Gods Beyond Temples: A Visual Theophany

Throughout India since times ancient an idiom of simple forms has provided the language of
inward searching and outward expression and we have developed a whole vocabulary of
symbols and a grammar of rituals of expressing our relationship with the universe around.
Through these symbols and rituals we have been able to transform the vast and abstract
universe into tangible and palpable forms and shapes, both anthropomorphic and geometric,
and through the intermediation of these forms we have been able to establish a
communication between our everyday world and what we consider to be sacred and
mysterious. Through these forms we are able to experience and resonate with the rta or the
cosmic order and address the primal alienation of the human condition. Besides the two
classical traditions of India, namely Sanskrit and Tamil, or otherwise known as Aryan and
Dravidian, there is a third equally strong ans sometimes forgotten third stream of civilization
in the Indian continent and that is the folk or the popular or the people’s tradition. This
tradition belongs to the ordinary people who do not have the patronage of the royalty or the
nobility. They do not have sophisticated rites or grand temples and they express themselves
in unsophisticated shrines and unpretentious rituals. These people, though simple and earthy,
relate intuitively to primal forms and colours and there is in either plain expressions
something quite profound.

It is from the dark and mysterious prakriti understood either as the earth or the mind that
these popular forms emerge and it is these earth metaphors that then help them to reach the
sky, it is through them that they are able to transcend space and time and be a functional part
of the universe, it is through them that they express sour deepest fears and the joy of the
human condition. To that untutored and basic Indian mind divinity is everywhere and it is
therefore that they have not imprisoned their gods but have carried them beyond temples
creating a visual theophany all around them, whether it is in their homes or streets, their
clothes or the objects of daily living. It is because of this that divisions between sacred and
secular, high art and low art crumble and in the lived lives of these people, that the mundane
and the metaphysical, the immediate and the ultimate are one as they live our allotted lives.
What is ultimately important is the subjective experience of the people involved and the role
these sacred objects play in their lives and not whether or not they conform to classical
standards of art or beauty.

There is no other measure that one should apply to this genre of religious experience. Neither
proseletysing nor intrusive, always quiet and self-effacing, it is significant that this intensely
private religious experience is made public, for it is there where their life unfolds.

When it comes to the classical art and thought of India, whether Aryan or Dravidian, we have
developed a significant corpus of texts, both primary and secondary, and no discourse of any
classical issues can take place without reference to these texts. Here we are in the rarefied
world of the shastras and scholars, where the Vedic shabda reigns supreme, where the high
art of temples calls for an aesthetic response, it is the erudite milieu of ancient illuminated
manuscripts and court paintings, and the rich store house of museums and learned
commentaries in hushed libraries. However when it comes to the popular and everyday
religious traditions of India, the ethos of our streets and our homes, our worldly life and
concerns, the joys and pains of daily living, we have a living culture which can only be learnt
by sensitive and sympathetic observation and not through any shastras. We must suspend
hierarchal judgements and observe them with a sympathetic eye. We cannot turn to learned
discourses to understand these objects but we must walk the streets and visit homes to
construct the nuances of meanings of various artefacts that we see there, we must become a
part of their simple lives and try and understand how the streets and homes become a visual
theophany for them. We must put away our predetermined ideas and concepts, discard any
sense of hierarchy, the division into high and low, margi and desi, for this is the trend if we
ride the high horse of our classical traditions of art and thought. Instead we need to dismount
from our chariots and walk barefoot and become part of the living, vibrating and pulsating
presence of the gods of our streets. Even though this may seem plebian or ordinary at one
level they have a certain presence and reality of their own, they are an integral part of the
people who walk the streets and what is more important they represent something ancient and
primal in human civilisation. These people derive a certain meaning and obtain strength from
these road side shrines and certain objects of daily living, it provides for a certain order in
what would otherwise be a chaotic life. They are probably not driven by lofty metaphysical
concepts, nor do they do not seek a high brow moksha or nirvava, they may not know the
correct rites and rituals. But it is here at these shrines that they come with bare hands but with
a honest heart, there are no garlands and a simple petal will have to do, there are no priests
who can perform a proper puja but in its place ringing a bell or a gesture of devotion suffices,
there are no yajnas here but an unpretentious lamp takes its place. Here at these
unsophisticated shrines there is a direct transaction between devotee and deity, the issues are
not transcendent but those of mundane life at its barest, where divine intervention is sought
not for a transcendent moksha or nirvana but for mere survival, where thanks are offered not
for grand successes but for the basic gifts of life.Most ancient civilisations have turned to
naturally occurring and unhewn stones to find these earth metaphors and is through these
stones that they have been able to express themselves. Stones are perhaps the oldest form of
matter and if it is a meteorite it becomes even more cosmic A stone is never considered dead
but in their antiquity we have found a certain timelessness and permanence, in their strength
we have found power, in their natural shapes a meaning and in their arrangement a basic
structure and schema of the cosmos. When a tribal community set up their settlement they
made a ring of stones so as to contain their spirits and ancestors. Many ancient civilisations
created a pillar of natural stones and this took on a sacred meaning. Naturally occurring river
stones are important to us. Egg shaped stones from the Narmada are worshiped as banalinga
and stand for Shiva and the black stone from the Gandaki river in Nepal, the shaligrama,
which when cut open have a chakra shaped fossil inside them which are considered a sign of
Vishnu. Naga stones are placed at the bottom of a tree to mark the sighting of a snake and this
becomes a shrine as both the tree and the snake are considered divine. A vertically placed
stone especially at the bottom of a tree, particularly a pipal tree, evokes a sense of the sacred
and becomes a road side shrine where people worship. Very often the stone would be painted
red with vermillion and thereby it acquires even greater importance and becomes almost an
idol or icon as red is the colour of fertilty. Certain natural markings on a stone make it even
more precious, markings such a third eye or the tripundra which connects it unmistakably
with Shiva. It is not only the stone itself but the verticality of it that is important as a
horizontal stone suggests finality and would be used on a grave, while an upright stone is a
stairway to the skies. River stones are also very special. Rounded stones from the Narmada
are considered to be a manifestation of Shiva and those from the Gandaki river in nepal, also
called shaligrma are considered to be a manifestation of Vishnu. If ordinary roadside stones
acquire so much importance it is not hard to imagine how much more sacred caves and
mountains would be to the Indian mind.

If stones are ancient and connote divinity earth is the primal source of energy and growth,
fertility and fecundity. It is the mother of all creation and the final resting place of all that
lives and must eventually die. In it are our ancient memories and the foot falls of our saints
and rishis our ancestors and forefathers. And when earth or clay is worked by our hands and
it takes a certain palpable form it carries with it these impressions and when that form is
baked or fired in a kiln it acquires a certain presence. Clay images from times ancient were
discovered in the Indus valley civilisation and from Chandraketugarh. Images of Ganesha or
Durga are made from clay, lovingly worshiped and then returned to the river or the sea.
Votive terracota horses are a speciality of the adivasis in Gujarat and offered to tribal gods or
ancestors. The rural people of Tamilnadu offer votive terracota horses to Aynnar and other
rural deities. These horses are an embodiment of energy and strength and are offered as
thanksgiving for a divine favour received or as petition for protection for the community and
used thus horses assume a mythic presence of their own and are an intermediary between the
human and the divine.

That very life giving earth when applied on walls is another intermediary between man and
divinity. Walls of homes, especially those that contain the door, are particularly important as
they face and invite the world. It is the gateway to the home, it is here that the presence of the
gods is invoked to bless the home and its inhabitants and ensure their peace and prosperity, it
is here that guests are received and it is from this door that the family will leave their home to
go out into the world for commerce and adventure, it is here that the new bride is received as
she becomes a part of the family. Doors and thresholds are very special in the life of the
family, it is the junction between the security and comfort of the home and the chaos and
uncertainty of the world, it is here that Ganesha was born and Narasimha killed xxxx.
Adornments on the outer wall of the home and the threshold such as rangoli, a kalash, the tree
of life and Vishnupada are not just decorations but visual prayers, an invocation to the gods
to protect and bless the home, to ensure its well being, and give it strength to face the
challenges of the world.

The tree is one of the most important living metaphors and is a part of not only the Hindu but
equally Buddhist and Jain classical thought and art. The bodhi tree of the Buddha, the
kadamba of Krishna, the parijataka of Indra, the ashwattha of the Gita are only some of the
many trees that appear in the classical literature. Arising from the earth and growing as if to
touch the sky it becomes the aixs mundi that connects the heaven and the earth. It is the
primal stambha or the pillar that links it directly with the Indra stambha. It has been
considered the abode of yakshis or tree spirits and also of ghosts. Through its growth,
flowering and fruition and eventual decay it is a visible sign of the cycle of birth and death.
Changing with the seasons it is a visual reminder of the cyclical nature of time. On our streets
however a tree provides shade and shelter, a place to rest and even to sleep, to commune and
gather, it provides a refuge from the chores of the day but above all in the midst of man made
structures of a city it is a natural shrine, a living temple. A walk down any street shows how
the tree becomes a shrine in different ways.A simple stone at its roots, a picture attached to its
branches, threads tied to its trunk, wishes and payers tied in a piece of cloth, an image placed
under its shelter, the markings on it suggestive of divinity are some of the many ways in
which the tree becomes a road side shrine.

Rags or chindis as they are called in the bhashas play an important part in these road side
shrines. Torn from an old but treasured sari or odhni or dhoti, but never from a new fabric,
these rags are repositories of treasured family memories and in it is wrapped a chit of paper
on which a wish or a prayer in written and then entrusted to a branch of a tree. Torn from an
old sari or odhni the rag has ben a companion to the woman, it has wiped her tears and felt
her heart throb, it has given her protection and has within its folds precious memories. A new
fabric would not have all this and besides a new fabric is generally used as a shroud.
Journeys are an important part of our lives and what makes journeys possible are our chariots
and carts, our cars and scooters and the need for divine blessing is perhaps even more
important here than elsewhere. Much of the Indian psyche is rooted in rural agricultural
economy where cattle, whether they are harnessed for bullock carts or for the plough are an
integral part of the household and are adorned and cared for. The urban Indian carries these
same feelings when it comes to cars and shrines and other sacred talismans are given the
pride of place on the dashboard. When it comes to trucks and other transport vehicles sacred
images and mantras adorn its many sides and are important to the driver who undertakes
many an arduous and lonesome journey in pursuit of his livelihood.

The world of animals is never far from the divine for us in the Indian traditions. Animals are
the vahanas of gods and goddesses and in a mainly rural and agricultural civilisation like ours
are a part of our lives. Animals are mythified and venerated, worshiped and celebrated. The
cow takes pride of place and even on a busy city street people take time to feed her and take
her blessings as they hurry towards their busy schedules. The Nandi bull assumes another
significance and is given psychic powers in solving household problems or predicting the
future. The snake, and the naga in particular, has a divinity all its own. Living in the nether
world it is feared and worshiped. On special days it is fed and even in its absence it is
invoked by stones kept at the bottom of a tree. On ritual objects the presence of the snake
sanctifies the object as on a votive lamp or a spoon. Pigeons are messengers, parrots tell
stories but the lowly crow has a special function in ceremonies of the dead.

Rationalist and monotheistic religious traditions might dismiss as either pagan or polytheistic
the concept and the ethos of gods beyond temples of the Indian tradition. However these gods
remain an important part of the Indian psyche. The rationalists may call it superstitious, the
non-believers among us are simply amused and tourists are just curious at the phenomenon.
However it must be remembered that the Indian mind delights in the mystical and the
arational. For us myth is not just a fanciful or ficticous story but another way of
understanding truth and therefore a source of knowledge. The sacred and the secular for us
are not fragmented into opposite polarities but one continuum, where the sun and the moon,
the stars and the rivers are not just natural phenomena but express the grandeur of the
universe, where tress and creepers are not just objects of nature but the sap that flows within
them is no different from the rasa that animates us and therefore we feel connected with
them., where gods are not in a distant temple but woven into our daily lives and close to our
everyday objects, where festivals are celebrated at special times but no time is inappropriate
for us to be in the company of what we consider sacred, where we have an honored place for
our priests and the ritual that they perform but equally we have direct access to the sacred and
the divine, where nothing is mundane, no problem so banal that we cannot seek divine
intervention, no state of the human condition that cannot relate itself to the sacred and the
divine. A special feature of gods beyond temples is that while our feelings may remain
private the visible expression of our evocation of the divine is public, out on the streets and
under trees, not far from the footfalls of humanity and the clamour of commerce, for in this
way we feel secure that the world of gods is very much a part of our everyday world and not
in a distant silent temple, visible and the palpable, accessible to our everyday emotions,
ensuring that the earth upon which we find out paths and the sky above which is a celestial
blessing and the space between is hospitable not hostile, and in our onward journey this
remains a theophany.

While recognising the talents and contributions of art historians and their latest off spring the
historian of visual studies, and even more expressing a sense of gratitude to historians for
bringing a certain rigor and objectivity in the study and engagement with objects of beauty, as
a philosopher of the arts I must strike a discordant note, and I do hope that this note though
discordant, will be heard with kindness by the learned assembly of art historians gathered
here. When one surrenders a visual image, be it two or three dimensional, on paper or on a
wall, in a temple or by the roadside, in bas relief or in the round, to the naked human eye, the
faculty of pratyaksha or direct perception comes into play and that eye will then faithfully
register all the sensual data that is presented to it. Then there is the trained eye which will go
even further and pick up details of the image that the ordinary gaze misses and record
subtleties and nuances of that image that the ordinary eye has missed. But the eye has it
limitations and if the observer stops short at that a limited or truncated enjoyment of that
image results. For the sensitive mind does not stop at the eye, for that mind there is a mind of
the mind and in that mind of the mind there is an eye of the eye and it is here that the all
important faculty of kavyanumana or poetic inference takes place. Inference adds to the
richness and vitality of that image, it is here that the various rasas are tasted, for rasa are
always suggested and never overtly expressed, the metaphors decoded, symbols understood
and is then that the picture comes alive. Even more importantly it is then that the viewer
becomes a shrdaya, at one heart as it were with the artist, and it only a shardaya who then
truly enjoys that image. Unless one becomes a shardaya there will be always something
“wrong with the image”.