Navratna: India’s National Treasure Artists

This popular print, titled The Birth of Shakuntala, and based on an oil by Raja Ravi Varma, represents a melodramatic incident from the Kalidasa play. The male character, sage Vishwamitra, perfectly evokes a heightened sense of anguish through his  dramatic posture—legs placed behind one another as if in the act of walking away, chest jutting forward, face turned away in rejection, and hands splayed out in desperation.

Ravi Varma creates a moment of great tenderness as Yashoda milks a cow and the child Krishna extends his hand with a hopeful chalice, looking heavenward. The painter's mastery over naturalistic techniques is revealed in his handling of textures—the metallic sheen of the pitcher, the silken folds of the saree, and the smoothness of the animal's skin. The exquisite detailing of the jewellery gives them a rare luminosity, while the colours of Yashoda's attire echo the shades of the peacock's feather on Krishna's head.

An avatar of the Hindu god Vishnu, Mohini is supposed to have appeared during the great churning of the ocean, or samudra manthan, to arbitrate between the devas and asuras. Although her figure appears in many forms through time, including sculpture and patachitra, in many ways, Ravi Varma's depiction—with the fine detailing of the saree, the overhung tree, and her carefree posture on the swing—remains the most enduring one. Mohini's name derives from the Sanskrit word 'moha' which suggests her identification as a seductive and enchanting figure.

This popular print, titled The Birth of Shakuntala, and based on an oil by Raja Ravi Varma, represents a melodramatic incident from the Kalidasa play. The male character, sage Vishwamitra, perfectly evokes a heightened sense of anguish through his  dramatic posture—legs placed behind one another as if in the act of walking away, chest jutting forward, face turned away in rejection, and hands splayed out in desperation.

Ravi Varma creates a moment of great tenderness as Yashoda milks a cow and the child Krishna extends his hand with a hopeful chalice, looking heavenward. The painter's mastery over naturalistic techniques is revealed in his handling of textures—the metallic sheen of the pitcher, the silken folds of the saree, and the smoothness of the animal's skin. The exquisite detailing of the jewellery gives them a rare luminosity, while the colours of Yashoda's attire echo the shades of the peacock's feather on Krishna's head.

An avatar of the Hindu god Vishnu, Mohini is supposed to have appeared during the great churning of the ocean, or samudra manthan, to arbitrate between the devas and asuras. Although her figure appears in many forms through time, including sculpture and patachitra, in many ways, Ravi Varma's depiction—with the fine detailing of the saree, the overhung tree, and her carefree posture on the swing—remains the most enduring one. Mohini's name derives from the Sanskrit word 'moha' which suggests her identification as a seductive and enchanting figure.

This popular print, titled The Birth of Shakuntala, and based on an oil by Raja Ravi Varma, represents a melodramatic incident from the Kalidasa play. The male character, sage Vishwamitra, perfectly evokes a heightened sense of anguish through his  dramatic posture—legs placed behind one another as if in the act of walking away, chest jutting forward, face turned away in rejection, and hands splayed out in desperation.

Ravi Varma creates a moment of great tenderness as Yashoda milks a cow and the child Krishna extends his hand with a hopeful chalice, looking heavenward. The painter's mastery over naturalistic techniques is revealed in his handling of textures—the metallic sheen of the pitcher, the silken folds of the saree, and the smoothness of the animal's skin. The exquisite detailing of the jewellery gives them a rare luminosity, while the colours of Yashoda's attire echo the shades of the peacock's feather on Krishna's head.

An avatar of the Hindu god Vishnu, Mohini is supposed to have appeared during the great churning of the ocean, or samudra manthan, to arbitrate between the devas and asuras. Although her figure appears in many forms through time, including sculpture and patachitra, in many ways, Ravi Varma's depiction—with the fine detailing of the saree, the overhung tree, and her carefree posture on the swing—remains the most enduring one. Mohini's name derives from the Sanskrit word 'moha' which suggests her identification as a seductive and enchanting figure.

Gaganendranath Tagore was never formally trained in art but he learnt Japanese brushwork from Okakura Kakuzō and other visiting Japanese artists. In his early artistic life, he painted Puri's seaside landscapes, scenes from Calcutta, portraits, and other figurative sketches. This dreamy artwork, part of a series of landscapes, although executed on a small scale, shows exceptional detail. 

In an unusual interpretation of a war scene, Gaganendranath Tagore's Bed of Arrows focuses on a critical moment during the Kurukshetra war in the Mahabharata. The patriarch, Bhishma, has been incapacitated by a flurry of Arjun's arrows, as he waits to decide which his last breath will be. Through geometric forms and muted shades of rainbow hues, Gaganendranath evocatively captures this moment of transition. He would turn at least once more to the Kurukshetra during his career, when he painted a group of widows in mourning.

Gaganendranath Tagore’s caricatures were relevant to the times in theme and content. Equipped with a sharp wit and great capacity for fun and humour, the artist’s sartorial cartoons were scathing criticiques of the social degeneration of the Bengali bourgeoisie and the imperialist political practices of the colonial government. Owing to the success that his cartoons met with when published initially in various magazines, the artist would later go on to publish them collectively. 

Gaganendranath Tagore was never formally trained in art but he learnt Japanese brushwork from Okakura Kakuzō and other visiting Japanese artists. In his early artistic life, he painted Puri's seaside landscapes, scenes from Calcutta, portraits, and other figurative sketches. This dreamy artwork, part of a series of landscapes, although executed on a small scale, shows exceptional detail. 

In an unusual interpretation of a war scene, Gaganendranath Tagore's Bed of Arrows focuses on a critical moment during the Kurukshetra war in the Mahabharata. The patriarch, Bhishma, has been incapacitated by a flurry of Arjun's arrows, as he waits to decide which his last breath will be. Through geometric forms and muted shades of rainbow hues, Gaganendranath evocatively captures this moment of transition. He would turn at least once more to the Kurukshetra during his career, when he painted a group of widows in mourning.

Gaganendranath Tagore’s caricatures were relevant to the times in theme and content. Equipped with a sharp wit and great capacity for fun and humour, the artist’s sartorial cartoons were scathing criticiques of the social degeneration of the Bengali bourgeoisie and the imperialist political practices of the colonial government. Owing to the success that his cartoons met with when published initially in various magazines, the artist would later go on to publish them collectively. 

Gaganendranath Tagore was never formally trained in art but he learnt Japanese brushwork from Okakura Kakuzō and other visiting Japanese artists. In his early artistic life, he painted Puri's seaside landscapes, scenes from Calcutta, portraits, and other figurative sketches. This dreamy artwork, part of a series of landscapes, although executed on a small scale, shows exceptional detail. 

In an unusual interpretation of a war scene, Gaganendranath Tagore's Bed of Arrows focuses on a critical moment during the Kurukshetra war in the Mahabharata. The patriarch, Bhishma, has been incapacitated by a flurry of Arjun's arrows, as he waits to decide which his last breath will be. Through geometric forms and muted shades of rainbow hues, Gaganendranath evocatively captures this moment of transition. He would turn at least once more to the Kurukshetra during his career, when he painted a group of widows in mourning.

Gaganendranath Tagore’s caricatures were relevant to the times in theme and content. Equipped with a sharp wit and great capacity for fun and humour, the artist’s sartorial cartoons were scathing criticiques of the social degeneration of the Bengali bourgeoisie and the imperialist political practices of the colonial government. Owing to the success that his cartoons met with when published initially in various magazines, the artist would later go on to publish them collectively. 

Few artists are as adept at evoking indescribable moods through their use of shades and colours as Abanindranath Tagore. Although nature dominates the Untitled work, there is a hint of human presence. A small fire, overwhelmed by the surrounding darkness, glows in the stillness of night. Perhaps it is meant to be an earthly echo of the quiet presence of the moon.

Abanindranath Tagore's Bharat Mata quickly became one of the most iconic images associated with India's nationalist movement in the early twentieth century. Conceived initially as Banga Mata (Mother Bengal), the four-armed figure symbolised essential human needs—food, clothing, learning, and spirituality. It was re-named Mother India at Sister Nivedita's behest, who saw in it a truly modern symbol of India.

Abanindranath Tagore did not like to travel much although he did visit the temple town of Puri. This hand-painted postcard—one of many he exchanged with his student Nandalal Bose—frustrates our view of the temple by placing it behind a high mound, capped with shrubs. Beautifully textured using the wash technique, could Abanindranath be implying through a metaphor the partial clarity with which humans perceive divinity? He signs the card in Bengali stylised like the Nastalik script, perhaps gesturing towards the universality of religious beliefs.

Few artists are as adept at evoking indescribable moods through their use of shades and colours as Abanindranath Tagore. Although nature dominates the Untitled work, there is a hint of human presence. A small fire, overwhelmed by the surrounding darkness, glows in the stillness of night. Perhaps it is meant to be an earthly echo of the quiet presence of the moon.

Abanindranath Tagore's Bharat Mata quickly became one of the most iconic images associated with India's nationalist movement in the early twentieth century. Conceived initially as Banga Mata (Mother Bengal), the four-armed figure symbolised essential human needs—food, clothing, learning, and spirituality. It was re-named Mother India at Sister Nivedita's behest, who saw in it a truly modern symbol of India.

Abanindranath Tagore did not like to travel much although he did visit the temple town of Puri. This hand-painted postcard—one of many he exchanged with his student Nandalal Bose—frustrates our view of the temple by placing it behind a high mound, capped with shrubs. Beautifully textured using the wash technique, could Abanindranath be implying through a metaphor the partial clarity with which humans perceive divinity? He signs the card in Bengali stylised like the Nastalik script, perhaps gesturing towards the universality of religious beliefs.

Few artists are as adept at evoking indescribable moods through their use of shades and colours as Abanindranath Tagore. Although nature dominates the Untitled work, there is a hint of human presence. A small fire, overwhelmed by the surrounding darkness, glows in the stillness of night. Perhaps it is meant to be an earthly echo of the quiet presence of the moon.

Abanindranath Tagore's Bharat Mata quickly became one of the most iconic images associated with India's nationalist movement in the early twentieth century. Conceived initially as Banga Mata (Mother Bengal), the four-armed figure symbolised essential human needs—food, clothing, learning, and spirituality. It was re-named Mother India at Sister Nivedita's behest, who saw in it a truly modern symbol of India.

Abanindranath Tagore did not like to travel much although he did visit the temple town of Puri. This hand-painted postcard—one of many he exchanged with his student Nandalal Bose—frustrates our view of the temple by placing it behind a high mound, capped with shrubs. Beautifully textured using the wash technique, could Abanindranath be implying through a metaphor the partial clarity with which humans perceive divinity? He signs the card in Bengali stylised like the Nastalik script, perhaps gesturing towards the universality of religious beliefs.

Through his career, Nicholas Roerich produced multiple stage designs for operatic interpretations of Snegurochka (The Snow Maiden), a Russian folk tale that involves eternal forces of nature, humans, and everything fantastical in between. Although his most famous work in the theatre include Prince Igor (1909) and The Rite of Spring (1913) composed by Igor Stravinsky, the design for The Snow Maiden shows an evocative landscape, with a beautifully backlit forest of ferns. Roerich's use of vibrant colours and the inimitable sense of the sublime that mark his paintings are amply on display even in this work.

The Kremlin Tower of Novgorod shows a segment of the citadel in the ancient city of Novgorod, western Russia. Originally built on a pagan site in the 10th century, the citadel had been a strategic point in the area and even helped the USSR evade airstrikes during the World Wars. Evidently an earlier work by Roerich, the painting is unique in its lack of the bright, almost Fauvist, colours associated with later works by the artist on the Himalayan mountains, but his sense of scale is unmistakable.

During his stay in India, Nicholas Roerich resided in Kullu in Himachal Pradesh. Painted in 1929, shortly after Roerich was allowed to enter the country, this artwork is part of a series depicting the mountainous region. Spring in Kullu shows the vast expanse of the valley which gives away to hills and mountains in the distance. Amidst the greys and greens of the valley, the viewer is able to discern the glistening spring that makes its way downstream from the mountainside.

Through his career, Nicholas Roerich produced multiple stage designs for operatic interpretations of Snegurochka (The Snow Maiden), a Russian folk tale that involves eternal forces of nature, humans, and everything fantastical in between. Although his most famous work in the theatre include Prince Igor (1909) and The Rite of Spring (1913) composed by Igor Stravinsky, the design for The Snow Maiden shows an evocative landscape, with a beautifully backlit forest of ferns. Roerich's use of vibrant colours and the inimitable sense of the sublime that mark his paintings are amply on display even in this work.

The Kremlin Tower of Novgorod shows a segment of the citadel in the ancient city of Novgorod, western Russia. Originally built on a pagan site in the 10th century, the citadel had been a strategic point in the area and even helped the USSR evade airstrikes during the World Wars. Evidently an earlier work by Roerich, the painting is unique in its lack of the bright, almost Fauvist, colours associated with later works by the artist on the Himalayan mountains, but his sense of scale is unmistakable.

During his stay in India, Nicholas Roerich resided in Kullu in Himachal Pradesh. Painted in 1929, shortly after Roerich was allowed to enter the country, this artwork is part of a series depicting the mountainous region. Spring in Kullu shows the vast expanse of the valley which gives away to hills and mountains in the distance. Amidst the greys and greens of the valley, the viewer is able to discern the glistening spring that makes its way downstream from the mountainside.

Through his career, Nicholas Roerich produced multiple stage designs for operatic interpretations of Snegurochka (The Snow Maiden), a Russian folk tale that involves eternal forces of nature, humans, and everything fantastical in between. Although his most famous work in the theatre include Prince Igor (1909) and The Rite of Spring (1913) composed by Igor Stravinsky, the design for The Snow Maiden shows an evocative landscape, with a beautifully backlit forest of ferns. Roerich's use of vibrant colours and the inimitable sense of the sublime that mark his paintings are amply on display even in this work.

The Kremlin Tower of Novgorod shows a segment of the citadel in the ancient city of Novgorod, western Russia. Originally built on a pagan site in the 10th century, the citadel had been a strategic point in the area and even helped the USSR evade airstrikes during the World Wars. Evidently an earlier work by Roerich, the painting is unique in its lack of the bright, almost Fauvist, colours associated with later works by the artist on the Himalayan mountains, but his sense of scale is unmistakable.

During his stay in India, Nicholas Roerich resided in Kullu in Himachal Pradesh. Painted in 1929, shortly after Roerich was allowed to enter the country, this artwork is part of a series depicting the mountainous region. Spring in Kullu shows the vast expanse of the valley which gives away to hills and mountains in the distance. Amidst the greys and greens of the valley, the viewer is able to discern the glistening spring that makes its way downstream from the mountainside.

Nandalal Bose’s collage works on postcards most dramatically demonstrate his heightened perception of tactile objects, which account also for his deftness and resourcefulness with found materials and media. Torn by hand, Bose’s collages are nearly abstract shapes that magically transform into figures with the addition of a line here or a dot there. Retaining a childlike simplicity of vision, he brings a significant life force to these seemingly simple works.

In the late 1930s, Nandalal Bose found himself to be one of Mahatma Gandhi's favourites. He was frequently summoned to give a visual form to the ideals of a simply life that Gandhi wished to project through his politics, as in the decorations of the Congress sessions at Faizpur, Lucknow, and Haripura. Bose’s paintings reflected the daily cadences of people’s lives, their festivals and entertainment, the slow turn of seasons and the pleasures of a harvest, the street performers, musicians, singers and dancers. They were rendered in an expressionistic style, in natural colours that were found easily in the rural environs of the convention.

Today, Durga's idols appear in incredibly diverse visual forms during the annual celebrations of the goddess in Bengal. The tradition goes back a long way. Breaking free from the realism of the 19th century, artists like Nandalal Bose started experimenting with different visual traditions from near and far to represent the goddess. This preparatory drawing features an unusually muscular yet graceful form of Durga, far removed from the domesticated versions of Kalighat pats.

Nandalal Bose’s collage works on postcards most dramatically demonstrate his heightened perception of tactile objects, which account also for his deftness and resourcefulness with found materials and media. Torn by hand, Bose’s collages are nearly abstract shapes that magically transform into figures with the addition of a line here or a dot there. Retaining a childlike simplicity of vision, he brings a significant life force to these seemingly simple works.

In the late 1930s, Nandalal Bose found himself to be one of Mahatma Gandhi's favourites. He was frequently summoned to give a visual form to the ideals of a simply life that Gandhi wished to project through his politics, as in the decorations of the Congress sessions at Faizpur, Lucknow, and Haripura. Bose’s paintings reflected the daily cadences of people’s lives, their festivals and entertainment, the slow turn of seasons and the pleasures of a harvest, the street performers, musicians, singers and dancers. They were rendered in an expressionistic style, in natural colours that were found easily in the rural environs of the convention.

Today, Durga's idols appear in incredibly diverse visual forms during the annual celebrations of the goddess in Bengal. The tradition goes back a long way. Breaking free from the realism of the 19th century, artists like Nandalal Bose started experimenting with different visual traditions from near and far to represent the goddess. This preparatory drawing features an unusually muscular yet graceful form of Durga, far removed from the domesticated versions of Kalighat pats.

Nandalal Bose’s collage works on postcards most dramatically demonstrate his heightened perception of tactile objects, which account also for his deftness and resourcefulness with found materials and media. Torn by hand, Bose’s collages are nearly abstract shapes that magically transform into figures with the addition of a line here or a dot there. Retaining a childlike simplicity of vision, he brings a significant life force to these seemingly simple works.

In the late 1930s, Nandalal Bose found himself to be one of Mahatma Gandhi's favourites. He was frequently summoned to give a visual form to the ideals of a simply life that Gandhi wished to project through his politics, as in the decorations of the Congress sessions at Faizpur, Lucknow, and Haripura. Bose’s paintings reflected the daily cadences of people’s lives, their festivals and entertainment, the slow turn of seasons and the pleasures of a harvest, the street performers, musicians, singers and dancers. They were rendered in an expressionistic style, in natural colours that were found easily in the rural environs of the convention.

Today, Durga's idols appear in incredibly diverse visual forms during the annual celebrations of the goddess in Bengal. The tradition goes back a long way. Breaking free from the realism of the 19th century, artists like Nandalal Bose started experimenting with different visual traditions from near and far to represent the goddess. This preparatory drawing features an unusually muscular yet graceful form of Durga, far removed from the domesticated versions of Kalighat pats.

A majestic snow-clad mountain rises in the distance against wooded slopes in this early landscape by Jamini Roy. Much before his celebrated move towards folk art and the evolution of a new pictorial language that came to define his style, Roy painted academic landscapes and studies. This Untitled landscape rendered with impressionist brush strokes evokes the timelessness of nature, empty of all human presence. The majesty and solidity of the snow-clad peak is emphasised by its central presence in the composition. 

Often seen within the scope of a folk-modernist artist working with existing traditions, it is easy to underestimate Jamini Roy’s contribution to the evolution of modernism Indian art. Drawing inspiration from varied local sources, Roy created a distinct artistic language that was diametrically opposite to the academic realism taught at government institutions. The dancer in this Untitled work, presented in the tribangha posture, often seen in Indian sculptures, is a fine example of the artist’s trademark style. 

In Bengali Vaishnavism, it is Krishna, not Vishnu, who is worshipped as the supreme deity. In this work, the blue-skinned god, painted in his trademark posture while playing his flute, is flanked by gopi-s on either side, each draped in different shades of yellow and orange. The figures are framed within decorative cobalt blue borders, as if to complement the colour of Krishna. The painting is a fine example of Roy’s unique style of modernism which emerged from the fertile pictorial language of the folk artist. Roy’s lines, as seen in this work – much like the patua artist – are minimal but confident.  

A majestic snow-clad mountain rises in the distance against wooded slopes in this early landscape by Jamini Roy. Much before his celebrated move towards folk art and the evolution of a new pictorial language that came to define his style, Roy painted academic landscapes and studies. This Untitled landscape rendered with impressionist brush strokes evokes the timelessness of nature, empty of all human presence. The majesty and solidity of the snow-clad peak is emphasised by its central presence in the composition. 

Often seen within the scope of a folk-modernist artist working with existing traditions, it is easy to underestimate Jamini Roy’s contribution to the evolution of modernism Indian art. Drawing inspiration from varied local sources, Roy created a distinct artistic language that was diametrically opposite to the academic realism taught at government institutions. The dancer in this Untitled work, presented in the tribangha posture, often seen in Indian sculptures, is a fine example of the artist’s trademark style. 

In Bengali Vaishnavism, it is Krishna, not Vishnu, who is worshipped as the supreme deity. In this work, the blue-skinned god, painted in his trademark posture while playing his flute, is flanked by gopi-s on either side, each draped in different shades of yellow and orange. The figures are framed within decorative cobalt blue borders, as if to complement the colour of Krishna. The painting is a fine example of Roy’s unique style of modernism which emerged from the fertile pictorial language of the folk artist. Roy’s lines, as seen in this work – much like the patua artist – are minimal but confident.  

A majestic snow-clad mountain rises in the distance against wooded slopes in this early landscape by Jamini Roy. Much before his celebrated move towards folk art and the evolution of a new pictorial language that came to define his style, Roy painted academic landscapes and studies. This Untitled landscape rendered with impressionist brush strokes evokes the timelessness of nature, empty of all human presence. The majesty and solidity of the snow-clad peak is emphasised by its central presence in the composition. 

Often seen within the scope of a folk-modernist artist working with existing traditions, it is easy to underestimate Jamini Roy’s contribution to the evolution of modernism Indian art. Drawing inspiration from varied local sources, Roy created a distinct artistic language that was diametrically opposite to the academic realism taught at government institutions. The dancer in this Untitled work, presented in the tribangha posture, often seen in Indian sculptures, is a fine example of the artist’s trademark style. 

In Bengali Vaishnavism, it is Krishna, not Vishnu, who is worshipped as the supreme deity. In this work, the blue-skinned god, painted in his trademark posture while playing his flute, is flanked by gopi-s on either side, each draped in different shades of yellow and orange. The figures are framed within decorative cobalt blue borders, as if to complement the colour of Krishna. The painting is a fine example of Roy’s unique style of modernism which emerged from the fertile pictorial language of the folk artist. Roy’s lines, as seen in this work – much like the patua artist – are minimal but confident.