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Journalism of Courage
An hour’s drive from Vijayawada is Mangalagiri, famous for its handloom saris and the twin temples of Narasimha. Mangalagiri has two temples: one at the foothills dedicated to Lakshmi Narasimha, the other on the Mangalagiri hill dedicated to Pankala Narasimha.
It was around noon when we reached the Lakshmi Narasimha temple. We scampered barefoot on the hot granite towards the temple, empty except for a gaggle of girls playing inside the mandapa. The sanctum sanctorum was quite dark, although illuminated by the radiance of the Laxmi-Narasimha deity. It is said that only the Laxmi on his lap can calm the ferocious Narasimha.
We were exiting the sanctum sanctorum, our minds set on reaching the hill shrine before the sun became more brutal, when our eyes fell upon a small rusted board in a dark corner besides the main corridor. Maybe it was the ‘Varma’ in it that caught our attention. When, on closer inspection, it turned out to be ‘Raja Ravi Varma’, we were thrilled.
The thrill however turned to despair, as we panned up to see the object that the board was meant to tout. The saffron wall it hung on was in far better shape than this poorly framed masterpiece depicting Narasimha tearing into the belly of Hiranyakashipu sprawled out on his thigh.
The painting slanted towards the right. We too bent our necks to see more clearly through the iron bars. The unrelenting heat and over a century of neglect had definitely taken its toll on this forgotten Varma. But there was no doubt about the style. After all, these very brush strokes had defined how we Indians visualised our Gods.
The board had more to tell. The now-forgotten painting was the “painter prince’s” offering to the temple during a visit in the late 19th century. The Raja must have stopped here while hopping princely states to paint the royals of his time. We were sure the temple touched a chord in him — there is something about the place even now; why else would he put its main deity to canvas. Or was there more to it? We will never know.
We left the temple thinking more about the discovery we had made than the climb ahead. Did anyone know about this Varma? Shouldn’t it be restored and sent to the Shri Chitra Art Gallery, which houses his other works? The Raja, himself, may have differed. Maybe he wanted his humble offering to go unnoticed. Like it has been for a hundred years.
