Of lost traditions

This year on the Bishnupur trip I came across a rare example of Indian heritage. So rare indeed that it is only available here of all places in India. Just as a background, let it be mentioned that Bishnupur is a little town some 200 km to the north west of Calcutta. It is located close to the town of Bankura, which is the district capital of the same name. Bishnupur used to be the capital of Bengal at the time of the Malla kings.

Bishnupur is known for temples. The temples do not house any deities. Rather, they are noted chiefly for their unique style of architecture. In general the temples are based on a rock foundation, which is followed by a four sided structure held by pillars on each side. Each of the walls a richly decorated by earthen panels that are thoroughly worked with engravings. Engravings originate from the Ramayan, Mahabharat or from the general day to day life of the people of the time. The top of the structure is a curved roof - something like a tent. One may imagine it to be a four cornered handkerchief held at four corners, and buffed by the wind. The top is usually a single peak, often not very richly decorated, but examples of design with more than one peak exist.

What is truly remarkable about these designs is their indication of cultural origins. One may note the pillars to be not the typical Bengal style of architecture. Their girth, relief and contours seem to indicate towards some other origins. The allusion becomes clearer when one considers the design of the door panels along the walls. The doors, divided into small square panels, and having rich decorations in each block, are strongly reminding of the design of doors in forts and palaces of Rajasthan. This realization does reflect back on the design of the pillars, although their correlation is far lesser to the origins.

Another immensely interesting and yet intriguing observation came to my notice here. On one particular temple (Madanmohan) we discovered a carving containing a dragon inscribed on to the wall. I have not yet understood this well enough, and have no idea about how such an object can come into a predominantly Indian architectural style. Maybe those with greater expertise may be able to explain the same. Or again maybe it is a misinterpretation of some other creature which was originally intended to be drawn. But what could be most intriguing is whether Indian myths ever covered creatures such as dragons, or whether this could actually be the impression of some Chinese traveler in those far-off days whose own culture came to influence the symbolism of our own.

But this is not really the object of this writing. This writing is intended towards that one thing which is unique to this town. The object - an artwork for that matter - is called the "Dashavatar cards". These cards are fabricated by one particular family of artists in the town - called the Foujdar family, and they are the only ones in India in fact who have this expertise. The Foujdars - as one might suspect from the name - were once employed at high ranks of the military structure of the Malla kings. On the order of the king, they devised these cards.

The cards are essentially depictions of the 10 incarnations of Vishnu. The main pack comprises a central card denoting one of the incarnations - the "King", along with another primary card, called the "minister". This a backed up by a set of floral cards - 10 in number, having progressively 1, 2, 3 etc flowers, up to 10. This makes for 12 cards per incarnation, and a total of 120 cards for all the 10 incarnations combined. There are some secondary sets, of 10 cards (incarnations alone), 48 cards, and some other varieties.

The cards themselves, are not made of paper, but of cloth. Each card comprises 6 layers of fine woven cloth, held together by specially fabricated glues made from natural sources like seeds and fruits of plants. The picture of the cards is painted onto the cloth, and the colour too is made from indigenous rocks. The rocks (like sandalwood) are soaked in water and rubbed onto a surface to produce the colour. Some other varieties of colour some from flowers and leaves. The final product is glazed in lacquer and sealed into a circular shape. The general diameter of these circles is around 10 cms, but some varieties of larger or smaller sizes are also produced.

The card game is based on the set of 120 cards. Now comes the real problem - only the Kings of the Malla dynasty knew the rules and methods of the odd game that they invented with this pack of cards. The makers did not know how to play - they only prepared the cards as per order. The kings played it with a select group of people from the town - those who were close to the kings. This group of people treated the game as more than merely a game - they considered it more of a worship of Vishnu - and thus surrounded the game with elaborate rituals. The players had to sit in special seats, could not smoke or drink while the game was in progress, and neither could they leave from their seats without taking a bath to come back. To preserve the sanctity of the game, they refused to pitch it out before the common public.

Recently - somewhere in the '80s, the last of the Malla kings passed away. After that only the people from the families of the other players were left with the knowledge. The makers, now desperate to preserve this culture, as well to hold their business, tried very hard to learn the game. But they only managed to learn the basics, following a lot of persuasion, and this really did not get them anywhere far. The elderly players outplayed them easily, and refused to divulge the deeper secrets of the strategy of the game.

It so happened that one copy of this set of cards somehow made its way to a museum in Germany, and a woman there was intrigued by its possible origin and uses in course of her research. She came over to India after she maned to make contact with the makers of the cards, and tried to speak to the elderly players. Naturally they were reluctant to put out the ideas, especially to a foreigner, but finally she persuaded them to come and play in front of her for a regular payment of a large sum of money to each of the players. After 3 months of the labour, she managed to understand how the game was framed and she took back the knowledge to popularize this odd version of cards in Germany. This in turn spread out the game in France and USA, and the makers now mostly export the cards since very few people have the money to buy the cards in India. The price of the total set ranges from 6 to 12 thousand rupees, the cost mainly arising from ingredients like the colour and the gum which is very expensive to prepare, along with the great amount of labour that goes into its finalization.

What is really shocking and surprising is that almost nobody in India is ever aware that something like this exists. Someday we might go to Germany and be very surprised to find a new version of the card game, and marvel at their expertise and ingenuity. But we may never know that this wonder actually originated so close to our own homes. Not just all over India - people all over Bengal hardly know about this in general. For all its worth, its a tradition, a heritage, which is well on its way to being forgotten in the pages of history, and will only be glorified in the west through some other name. The poor card-makers, for all their skill and expertise, will one day fade away into hunger and poverty.

The marks of this nonchalant attitude are rampant all over the place. Many of the heritage sites are not well maintained. Timings of opening and closing are seldom properly observed. The temples are plagued by officious guides and irritating beggars. Overall, at least from a foreigner's point of view, the site does not produce an impression which it should for the worth of its content. I am not sure if we can do something about it directly, but I guess indirectly we certainly can, and we should, at the earliest.