Masks have had an undeniable existence in the history of visual culture of India. Masks act as a spiritual apparatus to performances that are esoteric and magical, used by shamans as acts of divine presence and the clairvoyance. In the districts of the Malabar in Northern Kerala – Theyyam is a calling of nature spirits by shamanistic characters who dwell in a sacred cove called the Kavu, where snakes of fortune from the Nagaloka inhabit as protectors of the forest. The Theyyam dancers dance through the wake of night enthralling an audience into ecstasy.

In the older parts of the city of Bombay, where once the native town stood - now more popularly known as Kalbadevi, merchants were once invited to the city to come trade, hold commerce and inhabit the environs of the port. Diverse communities from Marwar, Kutch, Kathiawad, Chawl, Malvan, Khandesh and Khambat migrated to the city to make money in the markets of cotton, opium and spice. Bringing with them long traditions of architecture and construction reminding them of home. The port of Bombay also did brisk trade in timber brought down from the forests of Mozambique - ebony, Mahogany from Brazil and teak from Burma. Ceylon - Sri Lanka, Mangalore, and Cochin would also send wood. The traders would use these woods from across the oceans and forests beyond the Western Ghats of Maharashtra to build pillars, beams and corbels of their stately homes, sandwiched between narrow streets and plots. To stand apart the frontal beams were intricately carved. Carpenters of the Mistry caste from across Gujarat would use wood that would withstand the Bombay monsoons and the salty air brought in by the breeze. In the past few years these mansions have been brought down and replaced by skyscrapers which now dot the ‘C’ Ward of the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation BMC’s burrow that makes up most of the bazaars, textile districts and temples such as that of the city’s Goddess Mumbadevi. Decongesting the area through high-rises has congested the skylines with gaudiness. .

Today the Heritage committee of the city is busy protecting old Neo-Gothic stone buildings that often get axed by enterprising realtors by way of corruption while these old wooden mansions fall and break away each day without notice. Their magnificent beams and brackets get sold by demolition contractors to the ‘Lakda Bazaar’ or the used wood market near the red light district of Kamathipura. Here they are stripped off their decoration to be made into planks for new age ikea inspired furniture. Raj Shahani was searching through these markets in the lookout for exotic woods for his sculptures when he came across a section of Corbels heavily carved from Kalbadevi and had been part of a Jain temple now converted to marble. They had been damaged during demolition and he decided to repair them using his technique of interlacing one material with a more precious counterpart to project an acceptable persona to a society that often forgets the ravages of time and age. It terms you ‘Khandit’ or broken, unusable and unnecessary. He masks them with a shining metal or pretense and acceptability. The Bikaner House in Delhi has an interesting melange of architecture that marries Rajput-Mughal influences with early 20th century functional formalism. Within the main building near the Darbar Hall or the Reception room face two Mughal circular courtyards on adjacent sides called the ‘Rotundas’. Each Rotunda has a marble Mughal water fountain reminiscent of Alhambra in Andalusia. The Rotundas are open to air and were made to bring in light and each one of them have a set of alcoves perhaps made for seating or to install sculptures. Choosing them as a site for his sculptures Raj intended to change the place into a grove of wood. We forget that wooden beams and brackets were once mighty forests that were exploited by Colonisers across Africa, Asia and South America for their wood to be used for palaces and institutions of the imperial state. The denudation of these forests is now a legacy we inherit with the climate crisis and the anthropocene challenge it leaves us post-colonial nations facing.

The metals are bounties of our earth not precious to each other but precious for their utility and effort it takes to mine and mint them. The play between wood and metal seeks an equilibrium of nature and consciousness Raj attempts with his showing of sculptures called ‘ Mukhowta’ or masks.

Raj Shahani places pieces of Burma teak behind shining plates of metal – copper, gold, silver, panchadhatu, bronze, tin, brass and steel, reminding us of the ethereal presence of materials used in sculpture, but it also hides something valuable behind by a veneer of a shining metal. That shining metal is our alter ego, our ‘Mukhowta’, the mask that we don hiding our real beautiful selves in wood.

He collected three corbels and their wooden stands with a few cupolas. The wood pieces were heavily carved but painted over many times to give them a new lease of life starting from the 18th century. The pillar bases had been covered with cement, plaster, paint and varnish. Seepage, collected water and years of rough use had worn the teak down. Teak is a wonderful wood that never gets eaten by termites and exists in the most harsh conditions for any other wood. Often used in construction because it has the might of concrete and the durability of steel. He took them to a car wash and had them cleaned under pressure, the water revealed more intricate carvings and patinas in teal green from the past as well as textures of the wood.

A ‘Makara’ is a mythical sea-animal that is semi-aquatic, often in the form of a crocodile or a Gangetic dolphin. It usually has a terrestrial animal such as a lion head or a bird like a peacock in the frontal body and an aquatic animal such as wide jawed dolphin or fish on the hind. Indian wooden corbels are where makaras are often seen and aesthetically act like gargoyles in Gothic architecture but here they have a utility of actually carrying weight for the wooden beams in the form of brackets for the roof or the wooden floor in multi-storied structures. Intricately decorated they have floral motifs such as vines with flowers and plumes of a peacock. The ‘Annapakshi’ a common makara corbel seen in Tamil architecture is formed by a Swan head and beak with a peacock’s bloom. The bird holds a vine in its beak as a symbol of being able to distinguish milk from water or truth from falsehood. The ‘Yali Corbel’ is a makara with a lion head, elephant tusks and an ox body.

Makaras bring protection, abundance, good fortune and beneficence. They act as the vehicle of Varuna - the God of Sea, the river goddesses Ganga, Yamuna and Narmada. They originate from Buddhist sculptural traditions as the seat of Buddha and wisdom and were later incorporated into Hinduism. Makara is a representation of the Zodiac sign Capricorn. The animals chosen to represent come often for their qualities mentioned in the Jatakas. When a makara is crowned by a peacock it often is symbolic of Saraswati, knowledge, wisdom and aesthetic artistic quality akin to the Buddhist Goddess Mahamaya or Ambika in Jainism.

Two of the corbels Raj found are makaras who are crowned by a Peacock perched by a parrot. The peacock is the vahana of Saraswati and Skanda or Kartikeya. The peacock refuses to kill snakes despite being able to, thus according to Jain belief it is seen as a symbol of non-violence. Its feathers are seen as a plume of compassion. The parrot is a bird of wisdom and determined in its faith, for it remembers and reminds us of the name of the ‘tirthankaras’ or wise humans in Jainism. They emerge through a vine of flowers and leaves that begin in the wide jaws of a dolphin makara. The car wash revealed intricate designs that not only have origin in coastal Gujarat but also from the Middle-East and Iran and maybe Zanzibar. The corbels are held on pillar bases which are both of Indian origin and some that hold Greco-Roman influences. The brackets once held beams together or joined pillars to the ceiling. They are less intricate and minimal but hold on sturdy revealing their age.

• Curator Name: Sumesh-Manoj-Sharma
• Email: info@anamkaraart.com