Brushed Aside

ART, for renowned art-writer R.A. Scott James, was to be determined not by the "needs of action" but by the "imperative of demands of vision". Bihar’s three main schools of folk art - Madhubani, Manjusha and Jadupatua - it seems, need both for their survival.
While Madhubani’s been able to find some patrons, the other two have largely been forgotten and figure only occasionally on museum murals. Besides, years of apathy have forced artists to abandon their traditional art. It’s telling that Manjusha art is today confined to its lone practitioner - Chakravarti Devi, who spends her days in penury with her grandson in Champanagar, Bhagalpur. Rues she: "Manjusha is no less rich than Madhubani but it seems this art will vanish with my death."

Like Madhubanis, Manjushas too are pictorial reflections of folklore, poetry and the larger cultural consciousness of the region. Says Udai of Paridhi, a socio-cultural organisation working for Manjusha’s revival: "Due to financial hardships, lack of government and media support and poor reception from artists across the country, this rich traditional art of Anga Pradesh (Bhagalpur) hasn’t received the kind of attention Madhubani has, but has more potential than others." He, in fact, prefers to call Manjusha art "Angika art, as it took birth and flourished in this Angika region".
Manjushas are considered by many as modern art, due to their form and abstract themes. This is why the art-lover who discovered them for the outside world, W.G. Archer, an ics officer who worked in different parts of Bihar between ‘31 and ‘48, compared them to the works of Picasso and Jackson Pollock. Archer, in fact, took some of these paintings to the India Office Library in London as part of the Archer Collection.

The Manjusha or the border lining the work is often criticised as merely the "ceremonial" part of the painting, but it’s what sets them apart. A temple-shaped structure with eight pillars, it often has swirling snakes depicting the central character Bihula’s tale of love and sacrifice. Manjushas, thus, have often been referred to as ‘snake paintings’ by Westerners, including Archer. Other motifs figuring prominently in these paintings are drawn from nature, be it the sun, the moon, fishes, sandal or bamboo, each with its own significance in the folklore. Unlike Madhubani, Manjushas are painted only in three colours - red, yellow and green - on a black background.

According to legend, Manjusha art traces its origin to the Bihula-Vishahri or Mansha folktale, popular in erstwhile Anga Pradesh and found also in an altered form in West Bengal. The paintings are drawn primarily on the occasion of the Bishari puja, celebrated usually in August to propitiate the snake gods. As Bihula’s boat was decorated by a character called Lahsan Mali, this art has been confined to the Mali or gardener caste. Chakravarti Devi, too is of this caste. Today, she paints only on demand, because as a profession it’s not enough to earn her a living. Professionals like textile designers and a few interested patrons pay something for her survival but "for the survival of this art, no one bothers", she says. Her 18-year-old grandson, himself a Manjusha painter, is now thinking of opening his own music cassette shop.
It was only last year when the Bihar chapter of the Lalit Kala Akademi conducted a workshop on this art in association with Unicef in Bhagalpur that it honoured Chakravarti Devi with Rs 450 and a certificate of her participation. Sadly, this is the only award the artist’s got till date. Even this was made possible by the efforts of the Akademi chairman, Mahesh Kumar Sinha, who feels anguished over how priceless folk arts of the state have been left to perish. "Because of bureaucrats manning the Lalit Kala Akademi and lack of government funds, Bihar’s folk arts like the Manjusha and Jadupatua are facing the danger of becoming extinct," Sinha told Outlook. A sad fate indeed for the art and the artist who’ve enriched our national heritage.