The battle of the gods

By Tulsi Swarna Lakshmi

“Durga’s victory dance, Lakshmi’s dance of love,
And Indrani’s bracelet dance, so well done
That terpsichorean art touched its acme;
Was not Matavi descended from divine Urvaci?
The festival of Indra with its dances, decoration,
And pageants attracted visitors from heaven
Who came incognito and enjoyed freely;”

– Ilango Adigal, Cilappathikaram

A photograph of a buffalo, once a sacred symbol of black identity.

The water around it remains calm, save for the faint ripples near its neck, suggesting that the buffalo had turned its head only moments ago. Its unwavering gaze indicates a prolonged dialogue between the animal and the photographer. At ease and composed, the buffalo seems eager to hear what the man with the camera has to say. Or perhaps it is simply engrossed by the sight of the photographer.

Seeing and being seen form the essence of existence. Life would be meaningless without the ‘field of separation’ between the “seen” and the “seeing.” The ‘act of seeing’ connects these otherwise non-existent elements. Without an observer, existence lacks validation, and the observed may or may not have existed.

Photography too involves a tripartite interaction: the subject or object, the photographer, and the act of photographing itself. This act replaces the ‘act of seeing,’ creating a photograph that stands as a tangible manifestation of this interaction—like an offspring imbued with thoughts, actions, and expressions. Acknowledging another being, be it human, object, animal, or event, is an act of recognition—a silent form of communion that asserts, ‘I exist, and so do you.’ Aren’t photographs the best way to share what is “seen” with the world?

Whether the photographed subject is familiar or previously unknown to the photographer, the medium communicates meanings and interpretations through visual language. Like any art form, photographs can evoke profound emotions—joy, sadness, anger. They have the power to rouse one from slumber, compel action, induce despair, or rekindle vitality and enthusiasm. A single glance at a photograph can dissolve years of desolation, replacing it with boundless energy for life, love, and existence.

The ‘act of seeing’ always precedes the act of photographing, and the quality, perspective, and philosophy behind this act distinguish one work from another. A perceptive photographer knows what they are searching for and focuses all their attention on capturing the perfect moment. The photographer engages in an instantaneous process of inclusion and exclusion, wielding the power to dictate what the world perceives. Despite their pride, they remain humbled by the unfolding dance of life. Isn’t each moment, in its essence, complete unto itself?

Once captured, photographs are complete as they are. Or are they? Since the invention of photography, some conservatives have argued for straightforward expression, avoiding any modifications that might disrupt the purity of an image. However, avant-garde photographers have often violated these conventions, with philosophical, sociological, and aesthetic reasons for stepping outside traditional bounds.

Abul Kalam Azad’s early works exemplify this departure from convention. As a pioneer of the Indian avant-garde, his pieces frequently challenged accepted norms. For instance, “Violence Undone,” a 1995 series, featured mundane scenes, everyday objects, and nude portraits, eschewing the usual tragic and pictorial subjects. Scratched and doodled, these works abandoned the pursuit of print perfection, offering an originality that unsettled those who valued surface smoothness as an indicator of quality.

“Divine Facade,” created in 1996, shifted the focus from iconic buildings to human figures, questioning the colonial gaze that prioritized monuments over people—a perspective that has infiltrated contemporary politics as well. His analogue and digital hybrid works from the early Photoshop era, including “Untouchables,” “Senti-mental,” “Political Portraits,” “Three Lovers,” and “Digital Moon,” featured layers of visual manipulation, constantly challenging notions of reality.

While these experimental works share a fundamental interconnectedness, they invite varied interpretations. Azad’s photographs were further manipulated, altering dynamics and challenging the previously accepted belief in the reality of an image. Conversely, “Men of Pukar” consists of straightforward monochrome images, embracing the social documentary genre.

These images, seemingly effortless and honest, revel in their simplicity. They possess deeper cultural and sociological significance, tracing a 2,000-year-old shared history and collective lineage. The photographer’s intent to situate photographic series within broader sociological, political, and historical contexts distinguishes this work. Like the morning silence, profound ideas often emerge through minimal expressions.

In this body of work, the ‘photographed moment’ stands complete, not merely as a geometrical composition but as a condensation of past and future into a singular instant. It harmonizes movement and stillness, confronting viewers and disrupting their comfortable isolation. Like long-lost lovers meeting by chance, it reconnects viewers with their own selves, nature, and life.

The buffalo’s casual gaze, peering beyond physical barriers of frame or screen, evokes a deep connection shared between buffaloes and humans for generations. It recalls a time when buffaloes, rather than cows, were central to our lives.

Buffaloes are undoubtedly of Indian origin. Modern historians believe they were first domesticated for agricultural purposes before 2500 B.C. in Mesopotamia and the Indus Valley civilization, which extended to Harappa, Mohenjo-Daro, and parts of Gujarat, Rajasthan, and Haryana. Studies suggest they were initially tamed in the Indus Valley and later spread west to Mesopotamia and east to China.

Since their domestication, buffaloes have become integral to human life, serving as a major source of milk and participating in wars, transportation, and livestock. They hold a sacred role in iconography and ritualistic offerings. In Buddhist and Vedic philosophy, Yama, the deity of death, rides a buffalo, symbolizing death, power, and darkness.

Among tribes such as the Todas and the Kurumbas of the Nilgiri Hills, buffaloes are woven into the fabric of daily life, embodying wealth, status, and spiritual connection. The Toda people, for example, worship a sect of their buffaloes, constructing tall, conical temples dedicated to them and incorporating them into various rituals, including birth, marriage, and funerals. These animals serve as intermediaries between the living and the spiritual world, believed to guide the spirits of the deceased to the afterlife. The buffalo’s significance extends beyond utility; it symbolizes life itself, honored in festivals and ceremonies, and associated with fertility, prosperity, and community sustenance.

In mainstream Hindu mythology, Mahishasura was a demon who waged war against the gods, causing chaos and suffering. In response, the goddess Durga was created by the gods to defeat him. The story culminates in a fierce battle where Durga slays Mahishasura, symbolizing the triumph of good over evil. This narrative is celebrated in Durga Puja, where the defeat of the buffalo demon is commemorated. According to the story in the Devi Purana, Mysuru was ruled by the demon King Mahishasura who was a buffalo-headed monster. In response to the prayer by the Gods and Goddesses to save them from the demon, Goddess Parvathi, took birth as Chamundeshwari and killed the monster on top of the Chamundi hill near Mysuru. However, some tribal communities view Mahisasura not merely as a villain but as a hero who fought against the Devas to protect his people. These communities hold rituals in his honor, reflecting a more nuanced view of the mythological history.

Historical myths often amplify past events with greater meaning than the events themselves. These myths present themselves as authoritative, regardless of how much the narrated events diverge from reality. Symbolic landscapes, characters, images, and themes are infused with creativity to reshape cultural narratives. The story of Durga’s battle with Mahishasura reflects deeper historical and cultural shifts in Indian society. This mythological conflict symbolizes the clash between indigenous communities, who revered the buffalo as a symbol of fertility and strength, and incoming Aryan settlers, who venerated the cow. Historically, this narrative represents the dominance of Vedic Aryan culture over indigenous traditions, with Durga’s victory symbolizing the assimilation and subjugation of local beliefs.

Some suggest that Mahishasura was an indigenous king defeated during the invasion by upper-caste Hindus—a story aligning with the cultural shift of the medieval period when indigenous deities and practices were assimilated into Vedic Hinduism. Over time, the cultural representation of Durga has evolved. By the fourth century CE, images of Durga slaying Mahishasura—a figure depicted as a semi-male buffalo—spread across India.

Her festival, initially marking the harvest and celebrating her fertility as Shakabhari (goddess of vegetation), increasingly emphasized her role as a warrior. Unlike the nurturing deity revered today, the Durga of the Puranas was a fierce protector, sustained by offerings of blood and wine—symbols of the vital nourishment needed for her warrior spirit. This shift highlights the cultural simulacrum—a propaganda effort to transform Durga from a combative deity into a softer, maternal image, more palatable to the masses.

Symbolically, this represents the replacement of local beliefs. This transformation was not due to military might but a psychological and ideological shift, where rulers adopted new ideas of science and religion, diminishing existing beliefs and their practitioners.

The resultant loss of identity led to the fracturing of the Sangam society, characterized by an open culture. The introduction of Vedic hierarchical philosophy, supported by pseudo-divinely inspired texts, influenced all aspects of life post-Sangam. The concept of rulers as gods, introduced by the Vedic cult, altered perceptions of kingship. The idea of fixed territories and the rigid caste system emerged, redefining social structures. Non-believers and non-conformists were deemed untouchables, or worse, unseeables.

This transformation was gradual but left enduring scars, further exacerbated by colonial rulers. During this protracted period, buffaloes lost their central sacred role and were replaced by cows.

Yet, this shift also liberated buffaloes from being the primary sacrificial animal.

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Recent genetic research strongly supports the theory of Aryan migration into India around 2,000-1,500 BC, coinciding with the decline of the Indus Valley Civilization. While earlier mtDNA studies suggested minimal external influence, Y-DNA data now reveals significant male-driven gene flow from the Pontic-Caspian Steppe during the Bronze Age. About 17.5% of Indian male lineage belongs to haplogroup R1a, associated with Central Asia and Europe, which aligns with the introduction of key cultural elements such as the Sanskrit language and the Vedas. This migration led to the formation of the Ancestral North Indian (ANI) group, while the Indus Valley population, which lacked Steppe ancestry, contributed to the Ancestral South Indian (ASI) group. This genetic mixing persisted for 2,000 years until the establishment of endogamous groups, marking the emergence of the caste system. Exceptions to this ANI-ASI model, such as the Bengali and Munda populations with Southeast Asian ancestry, suggest a more complex genetic history.