Tukaram Gatha in 3D

In his new book, artist Bhaskar Hande deconstructs the rich visual vocabulary of 17th century-Marathi saint and poet Tukaram Maharaj’s abhangs through silkscreen prints and sculptures

Shuttling between The Hague in Netherlands and Pune in pandemic times is not an easy task for anyone, least of all an artist operating from two distinct studio spaces. But sculptor-painter Bhaskar Hande, 65, has not just managed the cross-continental distance since 1984, but also a lifetime passion—celebration of the super-evocative visual vocabulary of 17th century-Marathi saint and poet Tukaram Maharaj. 

Hande is currently in Pune for the release of Vi Cha Kela Thoba (Vishwakarma Publications, R200), the second work in a book series that deconstructs visual images, metaphors and similes in the saint’s devotional Gatha. Of the total 4,500 abhangs (a poetic form), Hande articulates 41 creations in three-dimensional objects/sculptures and silkscreen prints. The reader is taken on a picturesque journey in which each abhang is explained in literary terms, and then distilled through the crucible of chromatic perceptible visuals, which are resident in verse, but unseen to the reader.

Bhar (weight), as defined in a sculpture made of jute and wood

Hande says Saint Tukaram’s words are works of a wordsmith—he roots concepts like gati (speed), beej (seed), dvait (duality), bheda (difference), and bhar (weight) in a distinct aesthetic and a supple expression. Bhar, for instance, manifests as a multi-layered verb in Marathi. It is used in present day bureaucracy, limericks, litigation and academia, thanks to Tukaram Gatha. If the reader is trained to tap the visual connotations, words can come to life more imaginatively. Hande’s book series is therefore, a step in that direction.

“Why is it that many take to singing Tukaram bhajans, but only a few see rich images in lines like Sundar te dhyan ubhe vitevari kar katavari thevunia,” asks Hande, who sees a full-scale pen portrait of Lord Vithoba, poised on a brick, hands rested on the waist where a yellow silk garment is tied majestically, basil leaves woven in his necklace, and fish-shaped earrings shining gloriously.

Lord Vithoba in an abstract portrait

In his new book, Hande arrests the saint-poet’s description of the Lord in an abstract form. His colourful silkscreen print—created in The Hague for a graphics biennale in 1996—includes features like the brick, the pitamber, tulsi leaves, and poised feet.  In a non-realistic idiom, he etches the unmistakable Pandurang avatar.
Hande is inspired by the visual vocabulary of a saint, who lived in Pune’s Maval region centuries ago.  His own landowning Maratha family hails from Umbraj district in Pune division, three hours from both Dehu and Alandi, the birth place of saint Tukaram, and the shrine of  13th century-poet and philosopher Saint Dyaneshwar respectively, whose literary works shaped modern Marathi language.

Hande’s bilingual writings—be it the artbook Your Form Is My Creation (1995) or Pilgrimage Vaari (2015) on the famous annual Palkhi to Pandharpur—are influenced by his identification with the Varkari philosophy.

A devotee, an integral part of the Lord he worships, comes alive in Hande’s sculpture made of aluminium/iron

Little wonder that Vi Cha Kela Thoba—idiom from a Tukaram abhang, which decodes the name Vi-tho-ba as the loving centre of knowledge—is created in Hande’s time-space continuum, spanning four decades of experimentation.

Making the reader privy to his thought channels, Hande shares the precise text, which gave birth to 2D and 3D forms in his mind. He dwells on the colours—grey, black, violet, green, and yellow—infused by Tukaram’s poetry.  He explains the use of circles and squares, which denote the human form and the cosmos surrounding it. He also addresses the gendered references that manifest in the poetry, particularly the delineation of the Rukmini/Rakhumai persona. Hande hints at Rukmini either by use of feminine exuberant colours, floral patterns or intricate motifs like the ones seen on saree fabric. His sculptures arrest the Lord in geometric patterns, where the male-female distinction is denoted in discrete hair styling. Rukmini’s bun is unmissable.

In Hande’s sculptures the male-female distinction is denoted in discrete hair styling

For Hande, the primary purpose of the book is to demystify saint poetry and awaken the reader to the joy of locating visual treasures. In chapter after chapter, he demonstrates the shapes emerging in his own consciousness, when he reads Tukaram’s compositions on metaphysical concepts—anant (unending), antardyan (intuition), bhakt (disciple) and samadhi (meditative state).  Hande says the 17th century-poet unravels in a visual parlance. Hundreds of poets may have described samadhi in rosy purple prose, but the saint’s terse lines on the lamp lit inside, arrives at the idea of samadhi powerfully. “The no-frills organic expressions—phitale sutak janma maranache—indicate the liberation from the woes related to life and death.”

The 124-page book is navigable in two colour schemes—17 black-and-white sculptures in the first half, followed by 24 colourful silk screen prints in the latter. Many of these art objects are currently in the artist’s Aundh studio named Vaishwik.  Despite lockdown, he has kept the 1,500-odd works (450 giving a face to Tukaram’s poetry) open to public view, subject to prior appointments. His art works reintroduce the saint’s worldview to modern-day Maharashtrians, whose everyday lives are not necessarily touched by the rich literary resources of their land. In this context, the visual rendering of one abhang, urging people to at least once experience the annual Vaari—kara ek khep/man na lage hindave—seems like Hande’s invite to Vaishwik.

Hande’s love for Saint Tukaram has another Pune connection—the late poet-critic Dilip Chitre, most remembered for Says Tuka, the English translation of select devotional poetry of Saint Tukaram. The friendship dates back to 1978, when both collaborated in the first International Trade Fair at Delhi’s Pragati Maidan. Hande was a young graphic designer, still pursuing his diploma in Applied Arts from Sir JJ School of Art, Mumbai.  Chitre soon referred him in an ad agency, where he was a partner.  Hande’s years as a copywriter-visualiser therefore, paved the way for creative collaborations with Chitre, which continued in India and Netherlands. Hande illustrated storyboards of Chitre’s Hindi films like Godam and Vijeta.

Hande’s talents as an adman and billboard-maker are notable. He started by making publicity boards for iconic Hindi films like Aradhana, Charas and Nagin in the 1970s, though, nothing could beat the joy brought by the record popularity of Jai Santoshi Maa posters. Billboards form an amusing backdrop to his monumental design learning in The Hague. “I was lucky to handle art work in different scales and mediums.  Also billboards sensitised me to the need for publicising one’s work; the idea of a ready work catalogue is central to any artist’s exhibition.” Hande says the discipline of an adman served him well later, in Netherlands.

He presents a cosmos of possibilities, colours, textures, shapes and shades to the reader of Vi Cha Kela Thoba. His book series also builds on a range—the first concentrates on lithographs, the second rests on sculpture, and the upcoming third on chalk drawings and oil pastels on paper.  He leaves no media unturned in his bid to create curiosity in pictorial saint poetry. He constructs a thoroughfare on which new poets, linguists, artists, history students, even people proud of Maharashtra’s heritage—just about anyone—can walk, free and forever.

Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a culture columnist in search of the sub-text.  You can reach her at  sumedha.raikar@mid-day.com

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