My connection with the idea of Birth is rather intuitive and personal, which I bring forth though art and poetry. In one of the letters that KD Kohli, my father, wrote, be very sensitively spoke regarding the connection of a child with the mother's womb. He wrote about the introduction of feelings in the child from the mother even when it is still inside the womb, and how knowledge of things learned at this stage is pushed derp down in the subconscious mind by the shock of birth. The severing of the placenta is an unnecessary shock given to humans. Perhaps this act sets the child apart frons the mother and gives the child the status of an individual. This does not happen to the children of other animals, where the placenta withers away and separation is gradual, without shock
I find it fascinating how my own personal history holds stories that inspire me in my art and that also intersect with the thoughts and works of my other friends. Janet Chawla in her research on traditional midwives also talks about the placenta being like a second mother that keeps the baby nourished. It is the root, also called phool (Literally meaning the flower) of the child. Her documentary Born at Home (2000), documents very closely the midwifery process of childbirth in rural Rajasthan, Bihar, and an urban working-class area of Delhi. The significance of the placenta is reiterated by the midwives repeatedly in the documentary. At childbirth, the placenta is kept buried under earth nearby with gud (jaggery), and a fire lit nearby to ward off bad spirits. If the child is not able to breathe, heating the placenta brings hack life into the baby.
Interestingly, the phool (referring to the placenta) also seems connected to the floral lotus creepers in my paintings that flow around from the navel encompassing the entire frame. There is a story behind the importance of that lotus in my life. Around 1998-99, in the formative years of my painting, I had a farm in Gurgaon wherein I intended to have a lotus pond. I even brought in lotuses to be grown there Sadly, very soon, due to the indolent attitude of the gardener, all the lotuses died. However, in a few days, during the first rains of the monsoon, rain showered and the pond got filled with water. Lo and behold! To everyone's pleasant surprise, lotuses began springing up here and there, despite me believing there was not any trace of the lotuses left. On inspecting closely, I realized that I could not make out which stem was connected to which root and vice-versa. They looked all beautifully interspersed and intertwined. That gave me an immense sense of satisfaction! I was able to see the mythical connection with the navel lotus too. Our umbilical cords are connected to the Superconscious. In our illusory state, we think of ourselves as separate entities. But our breaths and lives are constantly connected to the Whole. In my paintings, this metaphor gets manifested in the form of the lotus creepers from the navel.
The celestial divine has manifested herself as unseen bodies making things happen around The birth of breath is a wondrous manifestation of this eternal throbbing of connected life an I witness the birth of breath every moment and wonder, "Kya tamasha hai! (What joyful wonder The eternal khel or play of changing forms is manifested in this game of breath. Birth and do are a constant play, just as the changing forms in Ouroboros’, or the desert becoming sea or vice vema I see the universe as this viraat roop (vast avatara) in the form of a woman that is feeding and birthing, making us die, giving us happiness and sorrow, the impermanence and momentariness, all of it
Birth has always been a fascinating subject of Indian mythology and religions. In religious mythology and popular belief, the making of the gods and goddesses and their birth plays a very significant role. It is often seen that the great gods and goddesses are never born from the womb the way ordinary humans do, but have mythical, fabulous, divine, and powerful stories of origin. Buddha was known to have been born from his mother Mahamaya's side and not from the womb. Surya the sun god was born out of a dead egg and hence called Martanda. Durga was created by specially bestowed powers by multiple gods. When the demon Svarbhanu's head was cut off by Vishnu's discus, the bead blew away into the sky, becoming Rahu, and the lower half of the body became Ketu. These fantastical births have been, for a long time, an intriguing matter of thought and interrogation for religious scholars, researchers. academicians, mythologists, as well as artists.
Anamika's fascinating essay in this book traces the birth of Radha, a female deity emerging in the early medieval Indian religious and literary scenario. The birth story of Radha is distinct from the myriads of these other mythological stories. Radha was not born, she was created, and everyone from aesthetes to seers created their own Radha. Roy takes us through the Gita Govinda, the four major Puranas (Bhogavata, Narada, Padma and Brahma Vaivarta Puranas), early dramatic texts, Abhira songs, among other literary sources, to trace how the figure of Radha was developed. We navigate through the ordinary gopi made into a heroine (in Gita Govindo), an absent Radha in Bhagavata Purana, the influence of Tantricism in the Narada Purana's formulation of Radha and much more.
Janet's essay in this book is only a fragment of her 25-year-long fascinating research on the traditional birthing practices across India. The fundamental drive towards her research is given by the understanding that the modern biomedical perspective is unable to admit an understanding of the cultural understanding around beliefs and ritualistie practices around birth.
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