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Just Like That | Art, obscenity, and hypocrisy: Why Mumbai Customs got it wrong

Oct 27, 2024 07:00 AM IST

The mandate of Mumbai Customs is to confiscate contraband, not pronounce moral judgement on great works of art.

I did not know whether to laugh or cry when I learnt that in March this year, Mumbai Customs had seized a folio of four erotic paintings by the iconic Indian artist, Francis Newton Souza, as well as a drawing titled ‘Nude’ by another legendary artist, Akbar Padamsee. Both these artists are among the most renowned modern Indian artists, with a global following that has sent the cost of their works skyrocketing. In fact, as members of the Progressive Artists Group in the early decades after 1947, they were pioneers in the evolution of contemporary Indian art. A Mumbai businessman had bought the confiscated paintings from a reputed art auction house in London. The Mumbai customs thought that these national treasures were “obscene”.

In this file photo, Artist Akbar Padamsee photographed at his residence at Prabhadevi in Mumbai, India, on Friday, August 12, 2016.(Anshuman Poyrekar/ Hindustan Times) PREMIUM
In this file photo, Artist Akbar Padamsee photographed at his residence at Prabhadevi in Mumbai, India, on Friday, August 12, 2016.(Anshuman Poyrekar/ Hindustan Times)

When the matter went to court, the Customs petition cited an earlier incident in 1979, when Souza’s manuscript for his autobiography featuring 62 drawings was seized by Delhi Customs citing obscenity. My good friend and writer-poet, Srikant Verma, vigorously opposed this outrageous transgression in Parliament. On this year’s seizure, the Bombay High Court aptly asked: "If we were to agree to the standards adopted by the Customs for considering a certain work of art as obscene and erotic, then what shall we do when we are confronted with our own temples at Khajuraho and Konarak?"

Thankfully, the Bombay High Court on Friday directed the Mumbai Customs to expeditiously release seven artworks by Francis N Souza and Akbar Padamsee, observing that the Customs officer cannot assume the mantle of being a spokesperson for community standards. “One such decision of Customs does not make the law on this subject,” noted the division bench of justices MS Sonak and JS Jain.

Among the many things bequeathed to us by British rule, perhaps the most amusing—yet pernicious—is the legacy of Victorian morality, which is completely alien to our sophisticated cultural, social and philosophical worldview. The ascetic Christian ethic of the colonisers was appalled by the sheer vibrancy and diversity of the Hindu faith, which harmoniously validated sensuality in philosophy and religious iconography as a part of a balanced life. According to the colonial critique Hinduism consisted of ‘unmentionable thoughts’, and the culture of the natives had ‘no moral codes—tolerating both polyandry and polygamy and countenancing the greatest sensuousness’. One hilarious illustration of this attitude was when, in 1862, Sir Mathew Sausse, a British judge of the Bombay High Court, pronounced a judgment emphatically critical of Krishna. In his judgement, his Lordship proclaimed that "all songs connected with the worship of Krishna which were brought before us were of an amorous character, (and) in these songs as well as stories both written and traditional…the subject of sexual intercourse is most prominent. Adultery is made familiar to the minds of all, it is nowhere discouraged, but on the contrary (this) great moral and social offence is commended."

A part contributor to this denigration of Kama was also, improbably enough, the man who played the biggest role in getting rid of the British: Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhiji’s personality and contribution were so towering that among his major achievements, a grateful nation also accepted some of his minor fads. One of them is related to sex and sensuality. Gandhi believed quite bluntly that sexual desire was bad news, an unavoidable human weakness that needed to be ostracised and eradicated. Perhaps some guilts associated with his adolescence, where, as per his autobiography, he succumbed to the temptation of being with his newlywedded bride, on the very night that his ailing father died, left a deep imprint on his psyche. Not surprisingly, at the young age of 32, he proposed to his wife Kasturba to join him in taking the vow of celibacy, which being a sensible lady she firmly rejected. In Sudhir Kakar’s fascinating book, Intimate Relations: Exploring Indian Sexuality, he quotes Gandhi: “The very purpose of marriage is restraint and sublimation of the sexual appetite. Marriage for the satisfaction of sexual appetite is vyabhichara or concupiscence….if (husband and wife) come together merely to have a fond embrace, they are nearest to the devil.” Vijayalakshmi Pandit, sister of Jawaharlal Nehru, writes in her autobiography The Scope of Happiness, that after her marriage, she and her husband Ranjit Pandit, were afraid to take the blessings of the Mahatma lest he ask them to take a vow of celibacy!

The combined legacy of Victorian morality, and its influential spokespersons, led to an enduring hypocrisy even after Independence, where kissing could not be shown in our films, and two flowers bending towards each other, or birds necking, were used as substitutes. It also led to illiterate Hindu evangelists harassing young couples in parks and dictating that women must dress like chaste Hindu naris, and generally labelling anything to do with sex or sensuality as anti-Hindu culture.

I think all such people, including those of the Mumbai Customs, should be taken on a tour — as the Bombay High Court alluded — to Khajuraho and Konark, made to read Vatsyayana’s Kama Sutra, and given a crash course on the enlightened acceptance of sensuality in the Hindu worldview. There are other countries where paintings used to be seized for obscenity. There is a story which famous Indian artist Satish Gujral would narrate with great relish. It concerned the painting of another well-known artist, Jatin Das. Jatin, who specialises in nudes, was having an exhibition in Dubai. His paintings were confiscated by the Dubai customs. When Jatin protested, the Customs official said: ‘Put some clothes on these women’!

The mandate of Mumbai Customs is to confiscate contraband, not pronounce moral judgment on great works of art.

Pavan K Varma is author, diplomat, and former Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). Just Like That is a weekly column where Varma shares nuggets from the world of history, culture, literature, and personal reminiscences. The views expressed are personal

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