Tiger of Mysore

This is only the second time that these paintings have been

shown as a cycle in the last 30 years, and the first time since

they were divided that they will be reconstituted as one piece,

using digital imaging, writes Anand Holla

Rich colours rise out of large sheets of rice paper. Battlefield drama condensed painstakingly into a prolific piece of Gouache — a method of painting with opaque watercolours — evokes wonder. 

Spread across a hall at the Musuem of Islamic Art (MIA), 24 paintings depicting an epic battle in 18^th Century India can compel the most uninterested of the lot to know what the fuss over “The Tiger of Mysore” is all about.

MIA’s latest exhibition The Tiger’s Dream: Tipu Sultan, which opened Monday, takes you mainly through the finest hour of the ruler, statesman, and patron of the arts, by revisiting The Battle of Pollilur, or in simpler words “the severest blow that the British ever sustained in India.”

Sultan, or Tipoo Sahib, as the British called him, ruled the Sultanate of Mysore in Southern India from 1782 to 1799. From 1769 onwards, Mysore fought four wars with the British and their allies, culminating in the storming of the capital Srirangapatna and Sultan’s death during the final assault in May 1799.

However, in September 1780, The Battle of Pollilur that was fought between the British East India Company and the forces of Sultan and his father Hayder Ali dealt a body blow to the British, marking one of the worst defeats it suffered in the subcontinent.

It was to commemorate this remarkable triumph of Sultan that the victory was recreated as a wall painting in his palace, the Darya Daulat Bagh — which survives to this day, courtesy some commendable restoration work. The artwork essentially shows Sultan and his father’s army marching towards the besieged British force, and attacking them.

MIA’s exhibition features the cycle of paintings that appears to be a preparatory attempt at the palatial mural. “In their original state, the paintings on display were one continuous roll of rice paper, approximately two metres high and nine metres wide, but they have since been cut into 24 separate pieces,” said William Greenwood, curator of the exhibition.

Apart from the paintings, there’s a lot more memorabilia on display. From a manuscript of the Shahnameh to intricately designed artefacts such as dagger, pistol barrel, and sword rake up a world of curiosity around Sultan and his obsession with tiger as a motif.

The object in the spotlight though is a majestic cannon, signed Ahmad Pali and made of copper alloy and gilding in Sultan’s kingdom. Laden with tigers and inscriptions, the tiger motif here is most forcefully expressed by the snarling tiger heads at the muzzle (front), trunnions (on the sides) and cascabel (back) of the gun barrel.

Sultan chose the tiger as a visual symbol of his rule, either as a realistic depiction of the animal or, more simply, as the tiger-stripe motif, both of which can be seen on the objects, said a note at the exhibition.

“Tipu’s obsession with using tiger as a symbol of royal power appeared on everything from coins to military uniforms to architectural decoration. This was a deliberate choice on his part, both as a way of declaring his kingship and to invoke a series of associations appealing to both Hindu and Muslim subjects,” the note pointed out.

Interestingly, this is only the second time that these paintings have been shown as a cycle in the last 30 years, and the first time since they were divided that they will be reconstituted as one piece, using digital imaging. As visitors streamed in and pored over the paintings, Community caught up with Greenwood to know more.

Why is Tipu Sultan, and even more so The Battle of Pollilur, important enough to warrant an exhibition?

Tipu Sultan is really an ideal subject for an exhibition at any time — an important historical character who lived at a key moment in both Indian and world history, with an incredibly strong visual element to his rule. His story is fascinating both in the broad sweep of battles and palaces, and in the subtler but no less important details of his personal life and artistic patronage. The Battle of Pollilur was one of the defining moments in his story and that of the British imperial project in India, but it is not very well known today outside of academic circles. This exhibition aims to make it known to a wider audience.

What does Sultan’s visual propaganda reveal about his personality?

Tipu’s visual propaganda — his ‘branding’, if you will — shows a man with a keen eye for impressing his allies and terrifying his enemies. The tiger is, of course, a fierce animal, which makes it a natural symbol for a ruler who spent most of his life fighting. At the same time, it was clearly chosen with an eye to both Hindu and Muslim communities living under his rule, and as such shows that he understood it as a means of proclaiming his rule to all of his subjects.

From nurturing six tigers in his fortress-city of Srirangapatna to designing his striped throne in the shape of a tiger, there seemed to be no end to Sultan’s fixation with tiger as a motif in everything he owned. What is your understanding of it?

As I mentioned before, the tiger was a symbol of kingship for the two major communities under his rule. Within the local Hindu context, tigers were associated with the warrior goddesses of the villages and forests, and for South Indian Muslims, they represented the warrior-mystics (pirs) who were locally venerated as saints and who had spread Islam in the region. For Tipu himself though, the association was both personal and spiritual. His father’s name Haydar, for instance, can mean both ‘lion’ and ‘tiger’.

Technically, how artistically accomplished were these paintings?

These paintings are very technically developed, compressing the entire story of the Battle of Pollilur into a single narrative strand. The key characters, particularly Tipu and his father Haydar, are beautifully depicted in fine garments and laden with jewels. Even the mass of infantrymen is drawn with great sensitivity — they are not stock figures. This painting was intended to impress Tipu, so it had to be the best that the artists could manage.

What explains such stunning level of craftsmanship that can be witnessed in these objects?

The high level of craftsmanship can be explained by the fact that almost all of these objects were made under elite patronage. Both the cannon and the gun barrel, for example, bear a mark showing that they were made in the royal foundries at Srirangapatna. The dagger would probably have been worn by one of Tipu’s officers, as a way for the officer to show both his exquisite taste and his loyalty to Tipu.

Sultan’s legacy remains controversial. Some view him as a hero, while others dub him a tyrant who was intolerant to the religious diversity of the subcontinent. Do you think he did more damage than good?

In terms of the controversy surrounding Tipu, I think it demonstrates what an important character he was, and what an important character he continues to be more than two centuries after his death. As for the ‘good’ and the ‘damage’ caused by his reign, it’s impossible to say.