Exploring how altered appearances distorts cultural truths and accuracy – diving into the effects of these modifications on our understanding of heritage and identity.
The lockdown left lasting scars on our collective consciousness and pulled apart all threads of social connection. Yet, we found moments of solidarity. Most Indians dilly-dallied their time by tuning in every evening to watch BR Chopra’s Mahabharat on Doordarshan. Guilty as charged, I too sat with my family all ready to be transported back to olden times’ clunky VFX, cliché dialogues, and a very, very whitewashed Draupadi.
It is a well-known fact that Indians are obsessed with Eurocentric features – fair skin, light eyes, high cheekbones and dainty noses. The preference for actors who fit that criterion has reverberated across the film industry but it does seem very odd how certain inconsistencies, specifically regarding the depictions of mythology and religion are accepted by the public that is otherwise ready to burn down a school bus at the sight of a female character’s exposed waist. This, as I realised later on, is a lot to ask from an audience that was ready to accept Priyanka Chopra as Mary Kom.
Draupadi, the heroine of Mahabharat is described as a woman who emerges from fire hence, donning a dark complexion, lotus eyes and long curls. So, when did that change? We start with one of the earliest forms of media-paintings and print. In 1898, Raja Ravi Varma unveiled his depiction of a scene from the epic titled “Draupadi vastraharan” showcasing a distressed Draupadi being disrobed by Dushasana in the Kaurava Court. However, this Draupadi instead of being saved by Krishna, seems to have Yami Gautam come to her aid – the very pale face of Fair and Lovely creams. Varma’s style was significantly influenced by European art traditions, which valued lighter skin tones as symbols of beauty and virtue. This influence, along with commercial considerations, led him to portray his subjects with lighter skin. Varma’s paintings were reproduced in print and sold as calendar art, a staple for every Indian household altering the collective mindset, and shaping cultural norms and expectations that continue to resonate today.
This also extends to the depiction of Krishna whose name means “the dark-skinned one” reflecting his divine cosmic nature. The famous Banke Bihari temple in Vrindavan features statues of the deity made of black marble. And yet, in all of the live-action remakes of the epic, casting directors opted for a light- skinned actor stripping away Krishna’s role as a protector of the marginalised, leaving behind a version that’s more palatable to the masses. The only mention of his dark skin occurs in the song “Yashomati mayya se bole Nanda-lala, Radha kyon gori, mein kyon kala?” wherein a helpless Yashoda tries to pacify her son about his colour. Kudos to us, we gave a celestial being a complex about his appearance.
“Even a channel called Colours uses a fair child to depict the black, or blue, Krishna. And no one is outraged.” – a mythologist, Devdutt Pattnaik
We see Draupadi and Krishna in BR Chopra’s Mahabharat in 1988 and then the-beloved Star Plus Mahabharat in 2013 played by fair-skinned actors. Both TV shows did a wonderful job of completely missing the mark on the casting. It is undeniable that the actors were the stars of both shows and many would argue that it is hard to imagine the show without them however, the question still remains how the complexion of darker- skinned characters is altered for say, concerns like ‘acting ability’, but the same does not happen to light-skinned characters? Our mindset has been subtly whitewashed to produce selective outrage. No one questions the accuracy of depictions of dark skinned characters but, if any TV remake of Ramanayna were to cast an actor with a darker skin tone for the role of Ram, it would completely go against our idea of “Maryada Purushottam”.
It’s more than a creative choice at this point, cinema especially in a country like India, is more than just entertainment – it is a mirror, albeit a cracked one that reflects societal norms. It stands as a manifestation of the colonial hangover that equates fairness to superiority. But peel back the layers and you’ll find it inexplicably linked to caste. Dark skin has been associated with lower castes symbolising their “polluted” status. This wasn’t just a matter of social theory but rather reinforced through art, literature and even Gods.
From a very young age, children are exposed to the politics of colour. The Amar Chita Katha associated light-skinned masculinity with strength, virtue and divinity while dark-skinned masculinity stood for stupidity and villainy. These comics set the tone for our perception of religion, society and our knowledge base about our culture. In the land of a gazillion gods and goddesses, there have always been continuous attempts to suppress the diversity we so proudly proclaim to have. Stories about regional gods never get a place in mainstream media because they don’t fit the chandelier crashing in slow-motion Bhansali style.
As we continue to airbrush our deities, the blame for it keeps shifting from one person to another. However, the question still remains- if the only way to present our past is through an Instagram filter, are we truly honouring our cultures or just creating a fantasy fit for the present?
Featured Image Credits-Devdutt Pattnaik
Read Also- Is Religion Made for Women?
Saanvi Manchanda
