The ancient Indian theorising on aesthetics is centred around the individual psyche. This is not surprising; it counterbalances the categories of caste, which deny the existence of anything like humanity. So, we have individuals who share certain traits in common but belong to different castes whose origin is seen as being from different areas of the creator?s body. As such, they are different species.

A gouache ?Untitled? by Amit Ambalal

The individuals, then, are shot through not only by caste but also by arbitrarily-defined emotions such as Shringara (erotic), Hasya (comic), Karuna (pathetic), Raudra (furious), Vira (heroic), Bhayanak (terrible), Bhibhatsa (odious) and Adbhuta (marvellous). These are spelt out by Bharata in his Natyashastra of the sixth century AD. They refer primarily to performance art. This story not only fragments the creative personality but also is subject to very arbitrary standards of evaluating an art object.

Clearly, such a scheme required elucidation. And that came with theorists such as Anandavardhana who stressed the vibrations of a work (dhwani) as the basis of its aesthetic appreciation in the 10th century. This quality of vibration in art brings us closer to penetrating the objective nature of the aesthetic qualities of an art work, on the one hand, and of the changing impact of its rhythms over time on the other. It is precisely these vibrations, our assessment of them and the manner in which they are produced, that basically reflect not only our individual aesthetic appreciation and taste, but also its evolution over time and space. This theory ought to have replaced Bharata completely but the reverential nature of thought in a stagnant society has simply superimposed the one on the other.

It is from this angle then that I propose to assess the different works exhibited by the Sharon Apparao gallery at the India Habitat Centre in New Delhi, in an exhibition curated by Alka Pande and partly sponsored by the Voluntary Health Association of India.

The exhibition consists of contributions by a number of our more saleable artists such as Anjolie Ela Menon, Arpana Caur, Paresh Maity, Ramananda Bandhopadhyay and Suhas Roy, grouped in erotic category; Neeraj Goswami, Amit Ambalal and Paritosh Sen in the comic category; Arpita Singh in the category of pathos; Jitish Kallat and Jatin Das in the terrible one; Nandagopal in the heroic category; Atul Dodiya in the frightening category; Sunil Das, Jogen Choudhury and Vaikuntam in the odious category and KS Radhakrishnan, JS Swaminathan and Vasundhara Tiwari in the category of the astonishing. And finally, works of Himmat Shah, SH Raza and Siddharth as part of the quiescent emotion, not included in the theory of Bharata. Personally, I would have placed Himmat Shah?s celebration of form in the erotic mode, and those of Raza and Siddharth under the category of pathos.

From the angle of rhythm, both Shah and Raza stand head and shoulders above the others. The grasp of form and rhythm in these works is remarkable as is the capacity of evoking complex emotions with minimal diacritical marks. In this, the works of Shah is more original as it creates its own symbolism.

Raza, of course, uses the time-tested symbols of tantric art but in a framework that highlights their formal and aesthetic qualities. From the angle of rhythms expressed in colour, the work of Siddharth stands out with its human with a bird image expressing the closeness of compassion to illumination in art. This relation is a blend of simplicity of form, lucidity of colour and a harmony of thought.

At this point, however, it must be noted that the concept of rhythm is not enough. It is too general to allow us to assess the concrete art historical context of works like those of Arpana Caur or Jitish Kallat. Also generalisations like rhythm compartmentalised in Bharata?s arbitrary grid of emotions is inadequate to judge the worth of an art object without bringing in external factors. As such, it is not much use to revive ancient theorising that is inadequate for present day analysis, as Alka Pande has done. The best works escape notice that way. Nor is it accurate.

Arpana Caur?s woman rejecting the polluted urban environment and stepping out of it into the cloudy expanse of green could well be in the Bhibasta rasa; but it also reflects environmental concerns of a political nature which Bharata?s scheme, or that of Anandavardhana, cannot comprehend, as such problems did not even confront them.

In the same way, Jitish Kallat?s gun and dagger carrying ?nayakas? get grouped wrongly unless we take account of a political environment in which crime, bravery and popularity are encapsulated in a set of values that call for a total change not only of society, but also of its aesthetic principles.

From this perspective, the works of Jitish Kallat, Arpana Caur, Atul Dodiya, Arpita Singh, or those of Anjolie Ela Menon, Paresh Maity, Jatin Das and Sunil Das, reflecting the condition of the Nayika (with the downtrodden victim as heroine) cannot be properly assessed under the arbitrary scheme of the Rasa theory. Also the black humour in the works of Amit Ambalal (of a monkey being chased by a shark) or the paintings of Paritosh Sen, rendered in the modern manner, clearly require an art historical and not psychological approach.

From the perspective of the modern collector, the drawings of Himmat Shah, variously priced at between Rs 10,000 and Rs 30,000 are a good buy, as are two Arpana Caur paintings at Rs 1 lakh each, the paintings of Paresh Maity at Rs 50,000 and small works by Jitish Kalat at prices that are very reasonable indeed.

The show, however, could have been more sensibly grouped had it not had the baggage of Bharata to cope with. Times have changed; and with it tastes and the ways of assessing them. We must take account of this.