Akbar and Azim Khan at Dipalpur (right side)
| Support Type: | Paper |
| Paint Type: | Watercolor |
| Current Location: | Victoria and Albert Museum, London |
| Location History: | Purchased from Mrs. Clarke, The Dingle, Sydenham Hill, S. E |
Akbar and Azim Khan at Dipalpur (right side), c. 1590-1595, designed by Jagan, painted by Sur Das, faces by Madhav; from the Victoria and Albert Akbarnama. This is not an image of military victory, nor of narrow administration. It’s an image of empire supported not just by warfare but through carefully conducted gestures of giving, hierarchizing, and accommodating others politically. Painted in the emperor’s karkhana (studio) in the last years of Akbar’s reign, this folio depicts an audience between the emperor and Azim Khan (Mirza Aziz Koka) at Dipalpur, converting an everyday courtly scene into a depiction of royal order. Like many folio illustrations from the Akbarnama, it serves simultaneously as history, philosophy, and a spectacular piece of theater. The design of the painting turns around a dominant vertical axis. In the centre of the space Akbar-under an embroidered pavilion of green and red, seated on the ‘royal’ Hexagonal chair-becomes the still-point. ‘Royal’, that is, to the judgment of curators of the Victoria and Albert Museum; it was no simple seat, but rather an imperial cipher of kingship itself. Suspended in this space in the middle, his placement is deliberate; every figure, every element of the setting, revolves around his seated form. The converging red and green panels of the pavilion appear to meet over him. The carpet, with its all-over pattern of floral motifs and geometric ornament, spreads from beneath his knees. The eye, whether you know it or not, always returns to his figure as it radiates away to accommodate every figure and accessory around the emperor. As an architectural element, in fact, the pavilion itself works as if it were a cosmological chart, as though the imperial world were poised upon this centre as upon an axis, Akbar presiding at its hub, rather than a simply a structural element that is used for courtly proceedings. Here we are to understand Akbar extending his right hand to a young man who has offered him a shallow golden tray. It is a very restrained movement, of the slightest inclination; there are no exclamatory elements of dramatic power here. Akbar has a placid composure. The intricately worked jama he wears, richly embroidered with geometric patterns in gold thread and enriched by the effect of his dark velvet cushions on each side that frame his body with a corona-like effect, signifies imperial opulence. A perforated and embroidered backrest stands behind him, its intricate pattern of leaves and flowers a rich commentary on both Timurid styles and the new naturalism now coming into being. It is as if Akbar does not simply receive gifts, but instead disburses his essence through this small gesture. The various figures-courtiers, officers, servants, and attenders-who gather around him do so with remarkable particularity and nuance. Their gestures and their postures demonstrate the social ordering of the imperial court. Some figures are shown whispering or listening intently; others carry cushions, ewers, fly whisks or manuscripts, or await their turns, their attention all turned toward Akbar or his attendants. Each person is clearly positioned within the social structure, yet no figure appears at all mechanistic. Each has his own face; there’s no tendency toward standard types. These highly individualized portraits are an indicator of the complex social system in which the imperial paintings are produced, and the division of labour among the artists of the karkhana are documented in the Persian inscription: ‘design by Jagan, painting by Sur Das, faces by Madhav’. The painting becomes itself an example of imperial art production-an art of administration. An equally distinctive feature is the setting, a huge tent with geometrically patterned seams and flat surfaces of orange is the setting for this imperial gathering. Behind the pavilion lie further tented spaces, and beyond that, the tops of dark-green trees. Architecture without brick, yet it functions quite as effectively to represent imperial presence as stone walls do-a travelling palace that transforms any site into the imperial centre. The space beneath the tent floor is sprinkled with golden vessels: a vast array of ewers, trays, bowls and ewers that attest to the cosmopolitanism of Akbar’s empire and the luxurious imports it attracted from the Islamic world beyond India. Their rich forms echo West Asian and Safavid metalwork. These objects signify abundance, wealth, and the potential to bestow favours-central ideas in Mughal theories of kingship, which were inseparable from the judicious and regulated bestowal of gifts and honors. They are here as visible markers of these capacities. Colour is used here to promote the emperor’s interests. The predominant gold, reds and oranges signal sovereignty and good fortune; the interior of the pavilion, in cool, harmonious greens, sets up a contrast, creating balance. The rich blue floor with its complex design of flora and fauna forms a stable grounding for the spectacle. The sparingly used gold highlights the emperor’s regalia, furnishings, and the courtly items distributed in his presence, suggesting that he is himself invested with solar authority. Historically this folio is part of an unprecedented artistic venture: an illustrated edition of Abu’l-Fazl's biography of Akbar called the Akbarnama, intended to provide a monumental visual history for his long and glorious reign. It was more than a biography, however; it was intended to create a collective memory, an epic narrative that elevated Akbar to the pantheon of universal emperors. Military triumphs, diplomatic relations, grand ceremonies, and individual acts of royal clemency and power were all mobilized to construct a visual testament to the effectiveness of his rule. This scene at Dipalpur provides a prime example of this aim-it registers not just an event but a philosophical principle: that the mere presence of the sovereign is sufficient to organize social life into a harmonious and ordered system. In terms of culture, too, the painting represents what was characteristic of the Mughal empire, and not least of the imperial workshop itself, as a complex milieu of cultural pluralism. Jagan and Madhav were Hindu artists who worked alongside Muslim artists like Asir and Sur Das under the emperor’s command, in a richly varied environment of styles and traditions: Islamic styles mingled with Hindu ones; Persian tastes were reinterpreted by artists steeped in Indian visual traditions, and Central Asian fashions blended with those endemic to the Indian subcontinent. The outcome is a uniquely Mughal product: it is not purely Persian nor purely Indian, but a brilliant fusion born of mutual interaction and shared creativity across the diverse cultures that composed the empire. As such, the painting embodies the principle of accommodations that Akbar brought to political life in general. From the perspective of philosophy, the folio is to be seen as articulating an ideal of power founded not upon the force of arms, but upon the harmony and balance that derived from right ordering and the reciprocal relations that such ordering entails. No armies are depicted, no wars, and no defeat. Here, the exercise of power and authority is made visible through principles of balance and symmetry, through carefully rehearsed ceremony and regulated relationships between social groups. All figures defer to the emperor’s authority, and yet he remains a composed, calm figure-not imposing. His power lies in this very restraint, which is to be understood as reflecting the imperial ideal of the benevolent monarch in whom are summed up wisdom and justice. And at the center of the composition, his raised hexagonal seat elevates him to an even higher, more symbolic plane. Thus, Akbar and Azim Khan at Dipalpur represents more than an historical episode. It is a painting about empire, about how it would represent and understand itself. By means of Jagan’s compositional genius, an event in a tent is transmuted into a declaration of kingship, an image of the perfect, well-run empire whose artistic rendering reflects, in turn, a political and social order in which figures in appropriate places and with appropriate attributes defer to their sovereign. The history it conveys is also an ideology.
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