TALES FROM THE CAPITAL CITY – 147

 A Hidden Gem: Uncovering Forgotten Photographs

In 2013, I received a precious gift—an album of old photographs—from a descendant of a Travancore court painter. Moved by my passion for researching the legacy of the old-school painters, she entrusted me with her dear father's papers and documents, believing that they would be safe in my care. The album was a true treasure, filled with images of Travancore landmarks, portraits of the late artist’s family, and several Buddhist archaeological sites from Sri Lanka. Yet, while the photographs themselves were captivating, only a handful of pages bore any annotations—brief, notes that merely mentioned the name of a building or location.

With considerable effort, I identified some of the buildings and sites, only to discover that many of these images were far more significant than I had first realized. For example, the previous owner’s connection to the royal atelier meant that several photographs had come from the royal collection itself. One such gem was a photograph taken by Elayarajah Chatayam Tirunal—an amateur photographer and the nephew of the Maharajah of Travancore. This discovery was nothing short of a revelation.

I have many stories to share on how I identified some of the photos and the stories behind those images, but today, as I was glancing through the pages, I was reminded of a stunning 'discovery' I made in 2020. Fortunately, I made a note of it in my journal.

28.07.2020: "Today, as I was going through the individual pages of the album, I noticed that the last page was much thicker and stiffer than the others...saw that the two pages had been stuck together... Gently pulled away the outer leaf and to my surprise found that there was a beautiful photograph (titled 'Beach Palace' (Shangumugham), and dated '29.11.1929') hidden inside!"

It wasn't until much later that I came to realize the photograph had remained unseen for the past fifty years, hidden away in time's shadow.

Note: On the far left of the image, a group of anglers can be seen hauling in their catch from the sea.

13.01.2025.

TALES FROM THE CAPITAL CITY – 146

 Echoes of Renaissance: The Influence of 'Madonna Litta' on Raja Ravi Varma's 'Mother and Child'

'Madonna Litta,' a fifteenth-century painting by Leonardo da Vinci (Image 02), has always been one of my personal favourites. While the enigma of the Mona Lisa often captivates many, I have always been drawn to the tender, motherly gaze of the Madonna as she looks down at the chubby infant Christ, who suckles at her breast. 

The intimate connection between the Virgin Mary and the infant Christ in Leonardo's masterpiece evokes a similar sentiment found in another painting by an artist close to my heart. Raja Ravi Varma's 'Mother and Child' (also known as 'Nair Lady with Her Child') shares a striking similarity in its composition, with both works evoking the universal bond of motherly love. The mother's gaze in both paintings radiates protection and deep emotional connection, reinforcing the sanctity and beauty of motherhood.

However, the purpose of this write-up is not to merely compare the similarities between the two artworks. It is more likely that, during his formative years at the Travancore court, Ravi Varma studied copies and prints of European Renaissance masterpieces in the royal collection. While his work reflects certain elements of Madonna Litta, Ravi Varma successfully reinterprets these influences to align with the aesthetic sensibilities of the native Travancoreans in the late nineteenth century.

The 'Mother and Child' (Image 01) is undoubtedly a masterpiece from Ravi Varma’s early years in Travancore, when he served as a court painter to Maharajah Ayilyam Tirunal. Evidence for its attribution to this period comes not from the painted surface itself, but from the verso of the canvas, which contains valuable information in the form of a handwritten note. This note provides the title of the painting as well as the date it was completed or added to the royal collection.

The title, or rather the legible portion of the note, reads as follows: 

“A Sudra Lady with an infant in her hands……with her sister…………….of the child”

By Ravi Vurmah

Koil Thambooran

23rd July 1877.

TALES FROM THE CAPITAL CITY – 145

Unveiling Misattribution: The True Identity of the Subjects in the Kuthiramālika Palace Double Portrait

The misattribution of old portraits can often be traced back to a lack of detailed records or documentation surrounding the identities of the sitters and the artists who painted them. In many cases, these portraits have been passed down through generations or displayed in collections with little to no supporting information, leading to confusion about their true subjects.

A significant example of this issue is the double portrait in the Kuthiramālika Palace collection (Fort Palace complex, Thiruvananthapuram), which has been mistakenly identified as depicting Swathi Tirunal Rama Varma, the Maharaja of Travancore, and his younger brother Uthram Tirunal Marthanda Varma. For years, this portrait was associated with the royal family of Travancore due to their prominence and the likeness to known portraits of the two brothers. However, further research has revealed that the artwork, by F.C. Lewis, a European itinerant painter, actually depicts Sri Padmanabhan Tampi and Sri Nilakantan Tampi, sons of Maharajah Uthram Tirunal Marthanda Varma, from Nagercoil Ammaveedu.

Colonel Heber Drury, a famed botanist and a British army officer stationed in Travancore, provides a valuable glimpse into the private life of the Maharajah in his book ‘Reminiscences of Life and Sport in Southern India,’ where he describes his meeting with the Maharajah and his children. Drury, like many Europeans of the time, mistakenly identifies the children of the Maharajah—who are simply ‘Tampis’, ‘Tankachis’, or ‘Kochammas’—as ‘Prince’ and ‘Princess’. He writes, “A messenger was forthwith despatched [by the Maharajah] to the nursery to ask mamma [Nagercoil Ammachi, consort of Maharajah Uthram Tirunal Marthanda Varma] to let the little ones come down, and in a few moments the small fry made their appearance. I may say without exaggeration that I seldom met a more interesting-looking youth than the eldest boy, a lad of about ten years old. He is very fair, with an intelligent countenance. He seemed so good and amiable, and talked English exceedingly well. He was dressed in a scarlet frock, embroidered with gold lace, on his head was a brocaded cap, beneath which his jet-black hair made a striking and beautiful contrast with his charming features. The next was a boy about four or five years younger, and the third, a little girl, in whom papa [the Maharajah] seemed to take especial interest and pride.”

The successful identification of the subjects in the portrait can be traced back to the careful examination of another painting (in the same collection) by F.C. Lewis—his large canvas depicting the reception of Queen Victoria’s presents by Maharajah Uthram Tirunal (more on this later). In this grand work, the sons of Maharajah Marthanda Varma, namely Sri Padmanabhan Tampi and Sri Nilakantan Tampi, are prominently featured, alongside the royals and other distinguished courtiers.

The proper identification of the sons of Maharajah Marthanda Varma, after all these years, not only gives a face to figures who were prominent in the social and political circles of their time but also restores their rightful place in historical narratives.

10.02.2025