Initially, Shaurya Kumar’s oeuvre can look rather baffling as he uses a variety of mediums and a diverse set of tools and processes. The distinct conceptual underpinning of his research requires one to engage with the premise to get the full import of his works. An artist born and bred in New Delhi but living in the US since 2004, the idea of India hangs heavy on his consciousness. An ancient civilization in transition where marginalization and loss of history is an everyday commonplace occurrence.

The stunning visuality of the work that shares the title of the show is an exquisite porcelain work. ‘Oi mandire kono debata nei’ (There is No God in the Temple) in Bengali type font is paraphrased from a poem ‘Deeno Daan’ by Rabindranath Tagore, penned in 1900. The poem is about a sage who refuses to worship in a grand sky-scraping temple that the king has built spending “two million gold coins” in a year when his subjects are struck by a calamity. They were turned away by the king when they came to seek alms desperately. The miffed king asks the sage why he refuses to pray in the purpose-built grand temple. The sage replies – it has no God in it but is filled with the king’s vanity.

The knotted threads that cover the text fonts can be seen in many shrines across the subcontinent. Devotees tie these knots in the hope of wish-fulfilment or mannat as this practice is popularly known across north India. The whole construct is then dipped into porcelain slip and fired. Once the wooden letters and the threads are burnt away what is left are the eggshell thin hollow skin of the porcelain, so fragile and delicate that from a distance it is easy to mistake them as lacework or brittle bones! The obvious ramification of the poem’s content in a country that is keen on showcasing a grand temple as the centrepiece of its project to redefine national identity amidst the unspeakable sufferings of the pandemic is unmistakable.

Gold has traditionally been associated with the Godly in most cultures around the world. In the course of our conversation, Shaurya mentioned witnessing worshippers in Saranath smuggling in tiny bits of beaten gold leaf to paste on their object of devotion to earn merit, even though it was expressly forbidden. Seen together with graffiti/ vandalism and expressions of piety, commonly seen in our public monuments, lead to the set of works where 4 x 5 inches squares of gold leaves are placed in the centre of white kitakata paper measuring 19 x 14 inches titled ‘If in a Sacred Land a Traveler…’. Trained originally as a printmaker at Delhi’s College of Art Shaurya’s graphic interest is perhaps most self-evident in these works. The gold is scratched away to arrive at fragmentary imagery associated with the sacred..

The piece titled ‘It’s Mine, No It’s Mine, Now It’s Yours, No It’s ours, Now it’s Missing’ is based on the ancient Indian board game that played a pivotal role in the epic Mahabharata in humiliating Draupadi and defrauding the Pandava brothers that ultimately lead to the war of Kurukshetra. A game whose metaphoric potential to denote deceit, manipulation and greed is easily understood in this part of the world. How Indian temples and places of worship were denuded over the years of their deities and other sacred objects which found their way to museums and private collections in the Global North and the more recent debate on the repatriation of stolen artifacts were the triggers. Kumar’s research revealed over fifty thousand such objects were smuggled out of India, in relative peacetime, unlike many war-torn countries.

The arrest of Subhash Kapoor, one of the lynchpins of the smuggling racket in 2011, brought to light the elaborate modus operandi of the smuggling operation involving casting replicas, forging certificates of craft objects, and a system of creating fake provenances. These cultural artifacts plucked from their original contexts and bereft of their purpose and meaning become mere pawns in political, diplomatic and economic power plays. The colours in the checkered squares of the woven cloth base (the board) subtly hint at the national flags of the countries that hold these booties of systematic loot. The objects themselves are modelled not on the basis of the actual objects, which were inaccessible to anyone outside the charmed circle, but on grainy photos published in news articles. These then were 3D printed in plastic. The results are akin to miniaturized souvenirs often found in touristy shops near historically important sites. These plastic replicas add to the poignancy of loss and destruction caused by the violence of removal, contextual displacement, appropriation and human intervention. Obvious fakes standing in for the missing originals.

In ‘A Case of the Broken Hands’ forty scattered fragments of hands made in stone are 3D printed on ivory-coloured plastic base. These are modelled from a published black & amp; white photo from the ASI archive dating back to 1914-15. These shards are tantalizing, they do invite the viewer to mentally reassemble them and imagine them as parts of a whole. Many of Shaurya’s works seem to silently raise posers that reflect on the reality as well as possibilities – would these objects be returned to their original abodes or to Government collections? Which ones would be chosen for repatriation and what will be the criteria? A conundrum that haunts even the demand for repatriation.

The set of works closely referencing Basholi and Kangra miniatures deal with divinities and divine spaces, where the main object of worship is conspicuously erased. It is perhaps the most literal translation of the idea of the loss and emptiness caused by the missing image. Radha and Krishna are only seen in the mirror reflection while their corporeal bodies have disappeared. In the Ramayana panel supposedly depicting the Rama & Lakshman duo all one gets to see are the flora on a luminescent yellow background. Where have the Gods gone? Are they pushed out of the frame or simply vanished into the margins of our consciousness? The question can be further extended into the metaphysics of dealing with the nature of things.