At Home with Hindu Superheroes: The Sacralized and Nationalized Domesticity of Amar

Chitra Katha in the Indian American Diaspora
















Shiwani Srivastava
















MA Research Paper

International Studies - South Asia

Henry M. Jackson School of International Studies

University of Washington

1 June 2007


Introduction

In the early 1970s, the face of Indian children’s literature changed radically when Anant Pai created the Amar Chitra Katha (“Immortal Picture Stories”) comic book retellings of Indian history, culture, and literature. Pai got the idea for the series when he was watching an Indian quiz show, and was shocked that children were able to answer questions about Western culture but were stumped when asked about the Ramayan)a (ACK Web site, About Us). Prior to ACK, India did not have a distinct history of published children’s literature, causing Western comic books like Archie, Tarzan, Phantom, and Tin Tin to dominate the market (Rao 38). Certainly, Pai was an astute businessman who sensed the Indian market was ripe for his product. But his goals extended beyond just a product to the daunting task of preserving India’s “glorious national history” (ACK Web site, About Us). This vision involved viewing children as “national resources” who could be shaped by the moral guidance of the heroes, heroines, and role models represented in the series (Chandra 26).

Because of its significant reach and immense popularity by the 1980s, the comic books were scrutinized “to an unprecedented degree” (Rao 43). Feminist groups took issue with the stereotyping and lack of representation of female characters, accusing Pai of presenting women in either sexual or domestic roles (43). Similarly, Pai was labeled as an apologist of Hindu chauvinism1 for under-representing Muslim figures (aside from the Mughals) and for conflating Indian and Hindu values by failing to list Muslim holidays on the “Festivals of India” page of the ACK Web site.2 Perhaps most significant was the claim that Pai was spreading altered versions of history and texts. Pai does not deny that he cleaned up stories to make them child-friendly, adding “that which is unpleasant – just because it is true, you need not say it” (Pritchett 80)

But trying to pinpoint a singular agenda is not only difficult – it is besides the point. It is important to consider these various claims as part of the overall impact of this once ubiquitous series, on which little scholarly work has been written.3 In 1995, ACK stopped publishing new editions in India (with the exception of one new release), as the number of monthly sales dropped below 40,000 – a far cry from its peak in the early 1980s (Rao 46). However, ACK continues to have strong online sales of comic book packages and a strong influence on other children’s comic book series in India that have learned from ACK’s model. These include Tinkle, Indrajal, Raj, and Diamond Comics, and a new Virgin Comics international enterprise, which we will discuss further. Despite ACK’s growing obsolescence in India, the series remains popular among the diaspora, particularly Indian-Americans. Indian airport gift shops and booksellers often continue to stock the product because of the large number of non-resident Indians who are looking to buy the comics for their children (Rajwade, 3/27/07). This rather curious trend is the focus of this paper.

In particular, I propose that ACK engages visually and textually with what it means to be part of an Indian (Hindu) family through the lens of a nationalism that was popular in 1970s India, making these comic books especially influential in the diaspora, whose largest wave of immigration from India to America was happening at the very time these ideas were flourishing.4 This nationalism is reflected in the choices Pai made for ACK, which not only presents Hindu deities as role models in the domestic sphere, but presents the home as a sacred space as well – a concept that tapped into the diasporic inclination to view the home as a space for expressing distinct ‘Indian-ness’ in a foreign country. To illustrate the convergence of ACK’s family values with the Indian American diaspora, I will outline why the social and political milieu of the late 1960s and early 70s created a perfect market for a comic book focused on a national ideal of the family. Next, I will look at the aesthetic tradition of ACK, most notably via Raja Ravi Varma, whose paintings of religious iconography in increasingly genteel styles and settings were aligned with Pai’s goals and diasporic sensibilities. I will then look at two editions of ACK: “Sati and Shiva” (no. 111, 1976) and “Shiva and Parvati” (no. 29, 1972) to illustrate these points, as well as how the comics intentionally emphasize domesticity. Finally, I will turn to the new wave of cultural educators – young women in the Indian American diaspora – to see how ACK fits into their familial and cultural narratives of the past, present, and future.

The “Need” for ACK in 1970s India

What was it about 1960s and -70s India that prompted Pai to create ACK? What was the ‘unpleasantness’ of Indian history that Pai was trying to mitigate and counteract with his family-friendly comic books? After examining the political and social situation in India during the 1960s and -70s, it becomes apparent that Pai’s goals were focused on the preservation of two distinctly Indian facets – its history and its notions of family.

First, India was struggling with the aftermath of partition well into the -60s and -70s. The India-Pakistan war over Kashmir began in 1965 and the Indian army helped expel Pakistan from Bangladesh to make it an independent nation in 1971 (Ludden 228, 236). For Pai, it seems that just as India’s geography was fractured by partition, so was its history. The first issues of ACK were built on retelling stories from pre-partition India’s golden past. Once ACK gets into the realm of colonial and post-colonial figures, there is a notable omission of Muslims, suggesting that for Pai, Indian history became synonymous with Hindu history once Pakistan partitioned into an Islamic state.5

That being said, Pai’s anxiety over presenting India’s tumultuous past in light of current events went beyond politics – the solution, for Pai, lay in the institution of the family. This is where the idea of children as national resources came in – he saw educating children in India’s ‘glorious history’ as a means of rectifying the radicalism and fractiousness in Indian politics at the time. However, this was easier said than done considering the domestic sphere was also changing rapidly. Most notably, the U.S. Immigration Act of 1965 prompted a mass migration of Indians to America, creating a large diaspora population whose children would grow up as English-speakers educated in a foreign school system devoid of Indian culture and history. It is likely that Pai developed ACK with the diaspora in mind, as a means of quelling the anxiety he felt over the ‘glorious national history’ of an India that was becoming increasingly ‘Westernized’ and spread out abroad. This is evidenced by the fact that the comic books are originally printed in English and later translated into Indian languages. Furthermore, the large U.S. diaspora encouraged more travel from India to America by extended relatives, for whom ACK was an easy gift for their young American family members – it was a novelty, it instructed them on Indian history and culture, and it was the only children’s literature available, especially in airports. Today, as ACK faces competition in India from its ‘hipper’ counterparts, it still has a large market in the Indian American diaspora, whose sensibilities of Indian history and culture are very much based on the 1960s and -70s India the first generation left behind. This is illustrated by the fact that ACK’s primary means of revenue is online sales, an indicator of the American market’s importance. Aside from the digital divide that limits Web access to only very wealthy Indian homes, the Web site is entirely in English, promotes pricey comic book packages and anthologies, has overseas shipping options, and accepts all major US credit cards.

This emphasizes another point – the intended middle-class audience of ACK. Even in India, Pai designed ACK to “fill the lacuna left by grandparents in the smaller nuclear families in urban areas” (ACK Web site, About Us). This was especially the case for the diaspora population. Certainly, the customers of ACK tend to be adult (purchasing the comic books for children), middle to upper class, and well-educated – they are “the kinds of people who want their children to read in English and also want to assure them access to a cultural tradition that otherwise may seem increasingly remote” (Pritchett 76). Once again, this aspect of ACK is very much situated in the social milieu or 1960s & -70s India. Families were increasingly migrating to urban areas, where business and education were booming – in other words, India was slowly becoming ‘Westernized.’ In fact, “virtually every political and cultural movement in South Asia since 1970 has involved overseas nationals,” who invested their earnings back into South Asia, creating “a new kind of home in the world for national identity” (Ludden 207). The diaspora, which never truly left India behind, seemed neither here nor there. These are important images of family – middle-class extended families breaking down into nuclear units as people migrated to cities and abroad to pursue greater economic opportunity. For Pai, the family structure of India’s ‘glorious past’ was becoming as fractious as the politics.

The Artistic Influences on Amar Chitra Katha’s Domesticity

This focus on the domestic sphere can also be found in the aesthetic influences of ACK. The comic books’ cover art paintings of Hindu gods and goddesses seemingly ‘posing’ for family portraits bring to mind the Hindu calendar art and god posters ubiquitous in Hindu homes, temples, and businesses in India and the diaspora community alike. These images of gods and goddesses in photographic portraits6 as middle-class families were likely to have particular resonance with the diaspora community, for whom family photography became a primary means of communication with the homeland. But this style of art not only represents families – it helps delineate a space in the home where Hindu families can come together to pray. For the diaspora in particular, the home became a space for expressing Indian values in America. While god posters are a thriving business in India, they take on a special significance in the diaspora. Yet despite calendar art’s omnipresence, its origins are not frequently discussed or even known. There are countless painters working in the trade today, but in fact “most of today’s [calendar art] painters for the popular market trace their heritage to Ravi Varma” (Inglis 58).

THE AGE AND INFLUENCE OF RAJA RAVI VARMA

It is not surprising that Amar Chitra Katha was consciously styled in the tradition of Ravi Varma. As Anant Pai said himself, “the naturalistic style a la Ravi Varma alone can represent the past as it was, without mediation” (Chandra 29). Once again, we return to Pai’s refrain of India’s ‘glorious history’ as a means of repairing deteriorating family structure. Given this apparent influence of Varma on Pai’s work, the next question is who was Ravi Varma and why was Pai so drawn to his art?

Ravi Varma (1848–1906) was born into an aristocratic family at the Travancore court (now the state of Kerala), where he studied painting from European art books. In his art, he would depict scenes from Indian domestic life, literary works, and religious epics in the style of the German Romantic Movement (Neumayer 36-41). Many of Varma’s works, such as Here Comes Papa (1893) and Damayanti (1894), concentrated on the domestic lives of middle to upper-class individuals in turn-of-the-century India. Around the same time, he began painting figures from Hindu mythology – such as Durga, Sarasvati, and Tara Devi – in the same German Romantic style as the middle to upper-class domestic settings. The style was marked by use of perspective, light and shadow, a wide-ranging palette, and relatively detailed and realistic figures. This set a new precedent for Indian painting, which traditionally had been characterized by bright primary colors, two-dimensionality, and symbolic representations of religious and literary subjects (Desai 371). It also presented much more refined portraits of the gods and goddesses, who otherwise had a number of characteristics that might have seemed unpleasant or uncouth according to European sensibilities. This was the basis of a great deal of criticism against Varma. Most notably, Ananda K. Coomaraswamy argued that Hindu texts were originally transmitted orally, and despite some stock epithets describing the gods and goddesses (for example, Siva’s trident, Durga’s tiger, Kali’s garland of skulls), visual representation of the deities was not particularly standardized (Coomaraswamy, “Hindu” 19). As a result, he criticized as “unholy” the work of Ravi Varma “whose gods and heroes are but men cast in a very common mould” (Coomaraswamy, Fundamentals 9). But as Varma’s work ‘domesticated’ the Hindu deities, it also painted the domestic as a sacred realm – a tactic that brought the gods to the level of the people and made them resonate with their lives. This is especially important in understanding why Pai chose to emulate Varma’s style in his didactic comic books meant to morally instruct children.

At the turn of the 20th century, Varma’s novel combination of Indian domestic subjects with European technique made his work in high demand among the Indian aristocracy. We can also see how this style would lend itself well to Pai’s project, in which he wanted to present pleasant, child-friendly versions of Indian stories for middle-class children. In addition to Varma’s religious iconography being rather genteel, its mass reproduction and distribution created a unified visual interpretation of the gods and goddesses for most of India. With the creation of Ravi Varma Press, Varma’s art went from being aristocratic commodities to popular art accessible to all via advertisements, matchboxes, and postcards. By the early 1900s, the press’ images (with Varma’s encouragement) were being harnessed by nationalists to “induce in the beholders a sense of belonging to a great and once glorious tradition” – a refrain similar to Pai’s goals (Neumayer 55).

That being said, it is also important to note the ways in which Ravi Varma’s work differs from Pai’s. Perhaps the greatest difference is that Varma was less concerned with defining a great Indian tradition – this was more the concern of his critics, like Coomaraswamy. Varma, rather than having didactic aims, was focused on being a painter for patrons: “He had two distinct idioms, depending upon whom he worked for. One was for his European clientele, and the other to satisfy the luxury needs of the aristocracy and upper-class bourgeoisie” (39). It is ironic that Ravi Varma Press became the most influential mass-producer of art for commercial consumption. But it is not so surprising when we consider that Varma was a businessman at heart, tending to keep idealistic issues separate from the running of his press (53). This dichotomy of Varma’s art – its genteel aristocratic roots and its commercially mass-produced progression – helps us explain how such diverse art forms all trace their roots back to Varma.

Aside from ACK, many mythological filmmakers cite Varma as an influence. Most notable is Jai Santoshi Maa, a popular film about an even more popular regional deity that came out during a mythological film resurgence in 1975, around the same time as ACK (Dwyer 19). While these films are often compared to ACK, they are significantly different. Anant Pai never made an ACK edition on Santosi Ma (or other wildly popular local deities like Satyanarayan)a) – despite the “guaranteed sales” – because he found these deities to be “‘a degradation of Hinduism’” and their followers to be “superstitious” (Chandra 28). And so, we see that simply tracing ACK back to Varma – whose work inspired vastly different art forms – is not enough to explain its artistic roots. While Varma’s work may have inspired ACK’s cover art, domestic settings, and general family-friendliness, it does not explain Pai’s nationalistic desire to use the family as a means of restoring India’s glorious past. But at the same time Pai was producing ACK, calendar art was emerging not as commercial form, but as a nationalistic tool.

THE HINDU FAMILY IN CALENDAR ART

As discussed earlier, Ravi Varma is the undisputed father of Hindu calendar art in India. But his work became so widely circulated, that countless artists began emulating his style, painting anonymously or under Varma’s name. Despite the multiplicity of artists, the calendar art industry as a whole witnessed major shifts and trends. For example, Varma had focused on depicting Hindu deities in domestic settings. But in the 1960s and 70s, these images began to shift towards depicting the Hindu family in sacred settings. These posters simultaneously created and participated in the nationalism that Pai was tapping into, in which the domestic was a realm for upholding the sacred and the national. Patricia Uberoi describes this new breed of calendar art as visual “idioms which are more overtly secular, but which nonetheless in many cases bear the imprint of sacred iconography” (199). This included the representation of a “Heroic Family” with a “stern-faced father, battle-ready, adored by his heroic wife and child” – a model that Pai’s ACK deities often follow, as we will see later (205). The artist Yogendra Rastogi was less subtle in his conflation of these three realms (the domestic, sacred, and national), painting a series on a young brother and sister in various nationalistic settings during the religious occasion of rakshabandan (see Fig. A) (Pinney 173). Uberoi attributes this shift towards the family in calendar art to the Soviet Socialist Realist iconography prevalent in 1960s, in which the nuclear family was celebrated as the sign of a new India (Uberoi 205). Perhaps despite Pai’s attempts to recall India’s glorious past, he was not fighting against modernity or the rise of the nuclear family. Rather, he tapped into these changes, producing ACK as a tool which simultaneously inspired nostalgia by representing the past, yet also looked forward by seeking to culturally educate a new generation of young Indians.7

This tension between nostalgia for the past and excitement for the future, found in both calendar art and ACK, is the basis of being part of a diaspora community seeking to establish new roots while still holding onto the old. Knut. A Jacobsen and P. Pratap Kumar talk about the very distinct experiences of the first wave of the South Asian diaspora, for whom “leaving South Asia often meant that they afterwards would have minimal contact with their previous home” (xii). As a result, those who emigrated more recently, particularly post-1980s, do not experience “the same isolation and deep loss of homeland as previous generations” (xii). The first major influx of Indians to America in the 1960s and 70s, then, had a greater stake in establishing religious institutions and maintaining cultural traditions to mimic those experienced at home. While the Indian American diaspora from this time period is very heterogeneous, Jacobsen and Kumar identify some common threads, most notably the desire to “preserve their culture and maintain it and pass it on to the next generation” (xiv). ACK filled an important need for these immigrants, but it also seemed to strike a chord with this second generation (mostly born in the late 1970s and early 1980s), for whom visual elements such as the Indian clothing and food and Hindu puja ceremonies were likely to resonate with aspects of their home lives that were entirely absent from American popular culture at the time. Pai’s focus on the ‘pleasant’ was also likely to resonate with diaspora parents, who wanted to show as well as tell their children about India through a sentimental lens that erased the unnecessarily ‘unpleasant.’ Keeping that in mind, let us now actually look at the some of the visual influences on ACK, as well as ACK illustrations themselves, to better understand the series’ resonance, as well as some of its controversy.

Visual Representations of Hindu Superheroes – Deities & the Domestic

The following are a series of images in chronological order, representing Ravi Varma’s work, calendar art from the 1970s, and illustrations from ACK. All the images are of Siva and Parvati. This is to provide continuity and a point of comparison, as they are both highly recognizable deities. However, they are a particularly appropriate because they are both a divine couple and members of a divine family, thereby negotiating similar issues raised by Uberoi’s ‘Heroic Family’ in 1960s Indian calendar art and the Indian diasporic family in the 1970s and 80s America. These images of Siva and Parvati all have elements the nationalistic, sacred, and domestic implications. Let us pay special attention to these three themes as we move forward.

FIGURE 1: “Shiva & Parvati as Hunters” (Ravi Varma Press, c. 1900), (Neumayer 113).

This image is a good representation of Varma’s early work – Indian subjects in a European style. To the knowing eye, Siva’s divine identity is made clear by his trident, serpent garland, tiger skin, the markings on his forehead, and the crescent moon in his hair. We also see an image traditionally associated with Parvati – snow-covered mountain. Yet there is an apparent tension with the national in this image, not so much because of the European style, but because the background recalls the Swiss Alps more than the Himalayas. Perhaps this is because of the painting’s ‘gentility.’ Siva’s beard and Parvati’s hair are closely cropped in the refined styles of the time, and the headdress on Parvati is notably Victorian. Despite this gentility, there is a tension with domesticity. Siva and Parvati are presented as both a domestic and “wild” – a humanized depiction of deities who traditionally preside in the heavens. Certainly, Varma’s illustration raises questions regarding what it means to be Indian, domestic, and in this case, deified.

FIGURE 2a: “Shiva & Parvati in OM?” (H.N. & Sons, c. 1965), (Neumayer 118).

2b: “Shiva & Parvati” (ACK Cover: Tales of the Mother Goddess, 1970s).

These images are meant to be looked at in juxtaposition to one another. The first one is a popular calendar art image from the mid-1960s – around the same time Pai conceived of ACK. In this painting, Siva and Parvati are seemingly posing for a family portrait with their son, Gan)esa. They are presented as a middle- to upper-class family, as indicated by Parvati’s lavish clothing – a marked change from Varma’s painting. Furthermore, Gan)esa and Siva, both warrior gods, have rather harmless expressions. Still, their sacredness is undisputed, as they are seated on a lotus as a serpent forms an OM overhead. Yet there is no mistake that the deities here are first and foremost a family. To return to Uberoi’s discussion of Hindu nationalist posters from the 1960s and -70s, Siva and Parvati very much represent the ideal ‘Heroic Family’ here. Finally, in comparison to Varma’s image, the figures in this painting are much more obviously Indian. Siva and Parvati’s hair isn’t as closely cropped, the epithets signifying that they are Hindu deities are more obviously displayed, and the setting as well as the clothing are a far cry from elements found in traditional European painting. This shift is significant, considering that this style of image is the most prevalent today, and the most likely to be found in a Hindu-American home. That being said, the similarities between these images are obvious. Once again, they are seemingly posing for a portrait as a couple, with their divine splendor on display in the form of the Himalayas, the trident, and the halo. The major difference is the return to ‘ordinary’ life, as in the Varma image. We see a domestic Siva and Parvati, as opposed to being on display at a temple or personal prayer area. While there is a negotiation of the family, the sacred, and even the national in both images, the ACK one shows us what deities do at home.

FIGURE 3: Panels from the “Shiva and Parvati” ACK (India Book House, 1970s).

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These images of Siva and Parvati present the god and goddess ‘at home’ in everyday human settings and interactions, most notably courtship, domestic partnership, and eventually starting a family. In fact, the entire focus of this edition is how Parvati – a fiery goddess with many stories of her own – wins Siva over into marrying her. While some of the traditional epithets are there – Siva’s blue complexion, serpent garland, tiger skin, forehead markings, and long hair with the crescent moon – there are other elements that detract from the religiosity of the images. Siva’s trident, although on the cover of the issue, is missing in his day-to-day interactions, making him seem more human. Neither he nor Parvati have halos above their heads, and Parvati’s dress is surprisingly simple – neither royal nor divine. It is particularly interesting that Parvati, traditionally described as ‘the black one’ in Puranic texts, is presented as so fair-skinned. She is also much more sexualized in her poses and body type, while Siva is presented as hyper-masculine with his dominating stance in his interactions with Parvati, as well as with his chiseled features and almost superhuman muscles. It is likely these are influence from the American comic book medium, but they also hearken back to Uberoi’s description of the ideal “Heroic Family” from Hindu nationalist posters in the -60s and -70s. Still, this sends a rather mixed message to the viewers – how are they to perceive Siva and Parvati? To the Indian-American readers, these panels present a familiar scene of great fascination to them – dating. Siva’s flirtations and Parvati’s whispers to her girlfriends in these panels are played up, presenting the scene as something Indian-American youth might see on television shows for their age group. The difference, however, is that Siva and Parvati are a divine couple, fated to be married. Thus, Siva and Parvati’s behavior is justified by their imminent marriage. While the national doesn’t come into play in these images, the sacred and the domestic are very entwined.

These panels illustrate Pai’s didactic model being carried out. Siva and Parvati are meant to serve as role models of the ideal courtship, marriage, and partnership. However, this raises two issues. First, Siva and Parvati were traditionally an argumentative couple in the Puran)as – an element that’s lost in Pai’s storytelling. This in and of itself is not necessarily a problem, but Siva and Parvati take on extremely gendered roles, with Parvati being sacrificing (winning Siva over through austere devotion and penance), sexualized, and ultimately submissive in her role as a wife. When we couple this with other issues, like Parvati’s fair complexion and her supposedly ideal courtship, one has to ask what is being taught to young readers. Are these just stories about Hindu deities or are they meant to serve as models of behavior? Does it matter to what extent Pai changes these stories from the Puranic text if children are learning about Indian culture?

The answers to these questions are complex, but I should state that I believe ACK is a useful project that has paved the way for a distinct Indian cultural education and body of children’s literature. That being said, because of the impact of these comics, which have reached tens of millions of readers, it is important to analyze the information being presented. If ACK is meant to educate, as well as morally instruct, what are the values being instructed? Evidence suggests that it is a rather traditional, Hindu system of values, as evidenced by its extreme popularity with Hindu conservative groups like the RSS (Chandra 28). Yet this popularity alone does not mean that ACK has been in any way harmful to its other readers. In fact, that might be giving it too much power. Still, the question of “accuracy” is an important one, and perhaps the most difficult to answer. On the one hand, Pai can be criticized for presenting an alternative view of history by deviating from actual events and religious texts. On the other hand, all histories represent choices that were made on what events to include and leave out – inherent editorial decisions that affect the way history is told. Similarly, trying to identify an ‘original’ text is equally problematic. In the case of texts like the Ramayan)a or the Puran)as that were originally oral, it is difficult to say that the first written version (or Ur-text) was in fact also the first orally circulated story, which was likely to have morphed over time prior to the text being written down (Richman 5).8 Indeed, Pai’s stories are new retellings in a long line, making it problematic to call them inaccurate. However, we do know that Pai studied multiple versions of the texts he retold in ACK, and that did make alterations according to what was unpleasant, as well as what met his specific goals of morally guiding children and instructing them in India’s glorious past. He has been directly criticized for mass-producing a “cleansed epic for the consumption of the modern, liberalizing, pseudonationalistic middle-class India” (Udayakumar 45). With this in mind, let us look at the “Tales of the Mother Goddess” ACK, involving Siva and Parvati, to better understand Pai’s goals.

Siva and Parvati: Puranic Version vs. ACK

As we established in our visual analysis, Siva and Parvati were slowly ‘tamed’ over time to seem more palatable to middle-class Hindu sensibilities. In the case of ACK, we see perhaps the most domesticated version, which we will later examine in relation to its impact on second generation Indian Americans. But first let us examine how Siva and Parvati’s story differs from a popular Puranic version. Let us begin our comparison with the ACK version of “Sati and Shiva,” the story preceding “Shiva and Parvati” in the Tales of the Mother Goddess anthology. Parvati is a reincarnation of Sati, Siva’s first wife, and their stories meld together in the Siva-Puran)a. While there are many differences between the Puranic and ACK versions, we will focus on three examples that illustrate a significant shift in meaning towards nationalistic ideals of family: the reasoning behind Sati’s self-immolation, the treatment of Sati’s body, and Parvati’s relationship with her parents.

The story of Sati’s self-immolation has had significant impact on women’s issues. In both the Puran)as and ACK, the primary incident of the story is that Daks*a, Sati’s father, insults his son-in-law Siva by not inviting him and Sati to a sacrifice. He feels he has been disrespected, but in Sati’s eyes (and in the audience’s) Siva’s behavior is justified by his divinity. Sati goes to her father’s sacrifice in protest (after urging Siva to grant permission) and immolates herself on the sacrificial pyre. But the reason behind Sati’s behavior is where the Puran)as and ACK diverge subtly yet considerably. Prior to Sati’s immolation in the Siva-Puran)a she says, “Dear father, you are not worshipping properly according to the rules of the god who commands all beings from Brahma to the Pisacas! … Daks*a, you have insulted my husband before me for no good reason, the great lord of the world in whom no faults exist” (Dimmitt 173). Sati speaks fervently and her immolation part of a greater dharmic order – a conscious protest against her father’s misconduct. But in the ACK, the emphasis shifts to the relationship between Daks*a and Sati. Rather than Sati explaining proper conduct to her father, she is virtually silent, speaking once to her father saying, “You are vain and wicked. I am ashamed to call myself your daughter … I will cast off this body of mine as a worthless corpse … My Lord [Siva], I shall come back to you when I am born of a father I can respect” (Pai 16-17). In the ACK version, the sense of dharmic order is lost, and her self-immolation is seen more as a quarrel between father and daughter. Sati’s obedience, illustrated by her inability to explain to her father why his behavior was wrong, diminishes her divine significance by omitting this important lesson of conduct she teaches in the Siva-Puran)a. The story becomes one of familial relationships in which a daughter represents the moral fiber of a family. While she cannot publicly criticize her father using words, her actions (even if self-sacrificial) show the correct path. In the end, Daks*a sees the error of his ways through Sati’s self-sacrifice, but a key message seems to be that after marriage, a woman’s loyalty shifts to her husband and the only room for disobedience to one’s father is for the sake of one’s husband.

As discussed earlier, another part of Pai’s commitment to teaching family values is his omission of ‘unpleasant’ incidents from the ACK. And so, while he deems Sati’s immolation as necessary to the story, he deems another major incident too ‘unpleasant’ to include. In the Puranic version of the story, Siva is overcome with grief over Sati’s death. He carries her body with him throughout the universe, causing cosmic disruptions. In order to restore order, Vis*n**u has to track down the grief-stricken Siva and cut off parts of Sati’s body until nothing is left for Siva to carry. “The pieces of her corpse fall to the earth; wherever a bit of her body lands, a sacred place, called a pit*ha, is established, where goddesses of various names and types become the objects of worship” (Kinsley 38). At the site where Sati’s yoni, or reproductive organ, falls to the earth, it is believed that Siva descends in the phallic form of the li?nga and “plunges himself into her, where the two remain conjoined permanently” (38). This is extremely significant – it situates Sati as the source of a number of goddess temples. More importantly, Siva’s grief is important, as his decision to join with Sati permanently in sexual union literally brings him to earth, making this site of union the most holy pit*ha of all (39). In the ACK version of Sati’s story, this is omitted entirely. While the sexual implications may not be suitable for children, it seems curious that Siva’s grief and Sati’s role in establishing these holy pit*has are both left out altogether. If Pai has altered other aspects and other stories to make them more ‘pleasant’ for children, why not do the same for this central plot element? Furthermore, why is the beheading of Daks*a by Siva to teach him a lesson included, while Sati’s divine dismemberment is excluded? Just as Daks*a is brought back to life with the head of a goat, we know that Sati is reborn as Parvati in her next life. The omission of the formation of the holy pit*has removes any aspect of the public, political, or even religious regarding Sati.9 She is relegated to the domain of the domestic as an upper-class daughter and wife whose role is supporting her divine husband.

Our last example takes us to Sati’s reincarnation, Parvati, who is born to be Siva’s consort, yet has to prove win him over through austere asceticism. In the Siva-Puran)a, her mother expresses disapproval, and her father ambivalence, over this. Parvati’s mother Mena even gives her the nickname Uma, meaning “O don’t!,” as a plea to stop her from abandoning the household and going to the forest to perform tapas (Dimmitt 158). Mena becomes even more outraged when she sees Siva for the first time. “She cannot believe that her beautiful daughter is about to marry such an outrageous-looking character; in some versions Mena threatens suicide and faints when told that the odd-looking figure in the marriage procession is indeed her future son-in-law” (Kinsley 43). But Parvati’s father Himavat is more aware of his daughter’s divine fate. Upon hearing her plans to perform asceticism in the forest, he merely says, “So be it!” (Dimmitt 159). He is a much less vocal figure in Parvati’s marriage.

In the ACK version, these roles are quite different. Parvati’s mother asks her to give up her quest for Siva – a request Parvati refuses. However, she only proceeded to the forest for her asceticism when “Menaka, shaking her head, blessed Parvati” (Pai 17). Here, her mother is more of an ambivalent figure. Rather than her father being ambivalent, in the ACK version he is enthusiastically supportive of his daughter’s quest. He responds to her request to perform asceticism with a warm hug and a reply of, “So be it, my beloved child” (16-17). This affectionate support continues throughout the ACK version, in which Himavat is always available for a hug when it seems Parvati’s quest for Siva might fail. These changes place the emphasis of the ACK version on domesticity. First, Parvati’s relationship with her father continues the theme of building strong father-daughter relationships established in the Sati ACK. Furthermore, Parvati’s mother’s role in discouraging her asceticism is downplayed, while Himavat is presented as the primary decision-maker who is responsible for the successful marriage of his daughter – a major paternal responsibility in Hindu culture. Just as with Sati, Parvati’s strength as a goddess is downplayed to present her as an obedient wife and daughter.

Certainly, the textual analysis above illustrates how minor changes can create a big difference in terms of overall message. In particular, we see themes of patriarchy, obedience to one’s husband as god, and commitment to one’s family as common threads in the ACK versions. The domestic, sacred, and national all become intertwined, sending the message that these are the three most important qualities for a good Indian wife to hold dear. This becomes problematic for the particular segment of the Indian American diaspora we’re examining – the generation born to the first major wave of post-1965 immigrants – considering that they were struggling between two seemingly separate identities and trying to keep ‘tradition’ alive more than successive waves and generations. What does home, country, and even religious tradition mean for individuals in this group? These are all contested sites of identity, particularly for second generation women. Anant Pai initially created ACK to fill in for grandmothers as storytellers when the nuclear family, rather than the joint-family, started to emerge as the norm in urban areas. This suggests that women carry the majority of the burden of culturally educating the next generation. As Kirin Narayan discusses in her essay on narrative tradition in the South Asian American diaspora, while male relatives tell stories of sacrifice and family narratives, women tell the more didactic “stories to live by” (420-421). Yet how are Indian American women, who already are removed from the homeland, supposed to fulfill this role? We explore this anxiety in greater detail with anecdotes from second generation women.

Narrative Traditions in the South Asian American Diaspora

The textual analysis above illustrates how Anant Pai’s editorial decisions to include or exclude selected portions of the original stories are far more significant in meaning than simply omitting portions that are too ‘unpleasant’ for children. That being said, how much has ACK actually influenced the South Asian American diaspora? As we discussed earlier, while ACK has competitors in the Indian market, it is still the comic book of choice in the Indian American diaspora when it comes to educating children about Hindu mythology. And as we briefly touched upon above, there is an element of anxiety amongst second generation women regarding how they will instruct their own children about India. Still, would an Indian American girl, born in a time when Indian culture was not yet mainstream in America, read the “Shiva and Parvati” ACK and internalize messages regarding her relationship to the male members of her family? In order to assess this, we need to understand how narrative tradition has been formed in our chosen segment of the diaspora, and to what degree the ACK comic books figure into this.

Frances Pritchett describes her experience at Columbia University with her second generation Indian American students, for whom these comics – a source of “real enjoyment” – have “replaced grandmothers as the primary source of stories about India” (76). This is very much in line with Pai’s vision for ACK, but only represents part of the picture. In her work, Kirin Narayan interviews second generation Indian Americans about their experiences with ACK as children, and the answers are quite different from Pritchett’s findings. One compelling story is that of Prakash, who would buy ACKs while visiting India as a teenager, and then use them as a cover for more subversive reading, like Hustler magazine (428). Even children who didn’t find the ACKs boring took pleasure in them, whether it was because or in spite of the fact that they were learning about India (much to their parents’ joy). Narayan interviewed Arjun who loved reading the ACK version of Mahabharata, not because he was devoted to Hindu mythology, but because as an Indian American he identified with the character Karna’s struggle to cope with his position as a social outcaste (429). Furthermore, there were parents who didn’t use aides like ACK at all to teach their children about Hindu and Indian culture, relying entirely on family stories – or sometimes nothing at all. But perhaps the most common use of ACK was parents supplementing their own family stories with the comic book versions, creating a new Indian American narrative altogether. For example, Narayan shares ‘composite’ versions of the story of Gan)esa with a “distinctively American flavour,” in which the elephant god gets his head cut off because he is playing “hide-and-go-seek” while his mom Parvati is “in the shower,” when his father Siva comes home, thinks there is a “burglar” hiding in the closet, and cuts Gan)esa’s head off (426). And so, we see from these examples that there is no singular narrative tradition of middle-class Indian Americans – and therefore, no singular way that ACK can fit in.

In order to get a better sense of how second generation, middle-class, Indian American women specifically experienced ACK as children, I conducted interviews of my own.10 I interviewed a large sampling of women from an identified sub-section of the Indian American community from different parts of the country with different levels of exposure to the ACK. For the purpose of this paper, I chose four interviews to share, based on their varied experiences with ACK. To protect the identities of the women, I will use pseudonyms.

Soha, who is in her 20s and from the Seattle area, first heard about ACK comic books just a few years ago when she was working in India. As a Muslim-American, she wanted to better orient herself with Hindu mythology and out of curiosity, turned to ACK as her “Cliff’s Notes” on Hinduism. It is quite interesting that Soha associates ACK with Hindu rather than Indian values, adding that she would share ACK with her children “because I feel it would be important for my kids, even if they may not grow up as Hindu, to be familiar and aware of Hindu stories.” Much like Soha, Meghana, 26 and originally from Mississippi and Kansas, had no exposure to ACK as a child. In fact, her first time seeing the comic book was when I showed her a panel from the “Shiva and Parvati” ACK. Meghana sees the comic book medium as a “hokey” way of teaching children about Hindu culture, adding that she would not use ACK to educate her kids based on the panel she saw because:

“I do not want my children to associate spirituality or Hinduism with guilt.11 I think with kids, I’d focus more on the lessons I drew from my academic study of the Bhagavad Gita ... or the prayers my mother taught me to different gods for different things: Kali for strength; Ganesh for success; Lakshmi for wealth; Sarasvati for brains (Ganesh too); and Krishna and Andal for love and babies. I think the prayers I do to those gods for these various wishes are beautiful and spiritual – for some reason in a way that it not guilt-ridden.”

And so, for these women who did not grow up reading ACK comic books, there is no sense that ACK will help lift the burden of teaching their children about their own cultures. For Soha, an Indian American Muslim, ACK does not actually deal with her own culture, while for Meghana, the message is one of guilt that she would rather not pass on to her children.

That being said, how did women respond who did grow up reading these comic books? Amisha, in her late 20s and from the Philadelphia area, learned about ACK from her older cousins as a child and read them eagerly from an early age. “These were my first religious texts,” she said. “My grandparents used to read them to my younger brother and sister as well.” Indeed, this sounds very much in line with Pritchett’s interviews with her Columbia students, as well as Pai’s intended use for the comic books within the Indian American diaspora. But equally important is the way Amisha affirms their value with a disclaimer: “I would share these stories [with my kids] because they were so important to me growing up. However, I could never allow for them to stand in as a way to learn about India, Indian culture, religion or history as my parents did when I was younger. I don’t think that they reflect the complexity of Hinduism or Indian history.” Like Amisha, Supriya, in her mid-20s and originally from New Jersey, also grew up reading the ACK comic books. She said that she would use ACK to educate her children not only for “nostalgia’s sake,” but because she feels an anxiety over never fully being able to convey Indian cultural and tradition to her children. “Amar Chitra Katha itself is so uniquely Indian,” she said, “and seeing as how I am already one generation removed from my motherland, I feel like having my children read ACK is just as good as if I tell them the stories myself.” Both Amisha and Supriya grew up on the East Coast in the densest and oldest South Asian community in America, perhaps explaining their exposure to ACK, which has been available at Indian shops in the area since the 1970s. But despite this, neither one sees ACK as an ideal method of educating children about Indian and Hindu values. Amisha notes that she would not use ACK as extensively as her parents did with her, and would supplement them with other materials. Supriya, while saying she would use ACK to educate her children, adds that she would do so out of anxiety over her own inadequacy as a ‘non-Indian’ trying to teach these values. For her, ACK is ‘good enough.’

What we learn from these interviews is that ACK has lost its relevance to a degree with second generation Indian Americans as they are now old enough to consider how they will educate their own children on Indian tradition and culture. However, while the comic books now seem to serve as nostalgic kitsch for adults of the same age in India, many Indian Americans still see ACK as a valuable teaching aide for their children. It is also important to note that these women, ranging from lower to upper-middle class backgrounds, are now all pursuing graduate degrees and are very self-aware of what it means to be an Indian-American today – a position that allows them to turn a retrospectively critical eye at the books they read as children. In particular, they are aware of cultural stereotypes in America about the significance of marriage in Indian culture, as well as sentiments on marriage in their own community. For example, Soha felt the theme of the “Shiva and Parvati” ACK resonated with her because it reminded her of a Bollywood movie “where a girl is preoccupied with preparing, imagining for her ideal husband ... the entire purpose of her being seems to be the desire or plan for marriage.” While this is not Soha’s experience of marriage from her parents, it is a theme she identifies as central to the Indian community beyond ACK. Narayan addresses this in her essay, relaying family stories of marriage that left very strong impressions on children. For example, Narayan interviewed Dinesh, whose parents told him stories of “desis that marry out of caste or class and of course the most significant, marry a Caucasian,” who always ended up divorced (422). Similarly, another one of Narayan’s interviewees “chafed” at the thought of being raised as “the perfect Indian woman,” adding her concern for the little Indian girls taught “to be the family stronghold when the family needs it. If everyone else has broken down, you can’t break down. But if someone else has control, then you let them have control” – not unlike the values we analyzed above in the “Shiva and Parvati” and “Sati and Shiva” ACK comic books (423).

Ultimately, what we learn from these interviews is that ACK is a tool, rather than a full replacement for educating second generation Indians about their parents’ culture and history. As a result, it is only as powerful as parents allow it to be in delivering Pai’s didactic messages about the already confusing issues of family, religion, and nationality. However, what did come through in these interviews is that ACK provided access to material about India that these women may not have otherwise been exposed to as children. In many cases, ACK opened up additional avenues of exploration, making it a useful yet increasingly obsolete project. While sales of ACK may be dipping, its influence has not diminished, and if anything, is the predecessor of a number of cutting-edge comic books in India today.

Conclusion: Making an Impact – ACK’s Legacy

In this paper, we followed the trail of ACK’s inception in the 1970s to its reception today by second generation Indian Americans, who are likely to use the comic books (despite their shortcomings) as tools in educating their children regarding Indian values and culture. On the way, we explored the political and artistic influences on ACK creator Anant Pai’s editorial decisions, most notably Raja Ravi Varma, that infused his comic books with sentiments of family values and nationalism, yet also illustrated the gods and goddesses in a manner that helped them resonate with children. That being said, while it is impossible to know Pai’s agenda with certainty, Pai’s concerns about ‘unpleasantness’ were actually related to educating children and shielding them from ‘unpleasantness’ of India’s contemporary situation at the time.

But perhaps the reason ACK lost its edge is that India’s economic and political situation has changed drastically since the inception of the project. Pai, a true businessman, sensed these changes and created the monthly children’s magazine Tinkle as supplement to ACK in the 1980s. In time, it took on a life of its own, telling secular stories in a lighter and more humorous tone and including games and puzzles, much like Highlights in America. Tinkle continues to be successful today, which suggests that Pai has let go of his hold on a particular version of India’s ‘glorious past’ and has accepted the changes as they take place.

Following in ACK’s footsteps were a number of other comic book series. In the late 1970s, The Times of India released a line of comics called Indrajal that was successful for fourteen years, telling secular stories that closely resembled American comic books, but with Indian protagonists and settings. Indrajal’s downfall is attributed to the fact that it never branched out into languages other than Hindi or Bengali – a marked difference from ACK’s publication in over ten Indian languages (Rao 52-52). Diamond Comics learned from Indrajal’s mistakes, making it the leading comics publisher today. It faces minor competition from Raj and Manoj Comics, but these comic books, with elaborate plots and villains, are more for a teenage audience (58-60). In addition to featuring creative, funny, and non-secular stories for children, Diamond Comics operates on good business sense. Reprints of ACK are now presented by Diamond Comics – an example of corporate synergy befitting India’s new economy.

That being said, Diamond Comics is certainly in no position to rest easy. ACK’s legacy is not yet ready to be put to rest. Anant Pai published an edition, released in both India and America, on deceased Indian astronaut Kalpana Chawala just last year, despite reports that ACK would no longer be putting out new issues. The featuring of a contemporary young woman in the field of science seems rather out of character for the Pai we discussed earlier, who was pining away for India’s glorious past. But if we look at the recent ACK catalog, it does in fact make sense. Two of the more recent ACK issues (published in 2004) were about members of the Tata family, founders of the steel company, which has gone on to become one of India’s most successful corporations (ACK Web site, Catalogue). And so, perhaps ACK is now looking forward rather than back and Anant Pai is choosing to represent a different glorious India – one that is a global economic and scientific leader. Indeed, Pai’s shift does not come too soon, as there has been a very recent resurgence in Indian comics and Hindu mythology that will be tough competition. An article from India’s Business Today detailed these trends in a November 2006 article. In addition to an animated movie about a young Hanuman being the most successful feature-length cartoon in India to date (a sequel is in the works), two Indian CEOs at the Bangalore-based Virgin Comics are releasing a hipper, more vividly written and elaborately illustrated line of comic books on Hindu mythology (Mahalingam, 11/19/06). These comics may have a scope that ACK never did – they are currently in the top 100 of mainstream US comic books (Rajwade, 3/27/07). Perhaps Pai is acknowledging that ACK’s formula, including stiff language and historical themes, is growing obsolete, which is why he is looking into new territory. Yet I don’t necessarily believe an ACK-free world is better. To echo Frances Pritchett, Pai has a great responsibility because ACK has the potential to educate, as well as indoctrinate. Regardless, it will be interesting to see how these new comic books hold up to ACK, particularly as the second generation starts to teach their own children about India.








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Catalogue: http://www.amarchitrakatha.com/store/mainpage.asp (accessed April 23, 2007).

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Chatterjee, Partha. The Nation and its Fragments: Colonial & Postcolonial Histories (Delhi:

Oxford University Press, 1995).

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Coomaraswamy, Ananda K. “Hindu View of Art: Historical” in The Dance of Siva: Fourteen

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Mughal Court” in Art Journal, Vol. 49, No. 4 (Winter, 1990).

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Reader in the Sanskrit Puran)as (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1978).

Doniger O’Flaherty, Wendy. Asceticism and Eroticism in the Mythology of Siva (London: Oxford University Press, 1973).

Dwyer, Rachel. Filming the Gods: Religion and Indian Cinema (London: Routledge, 2006).

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Transformation of Religion in South Asia, eds. Babb & Wadley (Philadelphia: University of

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and Religious Traditions (Boston: Brill, 2004).

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Press, 2003).

Kinsley, David. “Parvati” in Hindu Goddesses (Berkeley: University of California, 1997).

Ludden, David. India & South Asia: A Short History (Oxford: Oneworld, 2002).

Mahalingam, T.V. “May the Gods Be With You” in Business Today (November 19, 2006).

McLain, Karline. Whose Immortal Picture Stories? (Austin: University of Texas, 2005).

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Diaspora” in South Asians in the Diaspora, eds. Knut A. Jacobsen & P. Pratap Kumar

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Summary of ACK “Sati & Shiva”: The god Brahma wanted Shiva (the god of destruction) to get married. So, he arranged for a daughter (Sati) be born to his son, King Daksha. When Sati was of marrying age, Brahma convinced Sati’s parents that her mate should be Shiva. In order to win Shiva over, Sati became an ascetic and prayed to Shiva. This impressed Shiva, who agreed to marry Sati. One day, Sati’s father invited Shiva and Sati to a puja at his home. Shiva and Sati attended, but Shiva, being god, did not stand up when King Daksha entered the room. Daksha saw this – a son-in-law failing to pay respects to his father-in-law – and grew enraged. He vowed to teach Shiva a lesson and held another puja, this time failing to invite Shiva and Sati. While Shiva understood that Daksha simply misunderstood his divinity, Sati was inconsolable and insisted on attending the puja anyway. When she arrived, her father ignored her and insulted Shiva, calling him uncouth. Sati, speechless with anger, vowed to be reborn to a father she could be proud of. And so, she threw her body onto the prayer pyre, killing herself and sparking a celestial war between Shiva and Brahma. Ultimately, Shiva won, granted King Daksha forgiveness, and returned to Mt. Kailas, vowing to never remarry.


THE PROJECT: The Amar Chitra Katha (ACK) comic book retellings of Indian history, culture, and literature have figured significantly into the popular imagination of South Asian youth for almost thirty years now. They are prominent in most Indian public school libraries, as well as in the cultural education of the first generation South Asian diaspora. However, the creator of this comic book series, Anant Pai, is often criticized for publishing highly nationalistic and family-friendly versions of the original texts or events, with a notable lack of Muslim and female voices. While these comic books are becoming novelty items in India, they are still actively used by the South Asian American diaspora to educate their children on Indian culture. For this project, I am conducting interviews with first generation South Asian American women (born to immigrant parents in the US) who are in their 20s but have not yet had children of their own. The questions below focus on previous exposure to ACK, your perceptions of it, and if/how you might use ACK to educate their own children. The goal is to assess how ACK fit into the cultural education of first generation Indian American women and whether the comic book series will continue to be influential with successive generations.

NOTE: You are not required to participate in this study if you do not feel comfortable sharing answers to the questions below. If you do choose to participate, please give me your oral consent prior to our discussion. The answers you provide via a verbal interview may be used in my MA paper on Amar Chitra Katha in the South Asian American diaspora. However, all names will be changed to protect the privacy of participants. Please feel free to talk to me about questions or concerns you may have.

Please examine the panel taken from the Amar Chitra Katha version of Sati and Shiva on the reverse side of this sheet – I’ve provided a brief summary of the story so you can better contextualize the panel. Once you’ve read the panel, please answer the following questions:

  1. Are you familiar with the Amar Chitra Katha comic books? If yes, to what degree and how did you first learn about them? If no, what are your first impressions based on this panel?

  1. Please comment on the panel above. What are your thoughts on things like the language, illustrations, format etc.? Do the themes resonate with you? Why or why not?

  1. What sort of stories (Amar Chitra Katha comic books AND/OR oral stories) did your parents share with you about South Asia?

Thank you for your time.

Shiwani Srivastava

MA Candidate

South Asian Studies

Jackson School of International Studies

shiwani@u.washington.edu