{"AuthorName":"Kamal K. Mishra","Description":"

Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 01: Chandrika: Heere ka Haar; Ek Jasoosi Upanyas<\/em> (Chandrika: A Diamond Necklace; A Detective Novel), 1933, Publisher: Bindeshwari Prasad Bookseller, Banaras.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 01<\/a><\/span>Illustrations mediated through commercial print literature and directed towards a reader in the form of book and cover illustrations can undoubtedly provide us a rich variety of impressions that come directly from the transforming and evolving socio-cultural and technological context that produced them. By the early 20th century, novels, along with epic religious tales, secular-themed tales (qisse<\/em>), and printed plays (sangit<\/em>), formed the core of commercial literary print production in colonial north India. Major and minor commercial publishers published editions and translations of these popular literary forms simultaneously in Hindi and Urdu. More often than not, these works were embellished with interesting illustrations (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 01: Chandrika: Heere ka Haar; Ek Jasoosi Upanyas<\/em> (Chandrika: A Diamond Necklace; A Detective Novel), 1933, Publisher: Bindeshwari Prasad Bookseller, Banaras.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 01<\/a>).
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\r\nThis Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 02: Jasoos: Khooni Giraftar<\/em> (Detective: The Murderer Arrested) Banaras, 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 02<\/a><\/span>article explores the shifts from early twentieth century in north Indian popular visual culture by considering a set of printed book and cover illustrations that were published with a newly introduced commercial genre called jasoosi upanyas<\/em> (detective fiction) in Hindi. After discussing the production context(s) of this imagery, this paper will consider through a brief visual analysis, the ways in which the imagery of popular visual culture of north India appears to have been heavily influenced by the world of theatre, and somewhat later by cinema. Situated thus in an “interocular field”, as the following reading of the imagery contained in the imported genre of detective fiction suggests, the images from the early decades of the 20th century carry an obvious theatrical quality, while the images from the 1950s onwards clearly display the influence of cinema (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 02: Jasoos: Khooni Giraftar<\/em> (Detective: The Murderer Arrested) Banaras, 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 02<\/a>).
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\r\nEven before the coming and spread of the print medium in north India, both literate and illiterate audiences were familiar with visual narratives or picture storytelling of one kind or the other. Up until a couple centuries ago, miniature painting was the principal illustrative form that appeared in manuscripts, largely restricted to a small audience of elite patrons. Oral epic traditions in many parts of India sometimes deployed visual narratives, or elaborate storytelling performance using images. Scholars like Mair (1988) trace the prevalent tradition of picture-storytelling and shadow theatre in India to over two millennia, and even today, this tradition can be seen in living Rajasthani performative practices. In Rajasthan oral-epic performances of cult figures like Pabuji and Devnarayan, a singer priest (bhopo<\/em>s) performs a liturgical epic-telling of the life, death and vengeance of their hero-gods. This occurs typically in front of a painted par<\/em> representing the scenes, locations, characters and the cosmos of the epic narrative suffused with the signs and symbols of a natural and human environment. The coming of print, however, revolutionised reading habits and possibilities. It penetrated into all sorts of times and spaces within everyday life by its sheer portability. From at least the nineteenth century on, printed illustrations appearing on the covers and pages of books in Hindi were no doubt a novelty for the greater mass of a newly shaped reading public.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

The images published on the pages and covers of the newly arrived genre of detective fiction is an interesting point of entry into the changing dynamics of north Indian popular visual culture. The novel form with its multiple sub-genres arrived in India during the second half of the 19th century when it was first translated to Bengali and later on in other regional languages. By the last decade of the 19th century, one finds many enterprising Hindi commercial writers shifting their attention towards the newly arrived novel form and novelistic plots, such as detective fiction, full of suspense and mystery. This shift marks a departure from the dominant emphasis in contemporary publishing on pre-existing indigenous oral genres like qisse<\/em> and sangit<\/em>, alongside a heavy dependence on the production of textbooks for government schools. This shift towards the imported novel form in north India helped to establish a far more consistent demand among the readers. This demand also provided commercial writers with the opportunity to become their own publishers and to establish their own regular publishing daftar<\/em>s (offices). Thus, the successful inclusion of the imported novel form with its sub genres, like detective fiction, into the publishing list of north Indian commercial publishers not only helped solve issues such as irregular demand, but also provided the commercial Hindi writer-publisher with a regular reader eagerly awaiting something new. Interestingly, early north Indian commercial Hindi writers often blended old idioms (such as ayyar<\/em>) into the new formula of the detective novel, while making the new intelligible, for himself and for others, beside participating in the process of re-composition of identities that has been the hallmark of colonial modernity.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

ATasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 03: Chor se badh kar chor, ek jasoosi upanyas<\/em> (The Thief who Rivals Another Thief: A Detective Novel). Publisher: Shyamlal Hiralal, Shyamkashi Press, Mathura, 1929.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 03<\/a><\/span>t this juncture, it is important to keep in mind that in the case of detective fiction, as Francesca Orsini has recently suggested, Hindi “translations and adaptations were not only two quite different processes, but one can also look at these processes as two different responses to colonial rule (and the new regime of law) and two different versions of colonial society.” Orsini further notes, “For readers of Hindi translations, Bengaliness worked as a shorthand for (colonial) modernity, as contrary to Hindi adaptations, early Bengali translations depict a colonial society that is already fully adapted to British rule, its agencies and its racial hierarchy” (Orsini 2004: 457). These insights provide us sufficient ground to start our exploration with a select set of images published during the early years of the second decade of the 20th century from a Calcutta-based Hindi commercial publisher (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 03: Chor se badh kar chor, ek jasoosi upanyas<\/em> (The Thief who Rivals Another Thief: A Detective Novel). Publisher: Shyamlal Hiralal, Shyamkashi Press, Mathura, 1929.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 03<\/a>).
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\r\nPublished by Calcutta's popular commercial Hindi publisher Ramlal Varma’s famous Berman & Company, both Gupt Adda<\/em> (The Secret Liar) and Khooni Akshar<\/em> (The Murderous Letters) contain some very interesting 'half-tone' illustrations. Ramlal Varma (1885-1930) of Benaras, himself a Hindi detective fiction writer, became one of the major commercial Hindi publishers in Calcutta during the early 20th century. In 1910, Varma launched a detective monthly, Hindi Daroga Daftar<\/em> (The Hindi Inspector’s Office), which mostly brought out translations of Bengali detective stories. The first two illustrations on this page from the translated Hindi detective fiction Khoonee Akshar <\/em>(Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 04: Khooni Akshar<\/em> (The Murderous Letters), published by Berman & Co. Calcutta for its 'Railway Series', 1928 (Text at the bottom: Magistrate saheb ne kaha, "Dekhiye Girija Babu, yehi akshar hai...<\/em>",)<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 04<\/a> and Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 05: Khooni Akshar<\/em> (The Murderous Letters).<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 05<\/a>) published by Berman & Company, in their obvious theatrical qualities, seem to bear out Orsini’s assertions quoted above.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 04: Khooni Akshar<\/em> (The Murderous Letters), published by Berman & Co. Calcutta for its 'Railway Series', 1928 (Text at the bottom: Magistrate saheb ne kaha, "Dekhiye Girija Babu, yehi akshar hai...<\/em>",)<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 04<\/a><\/span>               Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 05: Khooni Akshar<\/em> (The Murderous Letters).<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 05<\/a><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

These illustrations depict the crime scene, the perpetrator of the crime, and its victim, besides the central character of the modern detective. Both images carry the signature of a certain artist named Bhagwan marked in Hindi nagri<\/em> script. In its representation of the police administration and a 'modern' Bengali detective reading clues at the scene of the crime, the first image seems to confirm the presence of a colonial social order. In the second image, the Bengali detective and his assistant aim a gun at the criminal. This image provides some important clues that allude to a somewhat fraught engagement with western modernity within a modern Bengali setting. Here, the stark difference between the criminal, dressed in western attire, as opposed to the two detectives wearing a mixed traditional cum modern garb (i.e. western style jackets alongside traditional shoes and dhotis) can be read as yet another version of the hybrid Bengali colonial modernity. The presence of sophisticated modern weaponry and the European-style interior can also be taken as attestation to the subtle changes well underway.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Another remarkable feature of these two images is their very obvious theatrical composition. This noteworthy quality of the images can be seen in the ways in which they present their content to the viewer. Reading closely, one cannot but notice the theatrical framing that resembles the setting and view of a proscenium stage, a cultural form introduced into India in the 19th century. In line with this mode of theatrical representation, the characters and setting are positioned in such a way so as to allow maximum visibility to the viewer. Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 04: Khooni Akshar<\/em> (The Murderous Letters), published by Berman & Co. Calcutta for its 'Railway Series', 1928 (Text at the bottom: Magistrate saheb ne kaha, "Dekhiye Girija Babu, yehi akshar hai...<\/em>",)<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 04<\/a> portrays a crime scene in which all the characters in the scene, including the dead body and the visible clue (the murderous letters!), face the viewer. In Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 05: Khooni Akshar<\/em> (The Murderous Letters).<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 05<\/a>, it is the placement of somewhat obstructing architecture and furniture that help to produce an effect of distance between the criminal and the detectives. The theatrical quality and stage-like composition of the image further ensures that the viewer is able to see even the minutest actions of the characters, such as the criminal attempting to bring his revolver out from the drawer.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 06: Gupt Adda<\/em> (The Secret Liar). Copy of the original half tone image Publishers R.L. Berman & Co. Calcutta, Circa 1920 (Text at the bottom: Jasoos Ramsingh aur Jugal Babu baithe huve hain, Manik apni kahani suna rahi hai.<\/em>)<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 06<\/a><\/span>The next image (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 06: Gupt Adda<\/em> (The Secret Liar). Copy of the original half tone image Publishers R.L. Berman & Co. Calcutta, Circa 1920 (Text at the bottom: Jasoos Ramsingh aur Jugal Babu baithe huve hain, Manik apni kahani suna rahi hai.<\/em>)<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 06<\/a>) portrays a migrant Bengali, Jugul Babu, sitting with the north Indian detective Ram Singh on a cot listening to a captive woman named Manik who sits on the floor. The image was published to accompany an adapted Hindi detective novel Gupt Adda<\/em> (The Secret Lair<\/em>) by the same commercial publisher based in Calcutta. The narrative of this detective novel is particularly relevant to a reading of this image. One fine evening, detective Ram Singh and his Bengali friend Jugul Babu go out for a walk on the streets of Benaras city where they come across a beautiful woman singer accompanied by an old woman. Suspecting that the two women were involved in a scheme to kidnap and trade women into prostitution, detective Ram Singh strikes a fake deal with the old woman and manages to reach their hideout. It is here in the secret lair that the detective and his friend meet Manik, a woman who has fallen prey to this racket. Manik tells both of them her own story which provides them with important information. In an interesting series of incidents, the detective with the help of Manik and his friend Jugul Babu, manages to rescue more than thirty women from the hideout run by the Muslim gang leader Sher Khan.
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\r\nInterestingly, looking at The Secret Liar<\/em>, one notices by-now familial theatrical composition and quality. The flat, one-dimensional background, occupied by a few token articles--an oil lamp; empty bottles on the shelf; and a towel hanging from the wall--resembles a painted backdrop one would expect to find on a proscenium stage. Furthermore, the three characters are placed according to their relative importance to the plot, thus confirming notions of hierarchy. Again, as if confirming the conventions of theatre, the composition of the image is done in such a manner so as to allow a viewer complete access to the space and to the three characters.
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\r\nSitting on the floor at the cot’s feet and looking towards the detective Ram Singh and Jugul Babu, Manik, dressed in her traditional north Indian saree, typifies a helpless Hindu woman eagerly waiting to be rescued by the modern (upper-caste male) detective. Sitting on the cot with a walking stick in hand, the migrant Bengali friend Jugul Babu, dressed in typical modern attire, is the detached “outsider. He simultaneously and very practically acts as a compositional device to ensure the viewers’ access to the detective Ram Singh. In a traditional-cum-modern garb, Ram Singh in turn leans towards Manik while listening to her with his hands intently clasped. In such a context, the migrant Bengali friend Jugul Babu seems to be called upon as if to represent yet another variant of colonial modernity in this north Indian setting.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Here the stark difference between the westernized attires of the migrant Bengali friend Jugul Babu and the north Indian (Hindi) detective Ram Singh dressed in dhoti and semi-modern attire deserves some notice. As a north Indian (Hindi) detective, Ram Singh's (hybrid) traditional-cum-modern attires reminds one of the previous re-presentations of the Bengali detective in an original Bengali setting in the image The Murderous Letters. The Secret Liar<\/em>, a half-tone print, carries with it the signature of the artist D.N.Verma of Calcutta in Roman (English) script.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 07: Asli Rani Sarang ka Geet, Saaton janam, barhon bhag sampurna<\/em> (The Original Song of Rani Saranga: All Seven Births and Twelve Volumes Complete). Author: Babu Mahadev Prasad Singh (Agra), Sri Loknath Pustakalaya, Kolkata, date unknown.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 07<\/a><\/span>One also finds the same artist working for other Calcutta-based commercial Hindi publishers, such as the fifty-second edition of a theatrical play (sangit<\/em>) titled Asli Rani Saranga ka Geet<\/em> (The Real Song of Rani Saranga: All Seven Births and Twelve Volumes Complete<\/em>, Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 07: Asli Rani Sarang ka Geet, Saaton janam, barhon bhag sampurna<\/em> (The Original Song of Rani Saranga: All Seven Births and Twelve Volumes Complete). Author: Babu Mahadev Prasad Singh (Agra), Sri Loknath Pustakalaya, Kolkata, date unknown.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 07<\/a>) compiled by another Calcutta-based commercial Hindi publisher. Shree Loknath Pustakalya, too, carries the very same aesthetic characteristics and signature.
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\r\nIn 1930, commercial author-publisher Gopal Ram Gahmari’s Hindi detective monthly Jasoos<\/em> (The detective), published a very interesting illustration in one of his novels titled Jasoos ki Diary<\/em> (The Detective's Diary<\/em>) by an artist called C. B. Sharma (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 08: Jasoos ki Diary<\/em> (Diary of a Detective), a Hindustani detective novel by Gopal Ram Gahmari. Copy of the original half tone image published in the Monthly Jasoos<\/em>, Banaras, 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 08<\/a>). The image shows two women standing along with a man in the background looking at the detective (Gahmari himself!) (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 09: Jasoos Sampadak<\/em> (The Detective Editor), Author Gopal Ram Gahmari. Copy of the original half tone image published in the Monthly Jasoos, Banaras, 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 09<\/a>). The detective in turn sits comfortably on a chair in the centre while appearing to be engaged in a conversation with the woman with a book in her hand, and taking notes in his diary. As it emerges through this image, the personas of both the detective and of the man standing in the background with his hands in his coat pockets, are those of modern men in a modern setting complete with a wall-clock and modern style furniture, while tradition is embodied by the female form clothed in traditional attire. Such uses of the female body in a colonial context also find echoes in Hindu nationalist discourse from the late 19th century onwards in India. In certain discourses of Hindu nationalists, as the work of Tanika Sarkar brilliantly shows, in contrast to the male body which was supposedly remade in an attenuated, emasculated form by colonialism, the female body was seen as pure, unmarked, and loyal to the rule of the shastra<\/em>s. The female body has been tried and appropriated historically for various claims and counter claims revolving around issues of the 'self' and the 'other'. Hegemonic discourses such as nationalism either draw heavily from a metaphorical register that subsumes and harnesses the female body, or simply uses the site to personify and symbolize moorings of different sorts.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 08: Jasoos ki Diary<\/em> (Diary of a Detective), a Hindustani detective novel by Gopal Ram Gahmari. Copy of the original half tone image published in the Monthly Jasoos<\/em>, Banaras, 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 08<\/a><\/span>               Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 09: Jasoos Sampadak<\/em> (The Detective Editor), Author Gopal Ram Gahmari. Copy of the original half tone image published in the Monthly Jasoos, Banaras, 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 09<\/a><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

But what is even more interesting is how this illustration is marked by a particular aesthetic deviation and transition, which, despite its evident theatrical composition, signals a gradual move towards a cinematographic influence that was soon to shape and, in turn, leave a lasting effect on the popular visual culture of north India. It is important to note how the north Indian detective claims the centre stage for himself by way of pushing other (narrative) elements towards the margins. This is enhanced by the fact that the detective’s face, unlike the rest of the painted image, is marked by a very strong realistic aesthetic that goes so far as to resemble a photograph (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 09: Jasoos Sampadak<\/em> (The Detective Editor), Author Gopal Ram Gahmari. Copy of the original half tone image published in the Monthly Jasoos, Banaras, 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 09<\/a>). It must be emphasized that this element of painted (photographic) realism is in stark contrast to the rest of the image and has been used to create a hierarchy of information between characters and specific narrative elements.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Popular Hindi publishing took place in what Christopher Pinney, Jyotindra Jain and others have called an “interocular field” that was initially comprised of theatre and commercial prints. However in due course, this “interocular field” was soon to become largely influenced by the widespread visual language of the newly arrived popular media named cinema. By the 1950s, cinema had not only well established itself as a cultural form, but it also dramatically altered our ways of seeing through the emergence of a newly popular and widespread visual language. Thus, the cover pages of the monthly Naqabposh<\/em> from the early 50s, in contrast to the overt theatrical qualities and composition that so characterised the images from the preceding phase, present to the viewer, despite their common painted form, a composition that is markedly cinematic.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Published from Lucknow in 1951, the monthly Naqabposh<\/em> (‘the best Hindi monthly of detection, mystery, suspense and murder’) typically presented its viewers with a newly developed and distinct cinematic aesthetic presented on its cover pages. Naqabposh<\/em> the monthly that promised to fill its ‘illustrated fictions full of suspense, mystery and surprising incidents’ serially.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 10: Naqabposh<\/em> (the masked), a monthly detective magazine in Hindi.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 10<\/a><\/span>Here the first of the two cover illustrations from the 1951 editions of Naqabposh<\/em> is marked by the appearance of the cinematic frame (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 10: Naqabposh<\/em> (the masked), a monthly detective magazine in Hindi.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 10<\/a>). This use of the ‘frame,’ distinct form the view one would have in a theatre, enables certain elements of the image, such as body parts of characters, to be cut out of the image in order to heighten dramatic intensity and illustrate narrative hierarchy. In order to promote and help create a sense of narrative intrigue, the man in the center appears prominently, holding a pistol in one hand. The other hand is not visible, while the woman accompanying him is only half visible herself, heightening the centrality of the man in the centre.
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\r\nSuch Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 11: Naqabposh<\/em> (The Masked).<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 11<\/a><\/span>cinematic influences on visual language also enabled a certain displacement of linear time, which influenced decisions to bring together different articles and characters resembling and associated with distinct moments in the narrative onto a single page (and in one moment!). In the the second cover illustration from the same monthly, we see a car, a man lying with his eyes closed, a woman looking at the viewer from the edges of the cover, and another man (probably a detective) with an electric torch in hand, all placed within the same frame (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 11: Naqabposh<\/em> (The Masked).<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 11<\/a>). These characters belong to different narrative moments in the story, but have been placed together in a way that, like the effect of editing in cinema, creates a sense of continuity and simultaneity.
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\r\nIn the later half of the 20th century, Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 12: Diler Mujrim<\/em> (the Fearless Criminal). Author: Ibne Safi, A Nakhat pocket book, 1975.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 12<\/a><\/span>commercial publishers of north India made good use in their cover illustrations of the books they printed of this remarkably potent new cinematic visual language that had become widespread. Thus, it is no surprise that Abbas Hussaini, one of the most successful commercial publishers of north India who specialized in publishing detective fictions written by Ibn-e Safi, B.A., for his monthly Jasoosi Duniya<\/em>, had his pocket-sized covers printed in the 1960s and 1970s by Premlata Printers located in Bombay. It was probably due to Bombay printers’ familiarity and expertise in using this new cinematic language that provided them with the additional role of making cover illustrations for commercial Hindi\/Urdu publishers, alongside producing attractive film posters at the same time (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 12: Diler Mujrim<\/em> (the Fearless Criminal). Author: Ibne Safi, A Nakhat pocket book, 1975.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 12<\/a>).
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\r\nThus, Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 13: Jasoos: Ladki ki Chori No.2<\/em> (Detective: The Theft of the Girl, No.2). Editor: Shri Gopal Ram Mehmar Niwasi, June 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 13<\/a><\/span>from this brief exploration of selected book and cover illustrations from Hindi detective fiction published from the early decades of the 20th century through to the 1950s, one can see how popular visual culture of north India was indeed influenced not just by the shifting experiences of colonial modernity, but also by expectations regarding how to see visually that had been highly impacted upon by both theatre and cinema respectively. As this essay suggests, such illustrations from the early decades of the twentieth century bear obvious theatrical qualities while those of the 1950s onwards render a distinctly cinematic influence (Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Fig. 13: Jasoos: Ladki ki Chori No.2<\/em> (Detective: The Theft of the Girl, No.2). Editor: Shri Gopal Ram Mehmar Niwasi, June 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 13<\/a>).<\/p>\r\n\r\n

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Acknowledgements<\/strong>: I am extremely grateful to Ravikant and the friends from Sarai for the kind of trust and regular support they have provided to me. This work would have not been possible without the financial assistance provided by Tasveer Ghar and Sarai under its Independent fellowship Programme in 2006. I am extremely thankful to Christiane Brosius, Manishita Dass and Yousuf Saeed for reading and commenting on the preliminary draft. I am also grateful to Alana for the very fruitful discussions and her constant support and criticism while writing this paper.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Bibliography<\/strong><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Losty, J.P., The Art of the Book in India<\/em>. London: The British Library, 1982.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Losty, J.P., Indian Book Painting<\/em>. London: The British Library, 1986.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Mair, V., Painting and Performance<\/em>. Honolulu, University of Hawaii Press, 1988.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Malik, Aditya, Nectar Gaze and Poison Breath: An Analysis and Translation of the Rajasthani Oral Narrative of Devnarayan<\/em>. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Mazumdar, Ranjani, “The Bombay Film Poster”, Seminar 525<\/em>, May, 2003.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Orsini, Francesca, “Detective Novels: A Commercial Genre in Nineteenth-century North India”, in Blackburn S. and Dalmia V. (eds.) India’s Literary History: Essays on the Nineteenth Century<\/em>. Delhi: Permanent Black, 2004, pp.435-482.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Sarkar, Tanika, Hindu Wife Hindu Nation: Community, Religion and Cultural Nationalism<\/em>. Delhi: Permanent Black, 2000.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Smith, John D., The Epic of Pabuji: A Study, Transcription and Translation<\/em>. Cambridge: Cambrige University Press, 1991.<\/p>","pageBackColor":"#006699","topLineTextColor":"","title":"

Tasveer ka Bhed<\/p>","subTitle":"

Cloak and Dagger Illustrations in Hindi Detective Fiction<\/p>","footNotes":"","authorUrl":"kamal-k-mishra","visitgallery":"Tasveer ka Bhed<\/h4>Kamal K. Mishra<\/span>

Visit the Gallery: Jasoos: Ladki ki Chori No.2<\/em> (Detective: The Theft of the Girl, No.2). Editor: Shri Gopal Ram Mehmar Niwasi, June 1930.<\/p><\/h2>\">Visit the Gallery<\/a>","unsubscriber":1}