Of Solitude and Spectacle: The Enduring, Evolving Paradox of the Indian Ascetic 

The Indian ascetic, or sadhu, far from being a static relic of the past, is a dynamic and perpetually evolving figure whose representation has shifted dramatically across time. A new exhibition, “The Body of the Ascetic,” explores this journey, revealing how the ascetic has been imagined from a symbol of spiritual withdrawal to a subject of artistic introspection, a political rebel, and a modern-day influencer.

The show traces this transformation through diverse artworks, from Bireswar Sen’s meditative Himalayan miniatures and Nandalal Bose’s introspective monochromes, which offer a humane vision of renunciation, to colonial-era depictions that oscillated between branding ascetics as lawless rebels and celebrating them as nationalist icons.

In the contemporary era, the ascetic exists in a profound paradox: legally considered to have undergone “civil death” while often commanding vast corporate empires, and being critically examined by artists for hypocrisy even while being glorified in popular culture. Ultimately, the exhibition argues that the ascetic’s enduring power lies in their role as a “non-state player” and a mirror to society, constantly adapting and reflecting India’s deepest spiritual yearnings and worldly contradictions.

Of Solitude and Spectacle: The Enduring, Evolving Paradox of the Indian Ascetic 

The image is instantly recognisable, yet profoundly elusive: the Indian sadhu, seated in lotus position, ash-smeared body against a Himalayan backdrop, eyes closed in deep meditation. It is a postcard cliché of an ancient, spiritual India. Yet, this familiar figure is also one of history’s greatest shape-shifters—a rebel, an artist’s muse, a political insurgent, a corporate guru, and a social media influencer.

The journey of the ascetic from the remote cave to the centre of modern Indian life is a story of constant reinvention, and it is this very paradox that the landmark exhibition ‘The Body of the Ascetic’ at DAG, New Delhi, seeks to unravel. Curated by Gayatri Sinha, the show meticulously pieces together how this figure of withdrawal has remained, against all odds, a dynamic and contested presence, relentlessly shaping and being shaped by the Indian imagination. 

Beyond the Postcard: Filling the Knowledge Gap 

For centuries, the ascetic has been a recurring motif in Indian art, from the serene monks of Ajanta to Jain Tirthankaras and Shiva as the Mahayogi. Yet, as Sinha points out, unlike gods or kings, the sadhu has remained “under-studied and enigmatic.” The exhibition bridges this gap by culling images from DAG’s rich collection, tracing the evolution of the ascetic’s representation through decorative arts, royal patronage, the colonial lens, and finally, the modern artist’s introspection. It reveals a figure who is not a monolithic relic but a fluid concept, perpetually being revered, challenged, and reinterpreted. 

The Meditative Gaze: Bengal’s Introspective Ascetic 

A particularly powerful section of the exhibition is dedicated to the Bengal school, which offered a uniquely humane and introspective vision of renunciation. Here, the ascetic is not depicted performing extreme austerities but is instead captured in a state of quiet, profound being. 

Four miniature paintings by Bireswar Sen serve as a window into this inner world. Created between 1897 and 1974, these tiny works depict vast, mist-laden Himalayan vistas. Against these grand, almost overwhelming landscapes, a solitary sadhu is present, not as a fleeing fugitive from life, but as one who has arrived at a profound inner refuge. “Sen spent long periods in the Himalayas and developed a highly refined miniature style. Landscape was never a forte among Indian painters, but in Sen, grand vistas are presented in a very small format, with great success,” notes Sinha. The ascetic here is in harmony with the sublime, a tiny but integral part of the cosmos. 

This meditative language finds another expression in Nandalal Bose’s monochrome watercolours. Moving from the mountains to the sea, Bose employs a loose, fluid brush to capture solitary figures on what is likely the Puri coastline. The curator suggests a deeply personal context: “It is documented that he visited Puri during the death of his father… We gain a sense of a man meditating on the edge of the waters.” Another layer of meaning connects it to the legendary disappearance of the Bhakti saint Chaitanya Mahaprabhu into the sea at Puri. Bose’s genius lies in transcending the personal to touch the mythical with minimal, elegant means. 

This artistic sensibility didn’t emerge in a vacuum. It was deeply rooted in Bengal’s spiritual and literary renaissance—from the ecstatic Vaishnavism of Chaitanya to the reformist ideals of the Brahmo Samaj. Literary giants like Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay (Anandamath) and Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay (Srikanta) recast the sannyasi as a modern, empathetic, and often revolutionary figure, an influence that profoundly shaped the artists of Santiniketan and Calcutta. 

From Rebel to Representative: The Ascetic in the Colonial Crucible 

If the Bengal school offered an introspective view, the colonial encounter dramatically altered the ascetic’s image, politicising his body and casting him in a light of suspicion and awe. 

British colonial authorities viewed wandering bands of ascetics not as holy men but as threats. The militant Sannyasi Rebellion of the late 18th century, where armed monastic orders clashed with the British East India Company, cemented this image of the sadhu as a lawless rebel and a symbol of resistance. Administrators like William Sleeman notoriously branded them “robbers in disguise.” 

This colonial demonisation, however, was met with a powerful nationalist rebuttal that reclaimed the ascetic as a patriot. Bankimchandra’s Anandamath was instrumental in this, its sannyasi-fighters chanting Vande Mataram becoming an enduring icon of the freedom struggle. The ascetic’s body became a battleground for ideology. 

Then, at the cusp of the 20th century, a single figure transformed the global perception of the Indian ascetic: Swami Vivekananda. His iconic appearance at the 1893 Parliament of Religions in Chicago was a masterful performance of spiritual diplomacy. He presented the ascetic not as a wild, ash-smeared mendicant, but as a figure of aristocratic dignity, intellectual depth, and universal wisdom. He successfully projected the Indian yogi onto the world stage, creating an image that continues to resonate globally. 

The Modern Paradox: Civil Death and Corporate Empires 

The post-independence era did not diminish the ascetic’s relevance; it complicated it. The exhibition astutely highlights the central paradox of the modern sadhu: the tension between ideal and reality. 

In a fascinating legal and spiritual contradiction, a sannyasi is considered to have undergone “civil death” upon initiation, renouncing all worldly ties, including property and inheritance. Yet, today, many spiritual leaders command vast, multi-million dollar empires comprising ashrams, universities, hospitals, and media ventures. This disconnect often triggers intense legal battles and institutional strife, revealing the struggle to reconcile ancient religious laws with modern corporate structures. 

Contemporary artists have engaged with this hypocrisy critically. A telling example in the exhibition is a Kalighat Pat painting titled An Ascetic Suckling at a Woman’s Breast. This piece of sharp visual satire punctures the romantic ideal of the renunciate, unmasking the human frailties and exploitative tendencies that can hide behind religious garb. “Traditionally and historically, they have exploited their positions of power in certain ways. That becomes the more contemporary angle,” a docent at the exhibition explains. 

The Eternal Shape-Shifter 

Today, the ascetic is everywhere. He is on television channels preaching wellness, on social media dispensing wisdom in bite-sized clips, on election platforms endorsing political parties, and in corporate boardrooms teaching leadership through the Gita. From a symbol of withdrawal, he has become a ubiquitous presence in the marketplace of ideas and identities. 

‘The Body of the Ascetic’ ultimately argues that the power of this figure lies in his fundamental individuality. “The exhibition seeks to demonstrate that the ascetic, even if he belonged to a sangha, finally operates as an individual,” Sinha asserts. “He is a non-state player, a figure on the margins who has historically been close to dramatic changes in Indian history.” 

Through sculptures, sacred maps like the intricate Shatrunjaya Mahatirtha Pata, colonial photographs, and modern paintings, the exhibition shows that the Indian ascetic is far more than a postcard cliché. He is a mirror. He reflects our deepest yearning for transcendence and our cynical awareness of worldly failings. He is both the critic of society and its product, the renouncer of power and its wielder. In constantly evolving, he proves that the most enduring symbol of an ancient civilization is not its rigidity, but its boundless capacity for adaptation and reinvention. The sadhu, in his endless lives, is ultimately the story of India itself.