How do we want our Gods? More human than human
Ram sport a beard? And if he did, or didn't, how are we to know? If an overwhelming number of people believe that he was clean-shaven, isn't that enough for us to consider the matter settled then — that the deity-king was as smooth on chin as Lord Salman is on chest?
The 'beard' issue has been festering in my head for quite some time now. The heady partnership of mob and media may not have picked up on it yet. But a recent conversation about 'How on Earth did we fix the way our gods look?' — including the remarkable transformation of the West Asian, brown-skinned, dark-haired Jesus into a blond Haight Ashbury hippie dude — made my salt'n'pepper thoughts on the matter bristle again.
One thing's for sure — as much as one can be sure about things like these: it's certainly unlikely that (wo)man created god in her/his own image. You only have to see your neighbours. Unless, that is, your neighbours' ancestors couldn't stand the idea of normal-looking devis aur devas, so had them 'made' super-real/surreal, desi Barbie-style perfect?
All standard depictions of an adult Ram show him without a trace of facial hair. It was in the late 19th-early 20th century that the 'modern' depiction of Ram — not podgy, not lanky, but with the right set of abs and air of benevolence that many IIM toppers have — 'solidified' with the mass market production of affordable prints rolling out of Ravi Varma Fine Art Lithographic Press from 1894. For the first time, thanks to master of (Western classical figures-inspired) mytho-art Raja Ravi
