Shame is the Sword of Damocles that looms over our heads, following us like a stubborn mid-afternoon shadow as we trudge through life. From the moment we emerge into the world until we are toddling about with gaps in our teeth, we are blissfully spared the guilt of exposing skin. Diaperless tiny bottoms are absolutely adored. Once we start using those legs to walk on our own, the world takes over. The first taunt used in South Asian culture to embarrass us to cover up our childhood social blunders, is the lighthearted rhyme — “Shame, shame, puppy shame, All the monkeys know your name!,” the utterance of which is immediately recognised as humiliating even in that infantile stage of life. From then on, shame follows us through all the miles we walk, constantly reprimanding us for our alleged improprieties. In contemporary times, women have it harder, one must admit. Codes of modest dressing govern her days and any deviation from established norms is used to justify every crime against her. How many times have we heard it stated, “Dressed like that, she asked for it!”.
The imposition of these protocols of decency does not confine itself merely to human existence. Its rigid tentacles extend to everything the human race creates as well. And sometimes, these tentacles stretch out across centuries. The recent case of the Dancing Girl of Mohenjo-daro, the iconic bronze figurine that represents the cultural advancement of the Indus Valley Civilisation, is a perfect example of censorship beyond eras. The statuette, now housed in the National Museum, Delhi, depicts a young girl, one hand on her hip, clothed in only ornaments, striking a defiantly graceful pose. She stands as a testament to the technical sophistication of Indus metallurgists and offers a window into an ancient civilisation whose script remains undeciphered.
However, the bylaws of shame chose to ignore these trivial matters and focus on the larger issue of the lack of attire on her body. This year, the NCERT decided to cover up her bare torso, when she made her routine appearance in the opening chapter of the Class 9 textbook. The backlash was immediate and not confined to just historians and educators. The general public, too, furiously questioned this misrepresentation of an artefact from our proud past. The claims by the authorities that the move was a step towards encouraging the imagination of the student was not accepted in the raging debate. Ultimately, the original image was restored.
Artworks have been altered throughout history, to fit into our moral standards. In 1564, Michelangelo’s famous fresco at the Sistine Chapel, The Last Judgement, was considered indecorous and artist Daniele da Volterra was asked to paint clothing and fig leaves over the nudity. Restoration in the 1980s brought back the original work to a great extent. In 1680, drapery was painted over the female chest in a 1616 painting by Artemisia Gentileschi.
Erasing cultural history deprives future generations of understanding how societies evolved. Artefacts are meant to show us the world as it once was. If every generation insists on clothing the past according to its own standards of propriety, history will soon become a catalogue of our insecurities.
