The Many Forms of the Tiger: A Study in Indian Folk and Traditional Arts
I came across an image recently, and it made me pause. It made me curious—how could one creature, one form, take on so many distinct identities?
The tiger, in its natural world, is a single entity: fierce, powerful, untamed. Yet in the realm of Indian folk and tribal art, it is transformed over and over again, each time carrying a new meaning. Beneath the layered skies of India’s artistic traditions, the tiger prowls—not as a mere beast, but as a symbol, an omen, a guardian, a deity. It is never just one, nor just the same. The tiger—striped and sinewed—becomes a reflection of the many hands that have sought to render it, each line drawn in ink or pigment, each swirl of color imbued with belief, each craft form lending it a different variations—a transformation that is not accidental but deeply intentional.
In this journey through nine Indian folk and tribal art traditions, the tiger appears again and again, yet no two are ever alike. What does this tell us? That the tiger is not one, but many. That no beast remains itself in the hands of an artist. That its form is an inheritance shaped by region, material, and vision.
Let us begin by unraveling these forms.
Phad - Rajasthan
In Rajasthan’s Phad paintings, the tiger does not merely exist—it moves within a narrative, a flowing, portable scroll that sings of epic tales. Painted with mineral colors on cloth or paper, the Phad tiger has an ornamental face, its stripes curling like waves. Its limbs seem caught in a moment of theatrical stride, as if it knows it belongs to a tradition that was meant to be unfurled, read aloud, seen by lamplight, and believed.
Kalamkari - Andhra Pradesh
The Kalamkari tiger, from Andhra Pradesh, is painted in the meditative patience of the pen. This is a craft of fine-line detailing, born in temple towns where fabric became the canvas of devotion. With soft hues extracted from natural dyes—madder for red, iron acetate for black—this tiger carries a sinuous elegance, its stripes less like markings and more like a sacred text unfurling over its body. The artisans, using a kalam (pen), etch stories onto cloth, creating tigers that belong less to the jungle and more to the world of fable.
Aipan - Uttarakhand
The Aipan tiger is a ghost of the mountains—white on red, ritualistic, near-mystic. This is not a tiger that roams, but one that protects. Aipan art, drawn traditionally by women on doorsteps and walls during auspicious occasions, treats the tiger as an emblem of power, guarding thresholds, its swirls reminiscent of the sacred yantras that ward off evil. It is, perhaps, the most minimalistic of the lot, yet it bears the weight of ritual, of lineage, of home.
Thangka - Arunachal Pradesh
From the Buddhist monasteries of Arunachal Pradesh, the Thangka tiger emerges with a coiled intensity. It is not merely an animal but a force—a guardian of the Vajrayana tradition, its muscles taut, its stripes mimicking fire. Tibetan and Himalayan tigers in Thangka paintings often flank wrathful deities, embodying both protection and ferocity. This one, with its high-arched back and spiralling tail, recalls the divine beasts that ride alongside gods.
Madhubani - Bihar
In Madhubani art, the tiger does not roar; it radiates. Painted in a strikingly geometric style, adorned with meticulous patterns, it stands as a testament to Bihar’s ancient folk traditions. Madhubani paintings, originally created by women on mud walls, use a language of line and color where animals become decorative, divine. The tiger, here, is outlined in bold strokes, its body filled with repeating motifs—dots, lines, concentric circles—suggesting that even in its stillness, it vibrates with meaning.
Kalighat - West Bengal
In 19th-century Bengal, the Kalighat painters sat by temple streets, dipping their brushes in quick, confident strokes, creating images that straddled the sacred and the satirical. The Kalighat tiger carries this legacy. It is muscular, expressive, almost exaggerated in its movement. Unlike the structured linearity of Madhubani, the Kalighat style is fluid, its colors applied in broad washes. This is a tiger of performance, ready to leap beyond the paper’s edge.
Warli - Maharashtra
Warli art, drawn by the tribal communities of Maharashtra, has no need for excessive detail. The Warli tiger is pared down to essentials—a skeletal presence, made of stark white lines against earthen backgrounds. The Warli people see the world as a series of connected forms, and here, the tiger becomes a collection of simple strokes, its form less about realism and more about presence.
Pattachitra - Odisha
In Odisha’s Pattachitra tradition, where mythological storytelling is enshrined in delicate brushwork, the tiger walks with a measured grace. Painted on cloth, with natural pigments and fine detailing, this tiger feels like it has stepped out of an epic—perhaps the same scroll that tells of Vishnu’s avatars or the fierce Goddess Durga, who rides her lion into battle. Its elegance is undeniable, its posture poised.
Gond - Madhya Pradesh
The Gond tiger, perhaps the most surreal of the collection, carries the signature of the Pardhan Gond painters—its body a mosaic of pattern, texture, and color. Unlike the Warli tiger, which is reduced to its essence, the Gond tiger is an expansion of form. It is alive with movement, adorned with dappled dots, curved shapes, and an almost hypnotic layering of color. In Gond mythology, animals are not just creatures; they are part of a living, breathing cosmos. The tiger, here, becomes an embodiment of that vision.
The Many Lives of a Tiger
What, then, do these tigers tell us? They are not merely depictions of a creature; they are manifestations of culture itself. Each tiger carries within it a geography, a history, a belief system. Some are drawn with reverence, others with playfulness. Some are protectors, others performers. Some guard temple walls, others roam across painted scrolls.
But across all these forms, a truth emerges—art is not about accuracy; it is about inheritance. The tiger, though ever-changing, remains an enduring force, prowling through India’s artistic memory. And in that, we see the magic of tradition—not as something static, but as something that shifts, transforms, and continues to breathe.
Even in its many variation, the tiger remains unmistakably itself.