Artist Tom Vattakuzhy likes to call them story paintings, the illustrations he made to accompany stories and texts in literary magazines. The paintings and the stories enriched each other, even if they could be standalone works of art, he thought. He had not expected that one of these paintings could be taken out of context, away from the story it belonged with, critiqued and removed from the public eye, two times in nine years.
The publication of ‘Supper at a Nunnery’ in Bhashaposhini, a Malayalam literary magazine, sparked a blasphemy row, forcing the magazine to withdraw the issue from circulation. Certain Christian groups had raised intense objections to the artwork's provocative reimagining of a biblical theme. Nine years later, by the end of December 2025, the painting has once again led to protests and subsequent closure of Tom’s exhibition, held as part of the Kochi Biennale. Speaking with TNM, the artist turned melancholic as he reflected on a profound decline in societal empathy and the growing shadow of fear cast over artistic expression.
Tom’s art works had received renewed attention when his painting titled ‘Death of Gandhi’ made it to the cover of the Kerala Budget in 2020. Growing up in a Christian household in the town of Muvattupuzha in Kerala, he had strong religious values imbibed in him from childhood, and let them guide him in his art. “Values dipped in love, care and sympathy,” Tom says.
Tom drew inspiration from The Last Supper – the famed painting by Leonardo da Vinci of Christ and his disciples at a dinner table – when he illustrated for ‘Mridvangiyude Durmruthyu’ a play written by C Gopan for the Bashaposhini. Gopan’s play was based on the story of Mata Hari, a Dutch dancer executed by the French in 1917 under suspicion that she was a German spy.
The Last Supper, in Tom’s imagination, became the perfect template for the story. She was, he interpreted in his research, a wrongly accused person, unjustly blamed by a losing France in war, misunderstood for her love of a German man. The supper in his painting turned into one for Mata Hari, bare chested and surrounded by nuns in various postures.
“I was reflecting on the Christian values I picked up from my mother as a child. She was a strong believer and when I accompanied her to church on Good Friday, I’d have tears that I secretly wiped away. Every time I learn the story of an abused person like Mata Hari, I see Christ in them,” he says, still unable to comprehend the apathy for the artwork that in his mind is born of Christian values.
Following the 2016 outcry, Malayala Manorama withdrew the controversial issue of Bhashaposhini and published a front-page apology. Heartbroken by the reaction, Tom Vattakuzhy shelved his 'story paintings' and stopped doing illustrations. He continued with his independent works, known for their play of light and heartwarming subjects drawn from the world around him. The protests had nevertheless carried on for a month, despite the removal of the magazine and the apology.
“But a group of Christian theologists released a statement later that year. They stated that although at first glance, without knowing the background the painting may look objectionable, you will understand there is no need to object when you study the context and the literature it is based on. They also said that if there is any misunderstanding, it should be resolved through meaningful dialogue. So I did not expect another attack on the art work for a second time now [in 2025],” Tom says.
That is all Tom wanted too, and still does – a dialogue, a conversation with those who disagree, for he understands that an art work can be interpreted in ten different ways by ten different viewers. It is the same sentiment that Algerian French artist Hanan Bennamar expressed when her art works were torn down at a gallery in Kochi where they were exhibited in October 2025. They were pulled down by another artist who was offended by the expletives printed on them. Tom is not familiar with these works but he admits that there seems to be an air of intolerance towards art by those who find it disagreeable.
Back in 2007, the government of Kerala's decision to honour late artist MF Hussain with the Raja Ravi Varma award, was opposed by Hindutva groups, who condemned his paintings of Hindu goddesses. The award was stalled, following a court order secured by Hindutva activist Rahul Easwar.
But since the launch of the Kochi Biennale in 2012, a two-yearly grand art event that was spread across venues in the city and the favoured island of Fort Kochi, artists had been more or less left alone, sparing a few undesirable incidents. “I believe the Biennale organisers are still trying to reopen the exhibition and they have been thoroughly supportive through all this,” Tom says.
It is not anger that emanates from his voice but misery. His painting ‘Death of Gandhi’ was made after weeks of thought and research, from the perspective of someone who would have been standing close to Nathuram Godse, the Hindutva activist who assassinated Gandhi. The work was shared on social media by Rahul Gandhi. “But some people also chose to see it as a celebration of Godse!” says Tom.
“Few seem to appreciate the inner picture, and attach a whole lot of importance to external appearances. I am deeply concerned about the lack of empathy in humans. It makes me afraid to say this, but when I made that painting, I saw Christ in Gandhi. Like the lamenting angels around Christ, Gandhi too was in his death surrounded by wailing figures. But I am in fear, you would not know what can be expressed anymore, what will be construed objectionable,” Tom says.
The only ism he believes in, he adds, is humanism.
