Indian Summer

A daintily bejeweled woman leans against a rose silk bolster on a carpeted terrace and strokes a patient rabbit. A thick grove of trees seals off the space behind her. The sky is milky white.

If ever an image evoked the endless vacuum of waiting for a long-absent loved one, it is this 18th century watercolor by an anonymous artist in the Punjab Hills of northwest India.

And no wonder. The painting represents a theme from Indian classical music: a woman killing time while her princely husband is out of town--fighting, hunting or visiting the royal court.

Imagine gallery after gallery hung with such mysterious and lovely paintings and you have “Realms of Heroism: Indian Paintings From the Brooklyn Museum” at the Bowers Museum in Santa Ana. With its substantial historical and cultural information and attractive installation, “Realms” is surely one of the Bowers’ best and most captivating traveling exhibitions.

Most of the exquisitely detailed works were painted by court artists during the Mogul empire (1526-1857), when northern India and present-day Pakistan were ruled by Muslim princes from Central Asia.

Other paintings on view reflect individual beliefs and styles of kingdoms such as the Punjab Hills and Rajasthan, which were outside the immediate sphere of Mogul influence. Others incorporate elements of the Hindu and Jain religious traditions of the pre-Mogul era.

Much of the charm of these images derives from their combination of lush color, tiny detail, fanciful spatial qualities and subtle variations on well-worn themes.

Portrait painters might generalize princely bodies, but they took pains to individualize facial features--while gently nudging them toward the qualities (long nose, broad forehead) believed to indicate noble blood.

A Mogul School portrait of a prince, from the late 17th century, shows a sweet-faced young man in a flower-sprigged jama (long tunic) who stands in an atmospheric green field and holds a small blossom. Even much older and more powerful royals are painted in a similarly delicate fashion, sometimes with a trusty horse or a retinue of attendants.

The most puzzling thing about the show is its title, which sounds invented by the public relations department. How, you may wonder, is the painting described above an example of heroism?

That question is never answered. Yet the Mogul concept of heroism apparently went far beyond bravery in battle to encompass community and family leadership, religious devotion and patronage of the arts.

The Moguls even had a notion of romantic heroism, a willingness to risk dishonor in the pursuit of passion.

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Still, just about the only romantic fool who seems to be risking anything in these paintings is Sohni, a village girl shown in a provincial 18th century Mogul painting as she swims across a river, perched on an earthenware pot, to meet her forbidden lover, Mahinwal. He waits on the opposite bank while she is about to drown, thanks to the machinations of her sneaky sister-in-law. (The label gives the full story.)

Characters from the Hindu pantheon also were involved in romantic doings. An artist from the Punjab Hills painted a night scene in which the Milky Way (a streak of white paint) illuminates minuscule flowers in a forest--and the god Krishna, spying on his love, Radha, as his female messenger tries to talk some sense into her.

Cutaway views of the elaborately ornamental palaces in the brightly colored paintings from Rajasthan, just south of the Punjab Hills, reveal some of the most fascinating byplay between lovers.

In a 1640 painting of “Lalita Ragini”--described as “the prince’s departure at dawn from the chamber of his beloved”--a languorous princess turns her head away one morning as her lover takes his leave, under the brilliant orange glow of the rising sun. The lotus blossom he holds in his hand bends toward the princess, as if sympathetically echoing his parting glance.

A Rajasthani painting from about 1690 of the “Dipaka Raga” scene is a particularly tender moment of affection, with a woman crouching under the caressing arm of her mustached lover. Stars twinkle in the night sky above the ornamental pavilion where they hold their tryst.

And then there’s the nude seduction (“Love Scene,” 1660-80) that reminds viewers they’re basking in the land of the Kamasutra.

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For all the amorous activity, however, there are plenty of scenes of lonely gals passing the time with dreamy activities.

“Intoxicated Woman at a Window,” a stunning 18th century Rajasthani painting, shows one such woman holding a tiny wine glass to her lips with dyed-red fingertips (henna-based mehndi decorations were popular back then too) as she leans on a bolster.

Her half-lowered, reddened eyelids and the shawl that reveals one breast betray her sodden state. The unknown artist sets up beguiling rhythms of curving forms and picks out every gold ball on her granulated bracelets.

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The final batch of paintings in the show leads into a scrumptious array of Indian jewelry, mostly from the 19th and 20th centuries.

The sun god inspired a spectacular necklace from Kerala, in southern India, made of tubular cones that recall a 1950s American design motif. A Mogul-style bangle encircled by diamonds in a clever setting puts tennis bracelets to shame. And who wouldn’t fancy a south Indian gold hair pendant in the shape of a coiled serpent, gleaming with rubies, emeralds and white sapphires?

Even the most dedicated museum-goer trudging from case to case may grow wistful to read about how the paintings were originally viewed by their wealthy, leisured owners, who kept them in books to be perused in private--while reclining, no doubt, on plump pillows like the ones in these enchanting paintings.

* “Realms of Heroism: Indian Paintings From the Brooklyn Museum” continues through Aug. 2 at the Bowers Museum of Cultural Art, 2002 N. Main St., Santa Ana. Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays-Sundays, 10 a.m.-4 p.m.; Thursdays, 10 a.m.-9 p.m. $6; $4 seniors and students; $2 children 5-12; younger than 5, free. (714) 567-3600.