Recently, I visited the bronze gallery at the Government Museum in Chennai. It consists of three floors, and houses of some of India’s most exquisite ancient sculptures. The mezzanine is almost entirely devoted to bronzes of Nataraja, the dancing form of Lord Shiva. Sometimes referred to as ‘the thief who stole my heart’, on my visit it was not Nataraja who caught my attention but Apasmara, the figure upon whom the Lord stands. It is he who stole my heart.
Depicted across the centuries in a variety of ‘trampled poses’, sculptors have almost always had him point at the viewer — his direct gaze seeming to say something. This pitiable figure led me down a rabbit hole of reading, to explore his symbolic role in the grand iconography of the lord of dance.
The Tiruvalangadu Bronze, a masterpiece of the Cholas
| Photo Credit:
R. Ravindran
Understanding Apasmara
Apasmara is the name given to the figure in iconographic texts. It combines the words smara, meaning memory, and apa, the negation of it — together meaning forgetfulness. Forgetting is a common human lapse, so why was it depicted as something trampled underfoot? The metaphor’s gravity intensified when I learned that in Tamil, Apasmara is called Muyalagan, which translates to epilepsy.
In Ayurveda, I discover, the word is described as “a psychosomatic disorder involving memory, intellect and mind, and present with cardinal features such as transient loss of memory, abnormal movements of body and blackouts”.Ayurvedic texts list it among the eight mahagadas or most dreadful diseases. This deepened my confusion. Did a neuropsychiatric imbalance truly deserve such harsh treatment?
Apasmara is also said to represent ignorance, arrogance, abnormal movement, spiritual inertia, delusion, attachment to the material world, and ego. These symbolic meanings invited deeper reflection, especially on how the law treated mental imbalance.
A Nataraja idol at the Government Museum
| Photo Credit:
R. Shivaji Rao
What the law says
The legal framework governing mental health in India is currently defined by The Mental Healthcare Act, 2017, which replaced the Mental Health Act of 1987. The addition of “care” in the title signals a shift towards supporting individuals needing mental health support. This change was influenced by India’s ratification of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities and its Optional Protocol in 2007, which came into force on May 3, 2008.
Section 2(1)(s) of the 2017 Act defines mental illness as “a substantial disorder of thinking, mood, perception, orientation or memory that grossly impairs judgment, behaviour, capacity to recognise reality or ability to meet the ordinary demands of life, mental conditions associated with the abuse of alcohol and drugs”. It excludes mental retardation, described as “a condition of arrested or incomplete development of mind of a person, specially characterised by subnormality of intelligence”.
Given the complexity of human behaviour, how does one apply this broad definition? Section 3 states “nationally or internationally accepted medical standards (including the latest edition of the International Classification of Disease of the World Health Organisation) as may be notified by the Central Government” to be the determinant factors of mental illness.
The Act clarifies that a person’s background, or non-conformity with prevailing social, moral, cultural, work-related, political, or religious norms cannot qualify as grounds for diagnosis.
Natarajar idol at the Bronze Gallery
| Photo Credit:
R. Shivaji Rao
Unclear standards
More than eight years after the Act’s passage, the Central Government is yet to notify specific criteria for determining mental illness. When questioned in the Rajya Sabha, the government cited health as a state subject, sidestepping its obligation under Section 3 to refer to internationally accepted medical standards, specifically those set by the World Health Organization (WHO), for defining and diagnosing mental illness.
The WHO’s Comprehensive Mental Health Action Plan 2013-2030 defines mental disorders broadly: depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, anxiety, dementia, substance use disorders, intellectual disabilities, and developmental or behavioural disorders like autism and epilepsy.
It highlights the concept of vulnerable groups — individuals or groups made vulnerable by their social, economic, or environmental circumstances. These include households living in poverty, people with chronic illnesses, maltreated children, adolescents exposed to substance use, minority and indigenous populations, the elderly, those facing discrimination or human rights abuses, LGBTQIA+ persons, prisoners, and individuals affected by conflict, natural disasters, or other humanitarian emergencies.
A Chola bronze
| Photo Credit:
D. Krishnan
This expansive definition is worrying as the 2017 Act provides no definite criteria of determining who may avail of the legislation’s benefits, leaving the decision to psychiatrists or nominated representatives.
The strengths and gaps
The 2017 Act empowers those with mental illness, allowing advance directives on care and treatment preferences and easing access to medical establishments. However, these directives don’t extend to matters concerning property.
When it comes to legal rights over actions and property, “person of unsound mind” remains a key term. While Indian law has long provided safeguards for such individuals, courts hold that not all mental illnesses qualify; ‘legal insanity’refers to a condition when “the cognitive faculty must be so destroyed as to render one incapable of knowing the nature of his act or that what he is doing is wrong or contrary to law.” The ambiguity is concerning because some provisions could restrict fundamental liberties, such as forced admission to mental health facilities, or may be misused to evade responsibility.
I sought to understand how law and the Lord view mental instability. The 2017 Act discourages segregation, promoting integration into mainstream society. Yet the Nataraja iconography draws a stark contrast between the poised deity and the unstable Muyalagan. This separation is literal — Muyalagan is crushed underfoot. But if the intent is control over instability, wouldn’t the Lord have held Apasmara gently in his hand? Control is distinct from conquest.
If Apasmara stands for arrogance, isn’t arrogance often a prelude to justice? If he represents ignorance, does not ignorance precede wisdom? If he signifies inertia, is movement not born from stillness? And if he embodies ego, isn’t it needed to appreciate humility? If Apasmara is not a demon to be destroyed but a metaphor for a mental state, then does the iconography of Nataraja risk making him the much-maligned Muyalagan?
The Bengaluru-based writer is an author and curator, and a lawyer by profession.
Published – June 19, 2025 03:40 pm IST
