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The accomplished tradition of painting at Bundi gave rise to one of the most outstanding Rajasthani Schools of miniature painting, Kota, which excels in the depiction of hunting scenes and reflects an exceptional excitement and obsession for animal chases. Bundi and Kota were parts of the same kingdom till 1625, when Jahangir divided the Bundi empire and awarded one part to Madhu Singh, the younger son of Rao Ratan Singh, for his bravery in defending him against his son Prince Khurram's (Shah Jahan) rebellion in Deccan.

After its separation from Bundi, Kota had its own School, commencing in the reign of Jagat Singh (1658-1683). In the early period, the paintings of Bundi and Kota couldn't be distinguished for several decades as Kota painters borrowed from the Bundi repertoire. Some compositions were taken verbatim from Bundi pictures. However, there is an attitude of non-conformity apparent in figural and architectural exaggerations. With a flair for drawing superseding in the following decades, the Kota style of painting became strikingly individual. By the reign of Ram Singh (1686-1708), artists had passionately enlarged their inventory to a large variety of subjects. Kota artists seem to have been the first to render landscapes as the real subject of compositions. Umed Singh (1770-1819) acceded to the throne at the age of ten years, but his regent arranged for the young king to be amused with hunting and gaming from an early age. Paintings served as flattering records of his exploits and the obsession with the chase, which became a social ritual in which even women of the court participated. Kota artists excelled in rendering animals and combat, and paintings thus reflect a characteristically spontaneous and calligraphic execution.

The accomplished tradition of painting at Bundi gave rise to one of the most outstanding Rajasthani Schools of miniature painting, Kota, which excels in the depiction of hunting scenes and reflects an exceptional excitement and obsession for animal chases. Bundi and Kota were parts of the same kingdom till 1625, when Jahangir divided the Bundi empire and awarded one part to Madhu Singh, the younger son of Rao Ratan Singh, for his bravery in defending him against his son Prince Khurram's (Shah Jahan) rebellion in Deccan.

After its separation from Bundi, Kota had its own School, commencing in the reign of Jagat Singh (1658-1683). In the early period, the paintings of Bundi and Kota couldn't be distinguished for several decades as Kota painters borrowed from the Bundi repertoire. Some compositions were taken verbatim from Bundi pictures. However, there is an attitude of non-conformity apparent in figural and architectural exaggerations. With a flair for drawing superseding in the following decades, the Kota style of painting became strikingly individual. By the reign of Ram Singh (1686-1708), artists had passionately enlarged their inventory to a large variety of subjects. Kota artists seem to have been the first to render landscapes as the real subject of compositions. Umed Singh (1770-1819) acceded to the throne at the age of ten years, but his regent arranged for the young king to be amused with hunting and gaming from an early age. Paintings served as flattering records of his exploits and the obsession with the chase, which became a social ritual in which even women of the court participated. Kota artists excelled in rendering animals and combat, and paintings thus reflect a characteristically spontaneous and calligraphic execution.

The accomplished tradition of painting at Bundi gave rise to one of the most outstanding Rajasthani Schools of miniature painting, Kota, which excels in the depiction of hunting scenes and reflects an exceptional excitement and obsession for animal chases. Bundi and Kota were parts of the same kingdom till 1625, when Jahangir divided the Bundi empire and awarded one part to Madhu Singh, the younger son of Rao Ratan Singh, for his bravery in defending him against his son Prince Khurram's (Shah Jahan) rebellion in Deccan.

After its separation from Bundi, Kota had its own School, commencing in the reign of Jagat Singh (1658-1683). In the early period, the paintings of Bundi and Kota couldn't be distinguished for several decades as Kota painters borrowed from the Bundi repertoire. Some compositions were taken verbatim from Bundi pictures. However, there is an attitude of non-conformity apparent in figural and architectural exaggerations. With a flair for drawing superseding in the following decades, the Kota style of painting became strikingly individual. By the reign of Ram Singh (1686-1708), artists had passionately enlarged their inventory to a large variety of subjects. Kota artists seem to have been the first to render landscapes as the real subject of compositions. Umed Singh (1770-1819) acceded to the throne at the age of ten years, but his regent arranged for the young king to be amused with hunting and gaming from an early age. Paintings served as flattering records of his exploits and the obsession with the chase, which became a social ritual in which even women of the court participated. Kota artists excelled in rendering animals and combat, and paintings thus reflect a characteristically spontaneous and calligraphic execution.

The accomplished tradition of painting at Bundi gave rise to one of the most outstanding Rajasthani Schools of miniature painting, Kota, which excels in the depiction of hunting scenes and reflects an exceptional excitement and obsession for animal chases. Bundi and Kota were parts of the same kingdom till 1625, when Jahangir divided the Bundi empire and awarded one part to Madhu Singh, the younger son of Rao Ratan Singh, for his bravery in defending him against his son Prince Khurram's (Shah Jahan) rebellion in Deccan.

After its separation from Bundi, Kota had its own School, commencing in the reign of Jagat Singh (1658-1683). In the early period, the paintings of Bundi and Kota couldn't be distinguished for several decades as Kota painters borrowed from the Bundi repertoire. Some compositions were taken verbatim from Bundi pictures. However, there is an attitude of non-conformity apparent in figural and architectural exaggerations. With a flair for drawing superseding in the following decades, the Kota style of painting became strikingly individual. By the reign of Ram Singh (1686-1708), artists had passionately enlarged their inventory to a large variety of subjects. Kota artists seem to have been the first to render landscapes as the real subject of compositions. Umed Singh (1770-1819) acceded to the throne at the age of ten years, but his regent arranged for the young king to be amused with hunting and gaming from an early age. Paintings served as flattering records of his exploits and the obsession with the chase, which became a social ritual in which even women of the court participated. Kota artists excelled in rendering animals and combat, and paintings thus reflect a characteristically spontaneous and calligraphic execution.

The accomplished tradition of painting at Bundi gave rise to one of the most outstanding Rajasthani Schools of miniature painting, Kota, which excels in the depiction of hunting scenes and reflects an exceptional excitement and obsession for animal chases. Bundi and Kota were parts of the same kingdom till 1625, when Jahangir divided the Bundi empire and awarded one part to Madhu Singh, the younger son of Rao Ratan Singh, for his bravery in defending him against his son Prince Khurram's (Shah Jahan) rebellion in Deccan.

After its separation from Bundi, Kota had its own School, commencing in the reign of Jagat Singh (1658-1683). In the early period, the paintings of Bundi and Kota couldn't be distinguished for several decades as Kota painters borrowed from the Bundi repertoire. Some compositions were taken verbatim from Bundi pictures. However, there is an attitude of non-conformity apparent in figural and architectural exaggerations. With a flair for drawing superseding in the following decades, the Kota style of painting became strikingly individual. By the reign of Ram Singh (1686-1708), artists had passionately enlarged their inventory to a large variety of subjects. Kota artists seem to have been the first to render landscapes as the real subject of compositions. Umed Singh (1770-1819) acceded to the throne at the age of ten years, but his regent arranged for the young king to be amused with hunting and gaming from an early age. Paintings served as flattering records of his exploits and the obsession with the chase, which became a social ritual in which even women of the court participated. Kota artists excelled in rendering animals and combat, and paintings thus reflect a characteristically spontaneous and calligraphic execution.

If the system hadn't stalled, Antar would never have guessed that the scrap of paper on his screen was the remnant of an ID card. It looked as though it had been rescued from a fire: the plastic laminate was warped and melted along the edge. The lettering was mostly illegible, and the photograph had vanished under a smudge of soot. But a four-inch metal chain had somehow stayed attached to the card: it hung down in a rusty loop from a perforation in the top left-hand corner, like a drooping tail. It was the chain that triggered the system, not the card.

The card turned up in one of those routine inventories that went flashing around the globe with metronome regularity, for no reason that Antar could understand, except that it was what the system did best. Once it got started, it would keep them coming, hour after hour, an endless succession of documents and objects, stopping only when it stumbled on something it couldn't file: the most trivial things usually. Once it was a glass paperweight, of the kind that rain snowflakes if you turn them upside down; another time it was a bottle of correcting fluid, from an irrigation overseer's office just south of the Arab Sea. Both times the machine went into a controlled frenzy, firing off questions, one after another.

Antar had met children who were like that: What? Why? When? Where? How? But the children asked because they were curious. With these AVA/Ile systems it was something else - something he could only think of as a simulated urge for self-improvement. He'd been using Ava for a couple of years now, and he was still awed by her eagerness to become herself. Anything she did not recognise, she'd take apart on screen, producing ever greater refinements of details.

If the system hadn't stalled, Antar would never have guessed that the scrap of paper on his screen was the remnant of an ID card. It looked as though it had been rescued from a fire: the plastic laminate was warped and melted along the edge. The lettering was mostly illegible, and the photograph had vanished under a smudge of soot. But a four-inch metal chain had somehow stayed attached to the card: it hung down in a rusty loop from a perforation in the top left-hand corner, like a drooping tail. It was the chain that triggered the system, not the card.

The card turned up in one of those routine inventories that went flashing around the globe with metronome regularity, for no reason that Antar could understand, except that it was what the system did best. Once it got started, it would keep them coming, hour after hour, an endless succession of documents and objects, stopping only when it stumbled on something it couldn't file: the most trivial things usually. Once it was a glass paperweight, of the kind that rain snowflakes if you turn them upside down; another time it was a bottle of correcting fluid, from an irrigation overseer's office just south of the Arab Sea. Both times the machine went into a controlled frenzy, firing off questions, one after another.

Antar had met children who were like that: What? Why? When? Where? How? But the children asked because they were curious. With these AVA/Ile systems it was something else - something he could only think of as a simulated urge for self-improvement. He'd been using Ava for a couple of years now, and he was still awed by her eagerness to become herself. Anything she did not recognise, she'd take apart on screen, producing ever greater refinements of details.

If the system hadn't stalled, Antar would never have guessed that the scrap of paper on his screen was the remnant of an ID card. It looked as though it had been rescued from a fire: the plastic laminate was warped and melted along the edge. The lettering was mostly illegible, and the photograph had vanished under a smudge of soot. But a four-inch metal chain had somehow stayed attached to the card: it hung down in a rusty loop from a perforation in the top left-hand corner, like a drooping tail. It was the chain that triggered the system, not the card.

The card turned up in one of those routine inventories that went flashing around the globe with metronome regularity, for no reason that Antar could understand, except that it was what the system did best. Once it got started, it would keep them coming, hour after hour, an endless succession of documents and objects, stopping only when it stumbled on something it couldn't file: the most trivial things usually. Once it was a glass paperweight, of the kind that rain snowflakes if you turn them upside down; another time it was a bottle of correcting fluid, from an irrigation overseer's office just south of the Arab Sea. Both times the machine went into a controlled frenzy, firing off questions, one after another.

Antar had met children who were like that: What? Why? When? Where? How? But the children asked because they were curious. With these AVA/Ile systems it was something else - something he could only think of as a simulated urge for self-improvement. He'd been using Ava for a couple of years now, and he was still awed by her eagerness to become herself. Anything she did not recognise, she'd take apart on screen, producing ever greater refinements of details.

If the system hadn't stalled, Antar would never have guessed that the scrap of paper on his screen was the remnant of an ID card. It looked as though it had been rescued from a fire: the plastic laminate was warped and melted along the edge. The lettering was mostly illegible, and the photograph had vanished under a smudge of soot. But a four-inch metal chain had somehow stayed attached to the card: it hung down in a rusty loop from a perforation in the top left-hand corner, like a drooping tail. It was the chain that triggered the system, not the card.

The card turned up in one of those routine inventories that went flashing around the globe with metronome regularity, for no reason that Antar could understand, except that it was what the system did best. Once it got started, it would keep them coming, hour after hour, an endless succession of documents and objects, stopping only when it stumbled on something it couldn't file: the most trivial things usually. Once it was a glass paperweight, of the kind that rain snowflakes if you turn them upside down; another time it was a bottle of correcting fluid, from an irrigation overseer's office just south of the Arab Sea. Both times the machine went into a controlled frenzy, firing off questions, one after another.

Antar had met children who were like that: What? Why? When? Where? How? But the children asked because they were curious. With these AVA/Ile systems it was something else - something he could only think of as a simulated urge for self-improvement. He'd been using Ava for a couple of years now, and he was still awed by her eagerness to become herself. Anything she did not recognise, she'd take apart on screen, producing ever greater refinements of details.

If the system hadn't stalled, Antar would never have guessed that the scrap of paper on his screen was the remnant of an ID card. It looked as though it had been rescued from a fire: the plastic laminate was warped and melted along the edge. The lettering was mostly illegible, and the photograph had vanished under a smudge of soot. But a four-inch metal chain had somehow stayed attached to the card: it hung down in a rusty loop from a perforation in the top left-hand corner, like a drooping tail. It was the chain that triggered the system, not the card.

The card turned up in one of those routine inventories that went flashing around the globe with metronome regularity, for no reason that Antar could understand, except that it was what the system did best. Once it got started, it would keep them coming, hour after hour, an endless succession of documents and objects, stopping only when it stumbled on something it couldn't file: the most trivial things usually. Once it was a glass paperweight, of the kind that rain snowflakes if you turn them upside down; another time it was a bottle of correcting fluid, from an irrigation overseer's office just south of the Arab Sea. Both times the machine went into a controlled frenzy, firing off questions, one after another.

Antar had met children who were like that: What? Why? When? Where? How? But the children asked because they were curious. With these AVA/Ile systems it was something else - something he could only think of as a simulated urge for self-improvement. He'd been using Ava for a couple of years now, and he was still awed by her eagerness to become herself. Anything she did not recognise, she'd take apart on screen, producing ever greater refinements of details.