"Mee Raqsam" (Persian for 'I dance') is a delightful little production--95 minutes, short for a Hindi feature film--even though it handles a sensitive subject of freeing art from religion, gender, class, and other interferences. The art form it chooses to focus on happens to be Bharatanatyam and the setting happens to be Mijwan, a tiny hamlet in Uttar Pradesh's Azamgarh district. Presented by Shabana Azmi, and directed by her cinematographer brother Baba Azmi, the film is a tribute to their father, noted poet and lyricist Kaifi Azmi, who was born in Mijwan 101 years ago.
The story showcases the tender relationship between a modest tailor Salim, and his 15-year-old daughter Maryam who dreams of pursuing Bharatanatyam. The father goes out of his way to fulfil his daughter's dream, sensing that this was one of the ways for the young woman to cope with the loss of her mother. Hadn't the mother and daughter shared some beautiful moments dancing together on the rooftop of their humble home?
The duo has to fight their own family first and then others, when the girl starts attending a Bharatanatyam school. Why? Because a Muslim girl taking lessons in a classical dance form that is steeped in devotion to Hindu deities is unthinkable, and simply not done.
Maryam's affinity to dance spells trouble for her father, but his support for her is total and unflinching, even at the cost of facing criticism from family, being ostracized from the community, and losing his customers. Salim's predicament pains Maryam. But what keep the film upbeat are the positive vibes between the two, their bond shining through all the ensuing ups and downs.
Shot on location in Mijwan, the film is paced gently. Danish Husain as Salim and Aditi Subedi as Maryam deliver sparkling performances. What makes Aditi's feat remarkable is that she was brought up in Mijwan and did not know any Bharatanatyam before being a part of this film. Her effort is whole-hearted and sincere. Naseeruddin Shah as the influential community elder is superb as usual, delivering menacing lines with a calculated coolness. Maryam's aunt, grandmother (wonderful Farrukh Jafar in a smallish role), dance teacher, the patron of her dance school, village elders and youngsters all fit the bill nicely.
All in all, the film is a lovely package, with emotion, drama, music and dance thrown in. Heartening to see such stories that entertain, and deliver a good message too!
Find more about the making of this film here, where Chennai-based journalist Akhila Krishnamurthy is in conversation with Shabana Azmi, Aditi Subedi and Deepali Salil who trained Aditi in Bharatanatyam.
The beats of the maddalam and the chenda can be heard from a distance. They mean that a Kathakali performance is about to begin. The drummers(not seen in the accompanying picture) are standing in the portico of the beautiful Rukmini Arangam at the Kalakshetra in Chennai.
Photo by Lata
Now, watching Kathakali is a multi-layered experience. You have to decide whether to be completely taken in by the elaborate make up and colourful costumes of the actors, or to listen to the wonderful verses in Manipravalam (a mix of Malayalam and Sanskrit), or be mesmerised by the energetic accompanying music, or to pay attention to the exquisite hand gestures, or to follow the movement of eyes and facial muscles of the artiste, or to absorb and appreciate the spectacle in its entirety. For people used to watching other dance forms, it may take a while to appreciate Kathakali. But once you get past the initial awe, and overcome the unfamiliarity; Kathakali opens up to you and embraces you in its majestic grandeur and subtle nuances. And when you realise how rigorous and demanding the training that the artistes undergo is, you simply bow to them with reverence. Kathakali (literally meaning story play) is drama, dance, storytelling, folk art, and mime all rolled into one. Ideally the training should start when one is in early teens. There are excellent residential schools in Kerala imparting lessons. In fact the initial training to get one's body adapted to this dance form is very similar to what students of kalaripayattu (traditional martial art from Kerala) go through. The aspirants work hard for years to get complete control over their bodies including eyes and facial muscles. And then they have to learn to be comfortable in the make up, costume and jewellery all of which weighs several kilos if put together.
I watched some videos to get an idea about the process of wearing make up, costumes and jewellery for Kathakali. And the two words that came to my mind on watching those were: patience and surrender. An actor must have these qualities in abundance to be a good practitioner of this art. It takes between three and five hours to get ready, with the actor lying down flat on the floor to get his or her face painted by an expert. There is a prescribed colour code, and colours are used according to the character being played. All the ingredients are natural and the coloured pastes are prepared freshly before the performance. Then putting the costume and jewellery on oneself is again an arduous task. The striking face paints, the bold headgear, the exaggerated eye make up, the curved extensions stuck from the chin to either side on the jawbones, the shiny discs that hide the ears, the ornaments around the neck and on the arms, the umbrella-shaped skirt held aloft by layers of pleated strips of cloth tied around the waist with a rope, the metallic nail extensions making fingers of the left hand look longer, waist-length hair extensions, the pleated pieces of cloth worn around the neck with their knotted ends dangling in front, and the red eyes make for a larger-than-life image of a character. I found that actors insert a part of a particular flower in their eyes to make them red. The reason? Else the eyes would look pale compared to other bright colours on the face. Now the artiste is all set and ready for the act. Almost all the Kathakali stories are derived from mythological texts, so the plays are often long and go on for several hours. The stage is mostly bare other than the mandatory kalavilakku (oil lamp) placed in the front. The major characters usually enter the stage from behind a curtain held by two men. They pay their respects to the drums, drummers and singers before starting their performance. And then the story unfolds to the tune of the songs, the clang of the cymbals, the beat of the drums and the precise gestures and movements of the player. The dedication and devotion of all the performers is amazing. The actors bear the weight of their costume and accessories, while the drummers bear the weight of their drums, for hours and in a standing position. They bring alive a delicate romantic scene and a ferocious war scene with equal ease, the drumbeats reaching a deafening level during depictions of combat. Kathakali was an all-male domain until some time ago. Female characters were also enacted by men. Now with women entering the world of Kathakali, the scene is slowly changing.
Photo by Lata
It is always a pleasure to watch a Kathakali performance at Kalakshetra. Kathakali is traditionally performed in the open air, so the open and informal theatre suits it completely. The totally natural ambience, the lovely students in traditional sarees and veshtis, the fragrance of sambrani, the kolams, the floral decorations, the oil lamps, the picture of Rukmini Devi Arundale standing gracefully, and the image of Nataraja all add up to make the experience magical and memorable. The five-day Kathakali festival which concluded last week was a perfect way to inaugurate the recently renovated performance space--Rukmini Arangam. Thank you Kalakshetra and Guru Sadanam Balakrishnan for putting together this fabulous treat!
The music season is on in Chennai. Corresponding with the Tamil month of Margazhi, this is the time of the year when the city celebrates its love for music and dance with hundreds of recitals in dozens of sabhas in the months of December-January. The weather in " hot-hotter-hottest" Chennai is at its best. Flocks of NRIs return home for a tryst with Carnatic music and Bharatanatyam, for a taste of mouthwatering goodies in the sabha canteens, and for a reunion with family and friends.
When it comes to Carnatic music and Bharatanatyam, I am a novice. So don't expect technical inputs on these classical art forms from me! However, I do enjoy going to concerts and soaking in the lovely atmosphere there. It is as if the whole city is enjoying a festival. Maamis in their best silk sarees -- diamonds sparkling in their nose and ears--, NRIs showing their city and its culture to their foreign-born kids, visitors and tourists from other parts of India as well as other countries, connoisseurs from the city who are adept at the art of sabha-hopping honed from years of experience; and students, practitioners and teachers of music and dance are all there relishing this annual extravaganza. I caught up a bit with the cultural scene during last few days. Chennai as a city rises early. The concerts start from as early as eight in the morning. Usually the morning and afternoon sessions are free for all, while the late afternoon and evening slots require a ticket. I chose a post-lunch Nadaswaram recital by Kollangode R. Subramani and Parali E. Gowtham at the well-known Narada Gana Sabha. The Nadaswaram and Thavil combo presented a high-energy, high decibel performance. I wonder why the musicians were not acknowledging each other through gestures, words of appreciation or smiles. These would have added a lot to their performance.
I tried buying a ticket to the violin recital by Akkarai sisters at the same venue later in the day, but alas, it was sold out. I quickly glanced through my copy of the newspaper to explore other possibilities in the neighbourhood. Decided to try a vocal recital by N. R. Prashanth. It was conveniently scheduled in the auditorium of PS School on RK Mutt Road in Mylapore. The Kapaleeswarar Temple almost next door was going to be my next stop later in the evening so the location suited me fine. I enjoyed the concert a lot. The rapport between the singer, the violinist and the mridangam player was great and that made the recital delightful.The thin attendance in the auditorium was a bit of a dampener for me, but gladly not for the artists. Later at the temple, it was a vocal recital by an all-women ensemble. Led by the graceful Saashwathi Prabhu, the women sang several devotional compositions. The imposing gopuram of the ancient temple provided a fitting backdrop to the proceedings. It was nice to see Aswini Srinivasan on the mridangam. She handled the instrument with poise and aplomb, earning a place for herself in the male-dominated bastion of the drum.
Another day, another performance. It is Bharatanatyam by Medha Hari. Her slender frame occupied the stage with amazing energy and grace. Considering that it was an early afternoon session, the auditorium was reasonably full with rasikas (connoisseurs) appreciating her nimble steps and movements. After this very enjoyable recital I stepped into another concert that was already in progress in another hall at the same venue. A vocal recital by Archana and Aarathi. It is common for sisters or brothers to perform as a team. I liked what I heard, but not what I saw.The lighting on the stage was so insufficient that the musicians looked dull. On the other hand, the whole auditorium was lit very brightly. It seems it is normal for the lights to be on in the auditorium during a Carnatic music concert. Later, when I saw the sisters at the canteen in natural light, they looked bright and lovely. I decided to follow the pattern of the previous day and went to the PS School in Mylapore for a vocal recital by Snigdha Venkataramani. It turned out to be a well-attended concert, and very nice too. What I liked about the recitals was that almost all of them began on time and ended at their stipulated time. There were no felicitations, introductions or speeches. Just artists directly face to face with the discerning audiences!
Photos by Lata
I ended the day with a Kathak presentation by dancer couple Hari and Chethana with their group in the Kapaleeswarar Temple. It was full of rhythm, colour and awesome footwork by the dancers. The flowing costumes of the performers looked magical during the numerous swirls. They even managed a change of costumes between performances making their act a visual delight. Their performance was enhanced by the ambience of the temple, so suited to the dance form. Sitting in the audience and watching them dance, I couldn't help thinking how appropriate the flowing garments are for the whirls in Kathak, while the tight costumes with a pleated fan in the lower garment that opens out beautifully when dancers strike the half-sitting (arai mandi) or full-sitting (muzhu mandi) pose are just right for Bharatanatyam. Happy with my outings, when I looked up the performers later, I was even more impressed to learn that many of them have parallel careers in diverse fields. N R Prashanth is an engineering graduate in Instrumentation Technology from Mysore University. Medha Hari is a Chartered Accountant. Snigdha Venkataramani is not only a Carnatic vocalist, but also a Bharatanatyam dancer. In addition to this she has majored in Zoology and completed her Masters in Anthropology from Delhi University. All this is very inspiring indeed!
"Art is life. It is character. People think of art as if it were something far away from themselves. You may think of me as a dancer, an artist, but are you not going to be artist also? Have you not some art in you? My idea is that everyone is an artist, for everyone responds to beauty."
Rukmini Devi Arundale
Rukmini Devi is survived by Kalakshetra, the magnificent academy she founded in 1936 for the preservation of traditional values in Indian arts and crafts, especially in the field of Bharatanatyam. It is a premier institute today, imparting training in classical dance and music to scores of students who go on to become dedicated teachers, researchers and performers of their art, taking it with them all over the world. Spread over a serene campus in Chennai, the institute reflects its founder's views on art and beauty in everything it does. The performance spaces, the classrooms, the lovely kolams, the colourful practice attire of the students, and the overall ambience oozes tradition and beauty.
I have had the pleasure of watching several dance dramas originally choreographed by Rukmimi Devi, and later revived by her illustrious students who are renowned dance gurus now. In all of them, not only the dance steps, but other things like the music and the costumes of the dancers are also presented according to her specifications.
The dance dramas are exquisite, but the focus of this post is on costumes and sarees. Rukmini Devi's aesthetic sense is evident in the beautifully colour co-ordinated costumes, with striking contrasts and unusual combinations. They are always very pleasant, and nothing is ever over-the-top.
Rukmini Devi maintained the same sense in her own sarees. She directed weavers to make elegant sarees for herself, and dance attires for her students. Slowly, a Kalakshetra saree came to be known as a precious possession amongst admirers.
Keeping in mind that textiles were an essential part of her dance
dramas, Rukmini Devi had set up a weaving centre in a thatched hut in
the premises just a year after Kalakshetra came into being. This not
only gave means of livelihood to weavers, it also helped to keep the traditional craft alive at a time when markets were flooded with foreign-made clothes. That small hut has grown into a larger production
unit called the Craft Education and Research Centre (CERC) over time.
Recently the CERC has revived some of Rukmini Devi's sarees. They are on view at an exhibition at the CERC until March 25. The original sarees are more than 50 years old. They are also part of the exhibition, neatly spread over white sheets on long tables. Also on view are the recreated sarees. There are 15 looms where inspired by the vision of Rukmini Devi, trained weavers are busy creating masterpieces in pure silk . Those who would like to own a piece of this beautiful heritage, can do so by placing an order for any of the sarees at the exhibition.
Photos by Lata
I am at the exhibition on a bright afternoon. The new sarees, neatly clipped to stands, are fluttering gently under the rotating ceiling fans. An artisan is bent over a parrot woven in one of the old sarees. Armed with a magnifying glass, he is busy transferring the pattern on a sheet of graph paper with dots and crosses. A little distance away, a stunning saree in yellow/orange and magenta is proudly displaying the same motif on its pallu. Besides four parrots, the pallu has two rows of shapely deer. The symmetry, proportions and colour scheme all complementing one another to make an outstanding work of art.
The CERC team is putting in a lot of hard work in creating these sarees. Everything from the yarn, to the zari, the motif, and the colour has to be just right. One feels a sense of loss looking at the original sarees, some in reasonable condition, some tattered. But at the same time, the newly woven creations swaying gently alongside reassure you about the preservation and continuation of this legacy.
Music and dance go hand in hand with temple rituals in South India.
Temples were places where these arts thrived and flourished. Many of
these arts have been carried forward by generations of practitioners.
With changing times, they have moved from temples to performance spaces.
Some of them are very much alive and are a part and parcel of cultural
scenario across the country and abroad amongst art lovers. Others lagged
behind because of their complexity, not having sufficient exposure and
reach, the absence of enough performers or other reasons. But thanks to
learners, researchers and performers, many of them are not only being
revived but are also being practised and showcased in front of audiences
across the world.
I witnessed one such gem recently. Called Simhanandini, it is a
ritualistic temple dance belonging to the Kuchipudi style. This ritual
calls for the dancer to draw an image of a lion using her feet. This is a
part of worshipping the divine Goddess, the majestic lion being her
vehicle. In olden times, devotees used to accomplish this feat in front
of the temple chariot during Vijayadashami celebrations.
In the version that I saw, the dancer made deft use of her feet to draw
the image in a large rectangle that had been filled with rangoli powder.
Another way to do this is for the dancer to draw on a canvas after
smearing her feet with coloured powder. The canvas can then be mounted
on a frame for people to see her work.
In
the short break after the performance, people rushed to see the drawing
from close quarters and take pictures. I managed to take just this one
picture. It is not satisfactory, but just enough to get an idea of what all this is about.
There
are two more variations of this art form. Called Mayura Kautvam and
Mahalakshmi Udbhavam, they involve drawing a peacock and a lotus with
one's feet. I am full of appreciation for the people who are working
towards preserving these art forms and wish them well in their
endeavour.
I watched this performance at the Kalakshetra in Chennai. The dancer was noted Bharathanatyam and Kuchipudi exponent, Uma Murali.
"Music, theatre and the arts are meant to be bridges to connect across cultures, civilisations and other artificial boundaries that divide people. But, often they fall prey to the same divisions created by man. As arts get more and more esoteric -- with artists and the audience seeking comfort in homogeneity of class, caste, race or creed -- even it begins losing its ability to communicate and build bridges across the vast and wondrous diversity of people and places. The art and the artists stop growing."
Says noted Carnatic vocalist T. M. Krishna in a note on the thought behind putting together the Urur Olcott Kuppam Margazhi Vizha, a unique festival of dance and music by the beach that took place on January 15 and 16 in a fishing village in Chennai. By taking classical music and dance out of the closed environs of elite auditoriums and bringing it right in the middle of a fishing village, he and his team have taken the first step towards "celebrating oneness" as the tag line in the banner says.
The idea sounds so attractive and inviting that we decide to go. As we turn in a narrow lane just off the road parallel to the happening Elliot's Beach, it feels as if we are transported to a different world. Local women selling flowers guide us to the "kutcheri" that their village is hosting. I am told some social organisations have pitched in to do the cleaning up and to raise funds privately for this fest. What used be a dumping yard for old cars has been transformed into a lovely performance space, with the Bay of Bengal providing a beautiful backdrop. A Matador and a Qualis have been left behind while the rest of the area has been cleared of all the old cars. Spray-painted and decorated with strings of light bulbs, these vehicles add an authentic local touch to the venue. Later, many kids get onto the top of the Matador to enjoy a better view of the performances. A couple of walls in the area have been painted in festival-related graffiti. The kuppam (fishing village) is now ready for the festival.
People come full of curiosity and anticipation for this novel event, many preferring to sit down in the sand while several take chairs thoughtfully provided by the organizers. The programme is compered confidently by two girls from the kuppam. Local youth perform an energetic paraiaattam with drums, and a group of girls engages the audience with their wit and charm in villupaattu (musical story-telling performed using bow as the primary musical instrument). It is a pity that I cannot enjoy the story-telling because of my inadequacy in Tamil, but judging from the reaction of others, they are having a great time.
The first classical offering of the day is an instrumental ensemble featuring young and talented musicians on flute, violin, chitra vina, kanjira, mrudangam and morsing, followed by a Bharatanatyam recital by Anita Guha's troupe. The second day opens with the customary paraiaattam and villupaattu. Later, popular playback singer and Carnatic vocalist P. Unnikrishnan takes the stage and regales the audience with well-known compositions amid requests for film songs from the kuppam kids. He obliges in the end crooning a few lines from the super-hit ennavale adi ennavale. The festival draws to an end with "Krishnan Tudhu" by Kattaikuttu Sangam.
All through the festival, the energy and enthusiasm of not only the performers but also that of the organizers and volunteers is overwhelming and infectious. The kuppam residents have been co-operative and supportive of the event. What has this whole exercise achieved? Well, it is too early to say. Certainly a new initiative has been taken. Congratulations to T. M. Krishna for conceptualising this fest and actually making it happen. One of the "Aha" moments for me is when he decides to introduce all the musical instruments in the ensemble to the local kids, pointing at each instrument and saying its name loudly. Getting the kuppam girls to compere the proceedings is a great way to include them too. Most of the villagers have not had any exposure to any classical music, musicians or instruments before this. This effort has brought them slightly closer to all those. Hope more such efforts will follow. T. M. Krishna sums it up nicely when he says, "Let them listen to it all, and even if one of them likes it and wants to learn, my purpose is served."
Here are some more images from the festival that will help to get a feel of the wonderful ambiance.
If December-January is the music season in Chennai, it is also the
tourist season. Indian as well as foreign tourists descend on the Tamil
Nadu capital during these months to enjoy the moderate weather and visit
places of their interest. Mahabalipuram (better known as Mamallapuram
locally), is a must on the itinerary of any tourist visiting Chennai.
Situated at a distance of only 55 kilometres, it is a quiet, small town
by the sea with ruins of ancient stone temples scattered around a small
area. Believed to have been built between the 7th and the 9th century,
these temples with their exquisite carvings attract a lot of visitors.
Those visiting between December 27, 2011 and January 26, 2012 have an
additional treat in store for them at the beautiful Shore Temple. A
classical dance performance followed by a folk presentation everyday at an
open-air venue by the temple, which as the name suggests, is located by
the seaside.
It is a government initiative, organised jointly by the department of
tourism in the state government and the ministry of tourism in the
central government. And the best part is that it is open for everybody,
there are no tickets or passes.
A large stage and neat rows of plastic chairs greet you on your way to
the Shore Temple. These arrangements are made on an open patch of land
covered with lush green lawn. A little before people start taking their
seats, powerful jets of smoke (maybe with some insect repellant) from a thick
hose make sure that the insects will be away, at least for some time. All these empty chairs are taken when the performance begins. Those who do not get a chair, make themselves comfortable on the lawn.
The audience is a mixed lot, with foreign tourists in the majority. They
are an excited, enthusiastic and curious lot. Many of them are sporting
Indian outfits. They are eager to capture everything on their cameras
so that they can carry the sights and sounds of India back home with
them.
Just before the performance, I spot a group of young women in bright,
identical Bharatanatyam costumes behind the stage. They look very
pretty decked up in the traditional finery. I make my way to them and
request them to pose for me. They oblige happily. They are all students
of an accomplished dancer, Saranya Sai Prasanth.
The performance starts exactly at six. The young women strike beautiful
poses in groups as well as individually, making the cameras go
click-click in the audience. They are accompanied by a group of able
musicians and singers, and together they make a package that captivates
everybody present there. The bright, almost full moon and the cool
evening breeze add to the pleasure. The ambience is simply lovely.
This is to be followed by a folk performance, but I have to give it a
miss because of time constraints. It is a month-long schedule and
different styles of classical and folk dance are on offer. I appreciate
the fact that the performance began and ended at the time announced.
There were no boring speeches or other formalities. Just a neat little
glimpse into the vast cultural heritage of India for the tourists. A
very welcome endeavour towards promoting tourism by showcasing our
classical and folk dances. I hope this dance festival continues and
grows in the years to come.
The festival is halfway through and there are still more than two weeks to go. If you happen to be in this part of the world during the next few days, this document might come in handy.
The last three days were so full at the Svanubhava in Chennai that
I feel very empty today. The lovely Svanubhava theme music is echoing in my
mind throughout the day. They describe themselves as a cultural movement
by students of the performing arts. It is amazing what a bunch of
dedicated and enthusiastic people can put together. The Rukmini Arangam
at Kalakshetra was buzzing with activity, what with hordes of school
children and dance/music loving elders descending on it at nine in the
morning every day. The day was chock-a block with performances and
question-answer sessions back to back, but for a short lunch break and
even shorter tea break.
Most of the artistes who performed are stalwarts in their fields and
it was heartening to see how humble they are. When curious kids asked
them about the feats they can so effortlessly perform in their chosen
art form, they simply attributed them to the blessings of their Guru or
God, not mentioning their own hard work and years of practice behind it.
There was a fairly varied spread for all to enjoy. Vocal and
instrumental music in Hindustani and Carnatic style, qawwalis, baul
sangeet, thevarams (Shaivaite hymns), a Bharatanatyam
lecture-demonstration, yakshagana, villu pattu (folk story-telling), and
a discussion on 'Does Indian cinema reflect the reality of Indian
women?'. Some of these performing arts were of special interest to me as
I was watching them for the first time. My appreciation for villu pattu
and yakshagana would have been several times greater if I had a good
knowledge of Tamil and Kannada respectively. But even without that they
were a pleasure to watch because of the involvement and passion of the
performers.
The ambience contributed a lot to the enjoyment. The
open auditorium at the Kalakshetra and the informal seating arrangement
made one feel as if it was a mehfil in a friend's house that one
was invited to. Everybody sat together, everybody ate the same food
together and everybody had a good time together watching whatever was
going on on the stage. Almost all the volunteers in their twenties or
early thirties were wearing traditional attire...veshtis and tops for
men and cotton sarees for women. That presented a pretty picture too. A
bunch of foreign students were no exception.
All these art forms have been existing for a long time, but when you
experience so many of them in a short span of time, it makes you proud
of your heritage as an Indian. The young men and women who belong to the
Svanubhava team deserve a big applause for their efforts in bringing
together such gems from various parts of our country, organising a
celebration of their talent, and sharing it with dance and music lovers
across the world. Webcasts of all the events have been made available on
their blog for those interested.
The organising team headed by T M Krishna, an accomplished vocalist
in the Carnatic style, has put in a lot of work and it shows. Fresh
sheets about the day's programme were handed out everyday, giving brief
but well-researched introductions about the artistes for the day and
their accompanists, complete with lively illustrations. Students from
several schools were not only invited to attend the event, but were
encouraged to ask questions to the performing artistes. For many of
them, this must have been their first exposure to the cultural scene in
their city and country.
I sincerely hope that this movement continues and gets bigger every
year. This year, after the Chennai leg, it has gone to Delhi, where it
will be on until the 15th of this month. It will be nice to see more
representation in terms of performances from states in the North, East
and Central India in the future editions of Svanubhava. And inviting
some younger artistes will be a good idea too. But for now, heartfelt
thanks to the whole team for letting me share this wonderful experience,
which has been very enriching and which I will cherish for a long time
to come.
Dusk is descending on the Kalakshetra in Chennai. Beautiful kolams
(traditional patterns drawn on the floor) lead one to the venue where
the stage is set for a dance-drama performance. Fragrance of sambrani
wafts in the area as coils of white smoke emanate from various places,
dense at the bottom and disintegrating in the air as they rise up.
Bunches of fresh neem leaves are being used to keep the insects
away. An attractive arrangement of flowers floating in a large clay bowl
welcomes everyone at the entrance. It is a lovely semi-open theatre set
amidst lush green tress.
I am here to watch 'Uttara Swayamvaram', a Kathakali performance, my first ever. The painted
face of a Kathakali performer is very familiar as it is one of the most
common icons of Kerala. One often notices it in advertisements,
calendars and on the covers of magazines. But I have never seen a
Kathakali dancer in flesh and blood. So I am all eyes and ears, waiting
for the curtains to part. The huge kalivilakku (lamp) placed on
the front part of the stage is lit. It is a signal that the recital is
about to begin. As the curtains slide open, four formidable middle-aged
gentlemen appear on the stage. They are dressed in off-white mundus
with the mandatory gold border. They are all bare-chested. Two of them
take their place on one side in the front while two stand at the back.
The ones standing on the side are drummers, playing the chenda and the maddalam. The
horizontal drum is tied to the waist of the drummer while the vertical
drum is supported by a sling around the player's shoulder. The duo at
the back are singers, doubling up as accompanists with chengila (a gong made of bell metal, which is struck with a wooden stick) and ilathaalam (a pair of cymbals). Don't be overwhelmed by these names...it is just that I had done my homework before going!
As the musicians get going, two men bring a rectangular, decorated
piece of cloth, just like a large bedspread, and stand holding it as if
it were a curtain, shielding a good part of the stage with it. We do not
come to know when the dancer arrives on the stage, for our view is
blocked by the makeshift curtain. A little later, I notice a shiny
headpiece bobbing behind it. Then two hands appear on top of the
curtain. Only the left hand is wearing five rings, one on each finger,
with bright, long nail-shaped extensions. After a display of some
exquisite mudras (hand gestures) by the unseen performer, the
curtain is finally pulled down and taken away. The hero of today's show,
Duryodhana is standing magnificently, with all his bells and whistles.
The first viewing is somewhat intimidating, for his is a larger-than-life figure. The spectacular headpiece, the green face, symmetrical
designs drawn in contrast colours around the eyebrows and the lips in
order to highlight them, the heavy decorations around the neck, the long
black hair, the red full-sleeved jacket and the red and white skirt
held around the hips like a huge umbrella. I am in awe of this costume.
One would need a lot of practice just to carry all this stuff on
oneself! Interestingly, while the ornamentation is very heavy at the
top, the feet are completely bereft of any colour or jewellery. Even the
ghungroos are tied around the knees, not ankles.
The first scene is a slow, romantic act between Duryodhana and his
wife, Bhanumathi. They are in a beautiful garden, appreciating nature's
bounty. This scene is replete with facial expressions and hand gestures.
The whole face is being used like a canvas to express a variety of
emotions. Duryodhana's control over the movement of his eyes and
eyebrows is simply superb. At one point, he even synchronises moving his
eyebrows with the beats of the drum. Bhanumathi, being played by a man
is comparatively less ornate in her costume and accessories.
The next scene shows the court of Duryodhana, where he is discussing
with others the possibility of the Pandavas, who are supposed to be in exile,
taking shelter in the neighbouring kingdom of King Virata. This scene has a lot of movement
and action when a messenger relates various happenings, which strengthen
their suspicion about the presence of the Pandavas in the nearby
kingdom.
In the third scene, Duryodhana summons the king of Trigartha,
Susharma; and asks for his help in the plan to identify the Pandavas and
scare them away to the forest. Susharma is ferocious and scary with his
red hair and red beard. The actors bring alive scenes of battle on the
stage, complete with imaginary chariots, horses and elephants. In the
end, Susharma is of course defeated by Bhima, who is working in the
royal kitchen as a cook during his exile. The battle scenes depicting veer rasa
are ably supported by the musicians, with the music reaching a
crescendo several times during the performance. Not just the actor, but the musicians are so
involved in the scene that they are greatly charged up.
The high-energy performance has been going on non-stop for three
hours. The spirited musicians have been standing all along, captivating
the audience with their invigorating music. The singers have been busy
too, as the entire storytelling happens through the verses that they
sing. The actors/dancers do not say a word. Only the actor playing
Duryodhana unleashes some cries from time to time. The verses are pieces
of poetry written in Manipravalam, which is a mixture of Malayalam and
Sanskrit, used in ancient literary works. I can catch the Sanskrit
words, but the Malayalam component escapes me. It is a pity not to be
able to appreciate the original compositions, but thanks to the
excellent text on the slides being projected on one of the walls of the
stage, I follow the details of the story as it unfolds. And enjoy it
thoroughly! The all-natural ambience at the Kalakshetra and the
appreciative audience add to the experience.
Later, all the artistes are requested to come back to the stage for
the presentations. It is amusing to see that the all-powerful
Duryodhana, who dominated the dance-drama for the last three hours, is a
diminutive man clad in a simple shirt and mundu, completely
shorn of his embellishments. I remember having read somewhere that in
Kathakali, it is important for an actor to let his personality be
completely overshadowed by that of the character he is playing. Sitting
in this pretty little theatre, and looking at the small figure of
Injakkad Ramachandran Pillai on the stage in front of me, I think it is
so true!
A glimpse from an earlier rendition of 'Uttara Swayamvaram':
