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Nachiyar aesthetically conceived
THERE WERE no dips into the humdrum in Nachiyar, the latest offer
in Bharatanatyam Theatre presented at the Sri Krishna Gana Sabha,
the work produced for Arangham Trust by Anita Ratnam whose
concept and choreography have visualised the work. The love
lyrics of Andal, the ninth century female mystic, who believed
she was Destiny's child meant to be the bride of Vishnu, are not
new material for dancers of Bharatanatyam. But the entire
treatment in Nachiyar produces an aroma and substance quite
different from the usual fare.
The opening Sthapanam scene is all about consecration of
performance space, as prescribed in the Natya Sastra. The Sthamba
sthapanam, in accordance with Vastu Sastra, with the defining of
the stage into its components like Mattavarini, Nepathya etc, and
the propitiation of the guardian deities of the different
directions, were portrayed in an excellently choreographed,
tightly knit ten-minute scene rendered by finished dancers. The
recorded music for this, with O. S. Arun's voice (who composed
the score for the entire production) was somewhat sandpapery in
its gritty and harsh quality, even while one could grasp the
clearly enunciated words, after which came the musical
embroidering. Arun's musical imagination in its free wheeling
ecstasy tends to go far beyond the needs of the dance. But as one
who has devised the score (sung by another), he has done a fine
job for this production.
While the opening scene cannot be faulted for movement designing
or in the rendition, its relevance to the theme of Andal was
somewhat far- fetched. The next long spun solo scene sees Anita
make her entrance as Andal behind a shimmering tirai held by two
dancers on either side, with the screen becoming a part of the
dance designing, as it is tugged, pulled, gathered and
manipulated into geometrical shapes. Kodhai, as Andal was known,
expresses in this elaborate composition, her envy for the Conch,
the Panchajanya, resting on the shoulders of Krishna, for its
proximity to the Lord. Ever close to his ear, and played on his
lips, the Conch carries the fragrance of Vishnu. Does his mouth
smell of camphor or lotuses? wonders Andal in her vivid
imagination. ``Karpooram Narumo'' set to Kalyani ragam and
structured like a mini varnam had a delicate underlining of
eroticism.
The instrumental shadings whether in the use of the duff, the
blowing on the Conch (the clarity of the controlled sound and
sruti, the obvious work of an expert), the subtle drum
interventions, the use of the Chinnam or double clarionet all
combined in a mature abstemiousness far from the insulting
opulence one is often treated to in dance theatre productions.
This minimalism where more is said with less, reveals an evolving
process in the dancer. It would seem that Anita has found her
place in Bharatanatyam, in off-beat creations in which she revels
rather than the Alaripu to Tillana margam format.
Revathy Sankkaran's introduction as foster mother/narrator,
turned out in the saree tied in Iyengar fashion, singing out and
occasionally speaking out the profound love torment of Andal,
added a dramatic touch and had an austere beauty, unsmudged by
orchestral paddings, the lone voice far more communicative in its
starkness. The ritual procession scene enacted in the backdrop of
Thirukurungudi temple songs, with a fervent cry to the Lord Nambi
was most aesthetically conceived, its vibrancy bringing in a new
urgency in the narrative tempo.
Then came the emotionally battered Andal, her craving for the
Lord in its explicit eroticism, visualised in Anita's very
involved enactment.
The lyrics were all from Nachiyar Tirumozhi and Divya Prabandham.
The final dream sequence of Andal where she sees herself as being
the Lord's bride, amidst all the wedding fanfare, is a known
theme in Bharatanatyam. Convincing and without any tumultuous
overshoot, the scene portrayed Andal, in a somnambulant ecstasy,
the bride in her individuality merging with the Cosmic identity
of the Lord. The production touched all hearts.
L. Subhashree's competent nattuvangam led a well-rehearsed team
of musicians - R. Shobana (vocal), M. K. Kesavan (mridangam),
Muthukumar (flute), and Kailasa Kambar, the traditional
Thirukurungudi expert on the conch and Chinnam. With Andal's
costume tastefully designed by V. V. Ramani (it was rich without
being loud), Anita costuming for the rest of the group, sensitive
music by O. S. Arun and research by Professor Venkatakrishnan and
Padma Veeraraghavan, each department of the work was well
attended to.
Last, but not the least, were the trained dancers L. Narendra,
Yagna Prabha, Aarti M. Bodani, Guhendran, Madhusoodanan, Lata
Chandrasekar and Vidya Prabha.
Birju Maharaj saves the day
With the unavoidable absence of Guru Kelucharan Mahapatra, which
put paid to the planned blockbuster event of a Jugalbandi
featuring legends, Kelubabu and Birju Maharaj, the December
Season for the Sri Krishna Gana Sabha may well have ended in a
tame fashion. But with Pandit Birju Maharaj (along with prime
disciple Saswati Sen) stepping into the breach, the Sabha was
given a finale to remember. The packed auditorium was given
indelible impressions of the most sustained articulation of a
many splendoured genius - dancing, singing and playing (tabla)
his way into people's hearts.
The Krishna thrust in the recital of Birju Maharaj began with a
delicate Sringar invocation ``Seshamukuta'' with the emphasis on
the line ``Radha Dekha Krishna Ko, Krishna Radhika Ko''
picturising each of Radha and Krishna lost in the other's beauty.
It was in the purely rhythmic and technique-oriented part that
Maharajji illustrated his highly sensitised feel for laya,
perceived in every facet of Nature and of life activity. Ankle
bells captured the sounds of silence in the night, of the ebb and
swell of waves, of twittering birds from the singing one to the
waddling, quack quacking duck each sound image structured into
the traditional mould of a tihai, a chhand or a ladi. Rhythm, in
this guru's vision, is not just an arithmetical construct, but
has a spirit.
At his age of above sixty, one is amazed at the easy flow of the
dance (without the slightest sign of effort), which has a grace
and precision few can emulate. The majestic gait of the elephant
and the rider swaying with the rhythm of its walk and the Mayur
Gat were rendered the way only the Guru can. As for the tonal
music of the ``Na Dhin Dhin Na'' and the upaj with improvised
permutations woven into the lehra refrain, they were in a class
of their own. The Bindadin lyric ``Bihari Ko Apane Baskar
Payoon'' had in his rendition the same refinement in abhinaya.
The master triumphed over the limitations of accompaniment,
which, while correct, had little feel for delicacy.
When Maharajji provided the tabla accompaniment for Saswati Senin
the Dhamar (tala cycle set to fourteen beats), the tonal nuances
in rhythm were more noticeable. Variations in the ``Dha Ta Ka
Thunga'' tukras, Paran, Tihai, Chakkars were all presented. The
abhinaya for ``Sham Tori Murali Mein Neik Bajaoon'' met with a
gut rendition, the dancer spurred by some moving singing by
Pandit Birju Maharaj. Let me play your flute, says Radha dressed
in all the finery of Krishna while she adorns Krishna with all
her customary decorations. You go to Brindavan to sell buttermilk
and for once let me do the waylaying. The nayika who imagines
herself to be a part of Him whose flute she has a right to play,
soon wakes up to the folly of imagining herself to be an equal of
the Lord, and begs forgiveness. The final footwork sequence with
guru and disciple articulatingalternate beats of the rhythm
cycle, in an accelerando, provided the fitting finale.
Tabla was played by Utpal Ghosal. The singer who sang with melody
but needed to lessen the harsh bellowing of the harmonium, was
Prateek Banerjee. On the sitar was Zuber Sheikh. Assembled from
different parts of the country at the nth hour, the music did not
have the unity of a rehearsed togetherness and it was left to the
finesse of Pandit Birju Maharaj to provide the final touch.
LEELA VENKATARAMAN
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