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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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