The emotional rebel
SHASHIDHAR BHARIGHAT
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C.G. Krishnaswamy, who passed away recently, was one of the major forces of the Kannada amateur theatre movement. The modernist, who raised a strong anti-establishment voice, identified himself with all the progressive movements of our times
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AGAINST THE GRAIN C.G. Krishnaswamy (right) with Badal Sircar. The two were separated by geographical boundaries, but they were driven by the same ideology Photo: Sampath Kumar G.P.
When one documents the history of modern theatre, the '70s is a major landmark. It heralded a cultural revolution with the loud declaration that art is not for arts' sake but art is for people. Samudaya, one of the earliest theatre groups of amateur movement, with its cultural jatha was responsible for rejuvenating a society that seemed to be in a state of inaction. C.G. Krishnaswamy, who had just then come into Samudaya, played the lead role in this major event and came as an offering to the social and cultural world of Karnataka. Born into ordinary circumstances, CGK belonged to a backward community. His father Govindanaika worked for the agriculture department in Mandya. Though they hailed from Chellakere, they lived in Mandya.
Soft at heart
CGK, fully aware of the travails of rural life, was soft at heart. Even when he studied economics, he analysed rural and urban lives layer by layer, and constantly worried over the widening chasm between the city and the village. It was this anxiety that pulled him into mainstream politics. Thereon he became active with Youth Congress. Around this time, CGK's suppressed cultural consciousness saw an awakening and he decided that theatre was the right tool for articulating his thoughts. If Samudaya has grown to be a reckoning force today, CGK is responsible in a big way. With his outstanding organisational capabilities and an ability to sail through every crisis, he rose as the new sun of Kannada theatre. And this sun continued to shine till the day he died.
From groups such as Samudaya, Ranga Sampada and Ranga Nirantara his journey reached Sanehalli. Amidst these there was also Sanchaya, Handara, Mico Lalitha Kala Sangha with whom he bonded closely and built a huge theatre fraternity. He did several theatre productions for rural groups and was responsible to expand the limits of Kannada theatre.
One can see four distinct divisions in CGK's career. Samudaya's community awareness jathas, the important plays he did with Ranga Sampada, the plays he did with Ranga Nirantara and other amateur groups and his recent expeditions to Sanehalli, which was a rural theatre experiment.
Nevertheless, it is impossible to confine CGK to just theatre. One cannot but recognise CGK as one of the prime advocates of the progressive social movements of Karnataka. He identified himself with the Bandaya and Dalit movements. He was greatly moved by the alarming living conditions of the rural community of Karnataka. Social discrimination, caste politics affected CGK deeply and that was probably why he strived to bring rural talent to mainstream. In his plays, all the key characters were representatives of the downtrodden. Whether it was with Devanooru Mahadeva's Odalala, Shivaprakash's Mahachaitra or his play on the Bhakti poet Kanakadasa, the underprivileged were the protagonists of his plays. And through these characters CGK opened hitherto unknown worlds to his audiences.
There sure was an element of spectacle even when he spoke of poverty and could leave you agitated, but he was never insincere about grief. CGK brought a value, a dignity to theatre experiments. Beginning from publicity to production, CGK had his own unique style.
CGK would take it upon himself to release unusual books, organise poetry sessions, seminars and felicitate people with exceptional achievements. After he took over the Gandhi Study Centre, CGK turned it into a dynamic institution. In recent times, he was also involved with farmer's problems, seed production, agriculture, and the depleting underground water reserves. He had brought out monographs of people who practised a Gandhian way of life in the series Namma Naduvina Gandhigalu.
All-in-one
It would be lop-sided to single him out as a theatre person, or an activist, or as a social thinker... because he was all this and more. Like every other human being, CGK had his failings too. In a situation when someone didn't let him be his natural self and it affected his personal calm, CGK would get livid and let out a string of abuses, many his own coinages.
Like everybody else, CGK also aspired for position and honour. It may have been in the lighter vein, but he did talk of occupying the highest positions. He probably would have been an MLC. Probably he would have received the Central Sangeet Natak Academy award too. But CGK has left us. He has taken his own route to his destination, leaving us behind to speculate.
Magnetic pull
CGK had great faith in youngsters. Especially those from under-privileged sections
Theatre fascinated me from school and college days. Thanks to a teacher who had the vision to rope us all into the alumni association, Sanchaya, we did theatre regularly. But it was only after we met C.G. Krishnaswamy that our grasp and perception of theatre changed dramatically. It was only after we came in contact with him, a live wire, that our notions of theatre as a spectacle changed. For him, it was a voice that spoke for the underdog, a protest against the establishment, a forum for the unrepresented.
CGK, who was an economics professor by profession, had an unusual fondness for us, the Sanchaya group. It probably came from his firm belief that youngsters could make a meaningful difference to an ailing society. "Don't confine yourself to Jayanagar alone. You should perform in Ravindra Kalakshetra," he egged us on. "You must beat the dust in whatever you do," CGK would say. He even offered to direct a play for us. For a group that didn't think much of itself, it was CGK, an established name in theatre, who gave us the confidence that we had it in us to do more.
We accepted to be a part of his production with great trepidation because we had heard of his legendary temper and abusive language. It was K.V. Narayan's Kannada translation of Bertolt Brecht's play, Anke Tappida Shankarlal. I remember we had extensive reading sessions in Kalakshetra — on the steps, in the lounge, in Samsa — for a month.
Several people would drop by to meet him, not necessarily connected to theatre and not always people of consequence. Many a times it would be someone whom he had met during a show in some remote village. But CGK had a magnetic presence that pulled all those who came into contact with him to theatre. Outwardly, he was a coarse, unsophisticated man who could say on your face what he thought. This had earned him many enemies. But he was emotionally intense. And once he formed a relationship, it was one to last forever. CGK used to develop tremendous attachment to new talent. He had great faith in young minds and gave them opportunities that would baffle even them.
It was so even in our case. Our bond grew stronger after the play. CGK had become an inseparable part of our lives. We had to be part of everything that he did and even without asking him we could put his name in any of Sanchaya's activities. He was a fantastic organiser, who could sit in Samsa Open Air Theatre and organise mammoth programmes to perfection. CGK trained so many youngsters in backstage and gave them a means to livelihood. Many of them have gone on to become names to reckon with in the film industry.
Personal touch
CGK had a hundred dreams to chase, several projects on hand, but would never fail to call and check if all was well. Even when his own pocket was empty (which was more often than not), he wouldn't think a second time to give away whatever he had. One can have quarrels with CGK's brand of theatre, but what kept me attached to him was the humanist in him. He had a place for everyone. You could have ideological differences with him, bitter wrangles with him, and CGK took it all in his stride and would continue to love you. For instance, when he with a secular outlook, worked for the BJP man Jeevaraj Alwa, I couldn't agree with him at all. Each time I asked "How could you?", he would only say: "It is for the man, and not for his party." This was his major weakness. If he loved somebody, ideology just blurred into the background. It was also one of the reasons why people did, at times, look at him with suspicion.
At a time when "doing theatre" culture is rampant, I miss CGK because he meant so much to all those who shy away from urban forums because they neither have the language nor the shallow confidence.
K.R. GANESH
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