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Forever Bhagyam
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Theatre was the life-breath for Bhagirathi Narayanan, says this tribute written on behalf of Chennai's theatre fraternity
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Bhagirathi Narayanan is no more. She died with the same passion that ruled her life — Theatre. It was theatre that was her life-breath; it was also theatre that took it away from her. She collapsed on stage during a performance last Friday.
Bhagirathi, or Bhagyam as we all fondly knew her, of course, would have wanted no other way out. Like the swashbuckling Errol Flynn, who died laughing, Bhagyam breathed her last over a couple of lines of poetry in front of an adoring audience on the night of April 15, leaving the theatre community and her legion of friends and admirers numbed with shock.
A phenomenon
To us, Bhagyam represented the gut-wrenching agony of the committed artiste ever in search of that elusive spark of ecstatic theatrical fulfilment. Never for her were half measures. She gave fully of her intensity at all times, holding nothing back, enveloping all who came into contact with her into the creative fire raging in her heart. As an actor, her sensitivity, range and empathy — her smouldering passion — moved audiences everywhere. The deep, expressive voice, magnetic eyes that bored into your soul, the richness of ebony and the splendour of night that were her adornments — Bhagyam on stage was a phenomenon; you could not take your eyes off her. With age, she had begun to reinvent and rediscover herself both on the Tamil and English stage, experimenting with new roles, new expression, showing the audience shades of her prodigious talent that they had not seen before, and leaving them yearning for more. But, then... now she has left them altogether, with just memories of her wonderful presence, her restless, relentless energy.
Quest for artistic truth
As a director, she pushed her actors to the limits of discovery, was uncompromising in her demands, and unforgiving of mediocrity. She inspired actors to share her burning quest for artistic truth, constantly putting them through exercises and simulations to get into the skin of their characters, "Feel the sub-text, guys... !," we can still hear her say, as she drove us to new insights. No one minded, for she drove herself as fiercely, too. There was exhaustion, frustration and pain in the process, but there was always the joy of understanding and fulfilment at the end. Whether it was the agraharam in "Mangalam", or the media-savvy world of "Lizard Waltz", the folk ambience of "Nagamandala", or the delicately bizarre twists of Chekov, Bhagyam brought to bear a certain freshness in interpretation that was unique to her. She used music and dance innovatively in her productions to embellish texture, and worked with children too, in several workshops and plays. She was directing Badal Sircar's "Evam Indrajit" for a June presentation, when tragedy struck.
Self-effacing to a fault, with never a harsh word against another, Bhagyam was to the theatre fraternity a fountainhead of knowledge and wisdom. She touched all our lives in even so many ways, and so generously, and though a long-standing member of The Madras Players, was accessible to all groups.
Bhagyam, we salute your memory. We will miss you - you were special, one-of-a-kind — Whence, indeed, comes such another?
P. C. RAMAKRISHNA
(A member of The Madras Players)
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