INSIGHTS INTO ARDHANARISWAR CONCEPT

A jamboree held in Mumbai had over 200 artistes from all genres and styles of music, dance and theatre converge to create an unforgettable tapestry of Indian performing arts.

An eight-day workshop was held at The National Centre for the Performing Arts, (N. C. P. A) Mumbai. Dubbed as a creative experiment to discover “the feminine in us”, it was titled “The Hidden River”. Saraswati, the goddess of art and herself a hidden river, was invoked to serve as a raft for this exploration. The innovative dipstick into the Jungian theory of anima exploited the vast and rich matrix of our performing arts tradition to probe into our inner consciousness and provide insights on the Ardhanariswar concept in the context of modern society. The male-female principle seems to be the current fixation among our artistes considering that there were at least three major productions centering around this theme last year.

What is unique about this presentation is that it was a confluence of over 20 tributaries of classical and folk art traditions gently persuaded to flow towards the common Sangam of rediscovering the essence of Atman or soul.

The workshop was conducted by Rajeev Sethi who has won awards such as the Padmabhushan (1985) and “Designer of the Year” (1992). Sethi navigated the perilous course with a crew comprising of theatre heavyweights like Vijaya Mehta, Shama Zaidi, Bhaskar Chandavarkar and Shanta Gokhale.

Together they attempted to crossbreed Bharatanatyam and A.K. Ramanujam’s poem, with an Alaap by a Manganiyar and graft Mayurbhanj Chhau to Koodiyaattam drums, creating something whose appeal was but transient. Sethi was, of course, totally at ease with this sort of thing having masterminded the Apna Utsav and Aditi earlier. He comes across as a visualiser for whom the world is indeed a stage. The cast comprised of 150 members and the canvas was vast. Sethi drew out the best from each artiste. The workshop began with nothing but a loose script but as the theme developed, a giant jigsaw began to fall in place. The challenges in visualization and sheer logistics could have seemed insuperable but for Sethi’s perseverance and the sponsor’s generosity.

The first two days of the workshop were devoted to introducing each other and demonstrations to determine the force of each art. The third and fourth days were the actual joining of pieces and observers were privileged to imbibe the heady mela atmosphere and witness strikingly touching vignettes of dance and music which the informality of the occasion seemed to inspire. Maya Rao (Delhi) demonstrated the power of Kathakali’s subliminal beauty when unencumbered by makeup and costume. Unfortunately, she did not participate in the final event.

A theatre experience is influenced in no small measure by the ambience in which it is staged. A special performance space was constructed amidst the ruins of a derelict textile mill near the picturesque pier of one of Mumbai’s docks. The clear starlit sky overhead and a chilly sea-breeze heightened expectations and ensured audience participation.

The centrestage was surrounded by a pit where all the participants sat and watched the others, getting up only on cue to do their bit.

The pit had another border of narrow platform which was used to great advantage. Split-levels and minor satellite platform created a feeling of space and time.

A shrine for Ardhanariswar was consecrated high up an aisle, allowing performers to walk into spectator space. The mythological dimension of the male and female principle was demonstrated by Ammanur Madhava Chakyar and Kudunalur K. Nair. In their heyday, the two octogenarians were much admired for their artistry. Today, weighed down by age, costume and makeup, their movements were a little restricted. Raja Radha Reddy converted a Kshetrajna Padam into a mini drama. Their depiction of the cosmic union went down well with the audience. Unfortunately, the vocalist accompanying them was mediocre and the only contribution of music from the southern belt was disappointing to say the least.

The process and methodology of the workshop, threw up several interesting ideas which were immediately seized upon and absorbed into the script. For instance, when Navtej Johar was depicting the bhakti element, Asha Coorlawala, a contemporary dancer, was inspired to express herself in abstract movements. Another factor was the emergence of parallel themes which provided more grist for the mill. Anwar, a Manganiyar who amazed everyone with the sheer beauty of his voice and music, confessed that his wife is not permitted by tradition to appear or perform on stage.

He was immediately challenged by Teejan Bai, the famous Pandwani storyteller. As a result, Anwar’s wife and daughter also performed for the first time that evening.

Nurjehan Bai, a courtesan from Baroda, had given up music after she stopped practicing her profession. For the workshop, she was coaxed into performing after a gap of 15 years. Her voice, packing real emotive power, touched a chord in the hearts of the listeners.

The history of classical dance was another welcome interpolation Two charming Gotipuas from Orissa, inspired Guru Kelucharan Mahapatra to reminisce his own childhood. Kelubabu’s Ashtapadi symbolized the truth this project was driving at when he transformed himself into Radha in dalliance with the Eternal Lover Krishna.

Others who impressed with their performances were Shaheeda Bano, (daughter of Nurjehan Begum) who sang a Quawwali. Ghazi Khan, the wizard with the castanets was especially scintillating when he was pitted against the intricate rhythms of the Koodiyaattam drums, --- no mean achievement for a folk artiste. Teejan Bai, the feisty storyteller, turned the tables during the workshop when she declared, “The female element in man is a well known fact, but what about the man in me?”

Other themes of a contemporary nature which were touched upon were amniocentesis, female infanticide and abortion. This was a contribution of urban theatre. Effective narration in English by eminent theatre personalities brought the burning questions of female survival closer to heart.

But one could not understand the need for rubbing salt in the still raw wounds of the Mumbai psyche by enacting a communal riot scene. It was irrelevant.

The presentation juxtaposed the body language spoken by Malkahamb gymnasts with those from the street and the circus. It was pathetic to see the marginalized theatre forms like the Therukoothu (Tamil Nadu), the Bahuroopia, Bhavai (Gujarat), Baul (Bengal), Bansrani (East India) and the Nats (Gujarat). The awesome skill of the Charkop dancers who swirled and danced with four tiered plates and pots ringed with flaming lamps on their heads was enhanced by the enormous drum and high-pitched singing accompaniment. Three women demonstrated Theratali skillfully striking together the cymbals tied on various parts of the body.

The presentation ended on a thrilling note dictated by typical touristy formula and had all the performers dancing the Phugadi (couples twirling around holding crossed hands) on the stage.  The tremendous effort, energy and fun poured into this jamboree will remain an evanescent self-indulgence for a privileged few, considering that no effort was taken to document the process or the product of the workshop. The invitation to the workshop claimed that “The workshop will conclude as a docu-drama to be presented to an Indian and international audience.” One fervently wishes that this will be made possible. The mega-event also went unnoticed in Mumbai, a major centre for art.

The performances were open to a small number of invitees. When questioned on the lack of publicity given to the event, an NCPA spokesman said, ‘we wanted it that way.’ The other organization which coordinated this event was SARTHI, a voluntary agency aiming to help artistes.

While the first performance was wasted on a restless and unappreciative crowd, it was a consolation that the invitees on the second day waited patiently for the leisurely presentation to unwind. The balance of the yin and yang in Nature, in our tradition and performing arts is an essential aspect of life. The yo-yo syndrome of constantly having to work at maintaining this balance and its indisputable existence was sharply brought into top focus by this project.

The double-faced drums, Purush and Prakriti, Tandava and Lasya, Raudra and Shringara were some of the pair of opposites which were explored. The one achievement which seemed most significant was the breakdown of physical and mental barriers among the participants. All regional, parochial and chauvinistic shrouds were hung up to dry on this peg. The eagerness to respond to the others, the willingness to interact and ability to appreciate were heartening happenings in the increasingly commercial arts world. Many precious issues were thus churned up in this gathering which Madhava Chakyar likened to an ‘Indra Sabha’. Narrative traditions and the abstract related in terms of their flow into one another. Solo dancing traditions seem to be threatened by the sheer energy generated by multiple streams and plural visuals.

Is it a sign of times? This concern is voiced by yet another observer who is also a Chhau dancer. “Our arts are best left alone. What is the mental make-up of a simple folk dancer who is exposed to this mind-boggling variety of kinetic images?” asks Prakriti Kashyap. “Dissatisfaction will creep in and there will be absorption of alien elements into the art.” As it happened, this was proved beyond doubt when Gulabo, a bewitchingly beautiful Rajasthani dancer, interspersed her natural folk dancing style with mannerisms a la Dixit.

[Published on March 15, 1996, in Friday Review of ‘The Hindu’, (Chennai)]

Author’s Note:

This was the first feature I wrote for this prestigious newspaper. I was then invited to contribute regularly about Mumbai based cultural events and did so for two years. ‘The Hindu’ proudly maintains a high standard of the Queen’s English and is almost the only publication where fine arts, literature, and young readers have special weekly supplements.