By Narasimhan Vijayaraghavan
Subbudu was a legendary critic. Of music and dance. I am no Subbudu. No legend. No critic. Neither of music. Nor of dance. As Ernest Hemingway said, quoted by Paulo Coelho, “ I am a beast of the – have pen, will write – variant”. An innocuous viral variant, if you will. I am a deeply and desperately poverty stricken poor man’s Subbudu. Here is my minus two penny write up, on a dance performance.
He was a potter by profession and earned his livelihood thus, despite inheriting large plots of lands. The philosophically inclined Gora Kumbar had little interest in worldly activities and always went into a zone, while singing the bhajans . Once while preparing the mud required to make earthen pots, he was fully engrossed in singing, while his child, a toddler, playing near him, slipped into a ditch. Unbeknown, Gora trampled and crushed his child, under his feet.He chose to chop of his arms, as he vowed to never touch his wife, who got wild, when she came to know about the tragic trampling of their son.
The family went to Phandarpur. And while doing Bhajan, audience was requested to repeat after the singer and clap in unison. During the kirtan, people raised their hands and started clapping. Even Gora forgot that his hands were chopped off and instinctively moved the stumps of his hands emotionally in the air. To everyone’s surprise, his hands sprung up from his broken arms. His wife Shanti prayed to Vithoba, begged his pardon and requested him to give her child back to her. And what a wonder-their child appeared and rushed, crawling towards Shanti. Shanti hurried forward, lifted the child, embraced and kissed it with emotion. Believe it not, a misty eyed mami in front, was sobbing.
How do you capture it in song and dance? Dance isn’t something that can be explained in words. It has to be danced. Bob Hope put it beautifully, “I grew up with six brothers. That’s how I learned to dance. Waiting for the bathroom”.The ‘emotive’ content or the poignancy, is no easy faculty to demonstrate. The story is told. Those who are aware of the character can relate to it. For ignoramuses like yours truly, the dancer has to communicate with more than her eyes. The body language must synchronize. And, ladies and gentlemen, if I got more than a hang of the storyline, then the performance ought to have been damn good. Believe me.
Bhaje Panduranga, performed by a thirty plus old years’ Bharatha Natyalaya, a dance school of veteran dancer Kalaimamani (to be politically correct) Roja Kannan, did just that. On a Wednesday, 28th Dec,2022, at Bharathiya Vidya Bhavan,Mylapore, one was surprised to see a near full house for a ‘ticketed’ performance, at 19.45 hrs (a late start- wonder how many stayed back; except friends/family). There were some in the balcony too! People pay to watch dancers dance? Was it a dance-drama? I don’t know, as my credentials to comment,much less critique,are not just wobbly.Just plain absent.
Nevertheless, go I did, to hear. And write, for I am of the ‘have pen-will write’ afflicted community. Chennai’s Creative Cities Network status was and is not for Carnatic music alone. Dance occupies an equal pride of place, as the UNESCO certification commends.And Margazhi is not mere Music. It is dance too. And of course, the performers dance to music. George Bernard Shaw famously said – Dance is a perpendicular desire performed horizontally! These dancers from the Roja Kannan school, put up a stellar performance- vertically, horizontally,perpendicularly and divinely.
Well, I went because I became aware that the upcoming singer from the stable of late P S Narayanswamy and now Abhishek Raghuram, was lending his voice , as the lead singer. Prithivi Harish, he happens to be and has come to be already ‘noticed’ as a ‘star’ in the making. With his science and engineering background, he sings with nasal precision tools viz. vocal cords, that is captivating. A welcome pivot to the dance platform , as it widens his repertoire and exposure, when it matters. He did not disappoint, as one could quietly close one’s eyes in the darkened hall and simply ‘enjoy’ the trials and tribulations in Gora Kumbar’s and Sakkubai’s lives. It was soulful.
Damn it, of course, I had a disclaimer purpose too.
And then there was Sakkubai, a holy woman who worshiped Lord Krishna of Pandharpur. Sakkubai looked after her husband’s home and family very well in spite of the abuses that she had to suffer from her mother-in-law. She only wanted the Lord’s darshan; nothing else mattered to her. Lord Krishna heard her prayer and appeared in front of her in the form of a woman.
The woman asked Sakkubai whether she wanted to go to Pandharpur. Sakkubai, in her physically bound state, was evidently unable to go. The woman removed the rope and freed Sakkubai and tied herself up in Sakkubai’s place; she told Sakkubai to proceed to Pandharpur. Through Gods grace Sakkubai reached Pandharpur in a moment. She was so happy and felt that she was not only freed from the bond of the rope, but also from the bonds of life, and the good lord took Sakkubai’s form and served her in laws.
Who does not know Sakkubai, you may ask? The mylapore mama next to me did not. He had come because his Athimber had a spare ticket and did not want it to go ‘waste’. And he asked me (of all the people) for the storyline because his Athimber, back home would verify on his ‘whereabouts with a costly ticket’. I told him my own storyline. He may have had a lot to answer his Athimber! What a waste! Margazhi Music season is full of characters.Including me, I agree.
The Bharathanatyam dance form is kept alive thanks to the feminine gender. We too dance. A Japanese proverb is apt: We’re fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. Maybe to ‘them’. Young girls pick it up because the mother wants to fulfill her dream. Then the company they keep drives their ambition. It is quite costly. Hard on the GPay or credit cards.And how the performances get staged, is a mystery wrapped in churchilian enigma, as sponsors are stingy. I know. They don’t see value in sponsoring events attended only by ‘friends and family’, they say.
Typical of my digressive writing virus, I hark back to my school days. Our family subscribed to Narada Gana Sabha, then staging shows at the Academy. Remember the dream girl Hemamalini danced and danced to sponsor, in part, the construction of the building where NGS is now situate. One of those ‘dance’ days , I went with a friend – to occupy H36 seat ( H35, the other) in the balcony.
I had ‘some’ experience,which we set out to have. Our seats were reserved. We knew the hall will be full and overflowing. Tickets would have been oversold. Anticipating many member absentees preferring dramas, to dance. We made our move. The performance started at 19.00 hrs. We entered at 19.15 hrs in the dark. We knew our way to our reserved seats.
Already, two young girls in jeans and revealing tops, were seated there. Most or the entire audience must have come to see the ‘film shhtar Hema’, as they all adorably addressed her. We had no care or concern for the dance performance. ‘Hema’ was the least of our concerns. We went in to have some fun. And we had lots of it.
We showed our tickets to the supervisor. They were marked H35/H36 clearly. The seats were occupied. We wanted them vacated, as they were ‘our’ seats. Reserved for us. The girls were not yielding. As they had come band occupied an hour earlier. And had valid tickets ‘purchased with great difficulty as they were selling in black’ they said. And performance had started, and our reservations has ‘lapsed’. We did not care. We declined to have more vantage seats. We wanted our pound of flesh, ‘our’ seats.
An elderly Sabha offocianado came in to mediate. We were unyielding and uncompromising. We loved it because the girls reciprocated. As the performance began, this ‘fight for seats’ as if for legislature, was being protested by the audience- with sh sh shs- . That made it more fun, more than what we, as school students had bargained for.
A couple of elders got up and asked, “What was the fuss all about?”. We told them and a threesome who joined in, to negotiate armistice. We were in the right. We were declared winners. We were elated when the girls abused us, loud and clear, while staging a ‘principled walkout’.
Within 15 minutes, around 19.30 hrs, having conquered our seats, we happily walked out, as we had came to have fun and we got a full fill. Far more than what we were looking for. The fury and anger in the girls’ faces and lips, made our day or night, if you will, even better.
As we moved out and got down, we saw the girls standing outside, not sure what move to make next. My friend, typical of the mischievous him, accosted them, and politely offered our tickets,as I took to my heels.
I am too old to now seek such fun. Bhaje Panduranga was a far more honourable route to have a different genre of fun. It was good, clean and musically divine, with a prayerful storyline too. And the lead singer Prithivi Harish, unerringly, made my day. Such performances need to travel. Do we care? Should we?
The mami seated next to me could not watch the trampling of the Shanti-Gora Kumbar’s little one. She insisted, I guide her out from the dark hall. I obliged. That I thought was perfect success for Roja Kannan and her girls- not the least- to Prithivi Harish who brought out the pathos in his moving voice to move the mami home. Well done.
As for the girls who performed, an all girls’ team-they had lots of fun (Disclaimer: my younger daughter was one of those), notwithstanding the pathos and poignancy in the portrayals, as could one see and sense, and THAT, dear reader, was enjoyable.
(Author is practicing advocate in the
Madras High Court)