January 27, 2012
Instead of Stephen Devassy's Orchestra at the open air theater, Achan and I opted for Kathakali inside Kanakakunnu palace yesterday for the the final night of the Nishagandhi Arts Fest. The auditorium inside the palace is a marvelous space. The historical aura of more than a century of performances is palpable. The spacious stage is framed by a great arch. Balcony boxes with wooden railings upstairs for the special guests. Arrays of scintillating old world chandeliers.
The story for the final day was "Nalacharitham - first day". The story of Nala and Damayanthi from the Mahabharatha, later elaborated by Sriharsha was adapted into a 4 day Kathakali item by Unnayivariyar. Kathakali has its origins in Ramanattam (Rama dance) that was created as a competition for Krishnanaattam by Kottarakara Thampuran in the 17th century. Nowadays, even temples find it impossible to do the 4 day stretch. But at least the tourism department is keeping the stories intact instead of rehashing multiple episodes from different stories to create maximum stage impact as done by a few urban clubs who want to fake their interest in Kerala's heritage with such butchering.
I presume the initial performances in the palace under the reign of Moolam Thirunal and Chithira Thirunal would have been under the light of the single lamp called kalivilakku. The use of stage lights these days certainly dims the artistic beauty of the incredibly colorful and intricate costumes and the large than life portrayals. But then the presence of looming shadows in the past also meant exclusive nature of the art restricted to only the upper segment of the society. Now Kathakali has come down to the masses. A win for the arts. But then one has to tolerate the incessant walking ins and walking outs, frequent photography and chattering. Not so much of a win for the art. Kathakali artists received gifts from the royalty earlier, now it is the applause of the public, international tours and tourism contracts. Definitely not always a keenly appreciative and respectful audience, but certainly more shows guaranteed during the year for the artists. Kathakali used to be all night long affairs starting after 10pm. Now they perform it to match the first show movie screening time: 6pm-10pm.
Yesterday, accomplished maestro Sadanam Krishnankutty played Nalan. The love tormented Nalan dreaming of Damayanthi after Narada entices him with descriptions of her beauty was perfectly safe in the master's hands. The vivid portrayal of Nalan losing interest in everything was brilliant. In fact, acting is the essence of Kathakali. Kathakali ensures deep involvement in al the three classical types of acting namely Natyam (facial expressions to convey emotions associated with words), Nrityam (meaningful hand gestures in tandem with posture) and Nritham (body movements according to music). Even along the further traditional divisions of acting as in Vachikam (dialog-based), Aangikam (gestures), Saathwikam (essential obvious emotional cues like shock, goosebumps, stutter, shivering, paling and tears) and Aaharyam (costume and make-up effects), Kathakali perfects all except the Vachikam which is taken care of by the singers.
The Chenda and Maddalam maestros provided perfect matching as Nalan attempts to play the Veena and then the Chenda only to give up both quickly after spending a long time tuning them. His mind wanders back to Damayanthi. Achan told me that he remembers the Chenda maestro from decades ago. He looked roughly Achan's age. Thanks for my hernia bout, I much admired the Maddalam vidwan's (Kalasala Babu) ability to hang that heavy instrument from his hip for the entire evening.
It was impossible not to relate to the Nalan pining away "Anudinam valarunnu anuragam aval thannil" (Every day my love for her grows)
The troupe was Sri Bhoothanatha Vilasam Sangham from Chattanur as imprinted on the ceremonial curtain (thira). In the second act, the golden swan, Hamsam, makes its appearance. It is tasked with taking Nalan's message to Damayanthi. I don't know the name of the actor who played Hamsam yesterday but he was brilliant. The mimicking of the bird's behavior, the combing of the wings, the fishing, the ruffling of the feathers...flawless. "It's a big bird, Mamma," cried a little African American girl who was in the audience as her still younger sister stopped sucking on the pacifier and stared on keenly. Kathakali is captivating. Amply evident from the scores of foreign tourists who strolled into the auditorium and got glued to their seats. A tall, lanky octagenarian lady in a long flowing blue gown with peacock pattern frequently got up from her seat and with her cane walked close to the stage to take photographs. A well-tanned European girl found herself a mundu-clad thick mustached mallu Kathakali aficionado who was only too happy to share his passion for the art with her. I am glad I wasn't looking very helpful tonight, the generous sprinkling of Sanskrit in the song kept plenty of the details of the play beyond me though the meticulous facial expressions filled in almost all the gaps.
We left after the third act of Damayanthi with her friends in the garden. When we walked round the building towards the stairs, I saw the 'Chenda' mastro resting under the mango tree. During Onam season, there was a swing on that tree. When he looked towards us, I raised my hands and gestured a silent applause. A wide smile flashed on his face and he climbed down from the concrete parapet around the tree. We met.
"Nalan.... aarayirunnu?" (Who was Nalan tonight?) asked Achan.
"Sadanam Krishnakutty!" his eyes widened with his admiration for that artist and the reverence for that name.
"Saarinte peru?" (Your name, Sir?) I asked
"Radhakrishnan" he said
"Radhakrishnan...?" I repeated wanting him to add a title.
"Kalamandalam" he said with unmistakable pride in belonging to that prestigious institution in Cheruthuruthi founded by Vallathol.
"Orupadu varshangalku munpu kandittund. Ivanokke munpe" (Have seen you many years ago. Before him) Achan said pointing towards me. I guess that meant around 35 years ago.
"Santosham" (Pleasure) the maestro never stopped smiling.
Achan and he discussed a few illustrious erstwhile Kathakali performers.
I made sure I grabbed both his hands while saying good bye. I had seen the magic in them just a few minutes ago.
Stupendous talent on stage, remarkable simplicity in life!
While walking home, we decided to get serious about regularly going to the weekly Kathakali performances at the Margi center in the city. I started reading Prof. Ambalapuzha Ramavarma's "Kathakali Nirupanam", a critique on the art. The couple of sentences I dropped in the earlier paragraph about divisions of classical acting technique in India are borrowed from this great collection of essays. A glorious ending to the week long Nishagandhi arts fest.
No comments:
Post a Comment