Creativity lies in presenting the familiar in a way as to evoke wonderment — which is exactly what Geeta Chandran’s designing of “Bhakti Pravah” for the Natya Vriksha group presentation at Chinmaya Centre achieved. That music and dances like Bharatanatyam revel in spirituality, aimed at unravelling new spaces of aesthetic fulfilment shared by performer and audience alike, hardly needs repeating. But in being able to weave new arrangements out of what is well known, both Rajiv Chandran and Geeta Chandran, he as compere and she as dancer/choreographer make an inimitable combination. Aruna Sairam’s musical inputs (mallari), and Karaikkudi Sivakumar’s rhythmic arithmetic, sung by Sudha Raghuraman in the recorded music, with Geeta Chandran’s and Aiyappan’s nattuvangam, provided the musical foundation.
Taking the outside temple space as the starting point of a journey in “Rasananda”, the traditional mallari, set for a group, was brilliantly visualised. Both in terms of the geometry of spacing of dancers, and the way each cycle of the tala was split into fractional combinations with articulated and silent syllables was one of the most original ways of designing this item, while not losing sight of the main image of the temple deity being taken in a circumambulation of the temple. The Natya Vriksha students flawlessly executed this racy opening number where bhakti evoked, apart from a sense of reverence, a feel of expectation.
Also dramatic and riveting in its quick changing visual images and rhythmic arrangements was the varnam in Behag “Vanajakshi ninne nammiti” one of the jewels composed by late T.R. Subramanyam. Whether it was Krishna hiding the clothes of the gopis enjoying a bath in the Yamuna, as a lesson in shedding egoistic vanity, or whether it was Krishna jumping into the river to subdue Kaliya, here the God himself enjoyed triggering events creating rasa. The interspersed rhythmic jati punctuations (excellent nattuvangam by Geeta herself), the manner in which each rhythmic passage was split for a group, without hurting its integrated feel, revealed Geeta’s exceptional feel for group choreography. The dancers unobtrusively separated or came together in clusters and neat formations — for sharing emotive scenes or for rhythmic passages — all fluid without creating any sense of abruptness. The dancers need to be congratulated on their finished performance where while revelling in fleeting solo moments, they were on a shared journey of wonderment at scenes from Vrindavan. Narrative passages apart, in the interpretative spaces each dancer had the chance of rendering the musical statement in her own way. By far the best I have seen of a varnam in group format with not a moment of déjà vu.
What this critic found disappointing was rasa through ‘Katha’ presented as a solo narrative by Geeta. After a description of the lotus-eyed Lord in the recumbent Padmanabha position, the scenes of “Kamsa vinasha”, etc. by the divine flute player whose music attracts even the fish who dive to the surface of the waters, while set in ragas like Arabhi, and Varali, finishing in Madhyamavati with jatis of Ayyappan, seemed much like the varnam: very episodic. While dealing with rasa in different situations, one would have liked the internalised rasa of a padam or javali from Geeta.
The solo finale homage after the group rendition of the Tillana, “Bhuvaneswara” by Tagore (sung on tape by O.S. Arun, though not announced) thematically fitting, did not sound Bengali.
Committed and confident
It has been a while since one has come across exceptional young talent in Kuchipudi. Dancing at the Triveni auditorium, Lakshmi Reddy, a disciple of Jaya Rama Rao and Vanashree Rao, surprised in the way she has matured as an artist. Watching her performing in group productions, one had not noticed any out-of-the-way talent. Obviously very committed, Lakshmi now seems to have come into her own, dancing with a confidence and élan, making her own statement through the art form. Right from the starting kirtanam “Sringara Lahari” in raga Neelambari, Guru Rama Rao’s choreography using the Devi slokam “Sindhooraruna vigrahaam, trinayanaam....Dhyaye paraam Ambikaam” to establish the identity of the Devi, the dancer’s involvement in creating the feel of the Goddess as the embodiment of Sringar was evident.
Bringing to the fore the dramatic contrasts of the frog princess who becomes the beauteous Mandodari and the manly Ravan who covets her and carries her off to Lanka as his bride, Manduka Sabdam saw the dancer in full abhinaya play. Full of grace, and with a fine grasp over tala, Lakshmi is the complete dancer. Capturing the romance of Rasila through the composition of Swati Tirunal’s “Aaj aye Shyam Mohan” in Shuddha Sarang, an elaboration woven into the choreography visualised the game of dice where Yudhishthira staked and lost everything from kingdom and brothers to wife, with Krishna coming to Draupadi’s rescue to save her honour. Lakshmi‘s subtle mukhabhinaya brought out all the characters and their varying responses to the episode.
But the best of the dancer’s interpretative skills came in the javali in Kalyani, “Entati Kuluke” where the khandita, a woman experienced in the ways of love, expresses her disapproval to her friend, of “that roué of a man” going about boasting and gossiping about his intimacy with her. The abhinaya situation expressing boorish behaviour in a man, by a woman who has been intimate with him, is complicated — and Lakshmi’s ability to catch both the man’s strutting cocky ways and the nayika’s by no means inexperienced life revealed rare understanding of abhinaya. Tarangam in Hamsadhwani, built round the image of Devi Durge with the rhythm on the brass plate, and the Adana daru from Satyabhama Kalapam, showing the heroine as virahotkanthita blaming Madana for his flowered darts, were also impeccably rendered.
Venkatesh’s singing, Jaya Rama Rao’s nattuvangam and Tanjavur Keshavan’s mridangam with Rajat Prasanna on the flute provided excellent accompaniment.
