God’s own epic
By Shanta Gokhale
Ninsasam Tirugata’s play Kaladugeya Kathe, presented by Tata Trusts on the first day of Kalapana, a festival of theatre, music, dance and crafts, swept us into the exciting social-culturalpolitical times of 15 centuries or more ago, when philosophical debates and religious transitions kept the sub-continent intellectually alive. Whether the text on which the play was based was written in the 2nd , 5th or 6th century CE, the long journey it had made to the manicured lawns of the magnificent Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya where we saw it, filled one with awe.
Let us begin at the beginning. Sometime between the 2nd and 6th centuries CE, a Jain poet-prince from today’s Kerala, compiled Silapattikaram (the tale of the anklet) under the pseudonym Ilango Adigal. This narrative of 5,270 lines in verse and prose was hailed by literary scholars later as one of the five great epics of Tamil literature. In the early 20th century, the Tamil scholar, U V Swaminatha Iyer, resurrected the tragically neglected, almost destroyed palm-leaf manuscript of the text and transferred it to paper in a cleaned up, annotated edition for use by future scholars. A century later, the eminent Kannada poet-playwright H S Shivaprakash, professor at the School of Arts and Aesthetics, Jawaharlal Nehru University, wrote three plays based on the epic. Meanwhile in a small village called Heggodu in Sagar Taluk of Shivamogga district in Karnataka, a well-to-do areca farmer, K V Subbanna, had started a cultural hub called Ninasam of which the Ninasam Theatre Institute established in 1980 became an arm. In 1985 a repertory, Tirugata (itinerant) was formed to enable alumni to do theatre on a regular basis. Since then, Tirugata has been producing two new plays a year, one classical and one modern, one in Kannada and one translated from some other Indian language. The repertory travels with the plays for a year across the length and breadth of rural Karnataka, performing in informal spaces like village squares and school halls. Over the years Tirugata must have developed the most theatrically literate rural audience in all of India. This year Tirugata’s Kannada offering, Kaladugeya Kathe, directed by Venkataramana Aithal, amalgamates Shivaprakash’s three plays, thus marking its own place on this journey.
The story is about Kovala, a rich merchant’s son who marries Kannagi a rich merchant’s daughter. They are happy until Kovala’s eyes fall on Madhavi, the daughter of a courtesan. Besotted by her beauty, he abandons Kannagi to live with her. A line in a song that Madhavi happens to sing for him, reminds him of his duty towards Kannagi and he returns to her. Having used up all his resources, Kovala asks Kannagi for one of the pair of anklets her mother has given her, hoping to sell it in the market at Madurai. In Madurai, the royal goldsmith who has stolen the queen’s anklet, frames him and hauls him before the king who orders his beheading. A raging Kannagi storms into his court and curses him and his kingdom for the injustice he has done. The play ends on a spiritual note with Kannagi and Madhavi setting off on an inner journey and Manimekalai, Kovala and Madhavi’s daughter, becoming a Buddhist nun. The syncretism so evident in the religio-cultural history of the sub-continent, raises several questions about how we look at our past today.
But why am I writing about history and not about the play? Because, much as I would have liked to applaud our visitors from Heggodu, a place that I have grown fond of for its magnificent obsession with culture, Kaladugeya Kathe was not one of Tirugata’s best productions. Energetically and sincerely performed though it was, the actors lacked the high order of singing and dancing skills that such a play demands. Above all and most crucially for us, the play in which poetry was the backbone, was let down by poorly translated, jumpily projected subtitles. What made up for the flaws, however, was Kannagi’s fiery speech in the court denouncing the king for her husband’s unjust murder. I would raise three cheers for that alone.
Ninsasam Tirugata’s play Kaladugeya Kathe, presented by Tata Trusts on the first day of Kalapana, a festival of theatre, music, dance and crafts, swept us into the exciting social-culturalpolitical times of 15 centuries or more ago, when philosophical debates and religious transitions kept the sub-continent intellectually alive. Whether the text on which the play was based was written in the 2nd , 5th or 6th century CE, the long journey it had made to the manicured lawns of the magnificent Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya where we saw it, filled one with awe.
Let us begin at the beginning. Sometime between the 2nd and 6th centuries CE, a Jain poet-prince from today’s Kerala, compiled Silapattikaram (the tale of the anklet) under the pseudonym Ilango Adigal. This narrative of 5,270 lines in verse and prose was hailed by literary scholars later as one of the five great epics of Tamil literature. In the early 20th century, the Tamil scholar, U V Swaminatha Iyer, resurrected the tragically neglected, almost destroyed palm-leaf manuscript of the text and transferred it to paper in a cleaned up, annotated edition for use by future scholars. A century later, the eminent Kannada poet-playwright H S Shivaprakash, professor at the School of Arts and Aesthetics, Jawaharlal Nehru University, wrote three plays based on the epic. Meanwhile in a small village called Heggodu in Sagar Taluk of Shivamogga district in Karnataka, a well-to-do areca farmer, K V Subbanna, had started a cultural hub called Ninasam of which the Ninasam Theatre Institute established in 1980 became an arm. In 1985 a repertory, Tirugata (itinerant) was formed to enable alumni to do theatre on a regular basis. Since then, Tirugata has been producing two new plays a year, one classical and one modern, one in Kannada and one translated from some other Indian language. The repertory travels with the plays for a year across the length and breadth of rural Karnataka, performing in informal spaces like village squares and school halls. Over the years Tirugata must have developed the most theatrically literate rural audience in all of India. This year Tirugata’s Kannada offering, Kaladugeya Kathe, directed by Venkataramana Aithal, amalgamates Shivaprakash’s three plays, thus marking its own place on this journey.
The play is performed in traditional style. A sutradhara and nati lead the invocation, introduce the play and its protagonists whose entries are covered by the theerasila (half-curtain), and then join the actors as participants in the play. The invocation which is addressed to Shiva and Gautama, draws attention to the fact that India was not predominantly Hindu back then. Jainism and Buddhism were very much in the ascendant.
The story is about Kovala, a rich merchant’s son who marries Kannagi a rich merchant’s daughter. They are happy until Kovala’s eyes fall on Madhavi, the daughter of a courtesan. Besotted by her beauty, he abandons Kannagi to live with her. A line in a song that Madhavi happens to sing for him, reminds him of his duty towards Kannagi and he returns to her. Having used up all his resources, Kovala asks Kannagi for one of the pair of anklets her mother has given her, hoping to sell it in the market at Madurai. In Madurai, the royal goldsmith who has stolen the queen’s anklet, frames him and hauls him before the king who orders his beheading. A raging Kannagi storms into his court and curses him and his kingdom for the injustice he has done. The play ends on a spiritual note with Kannagi and Madhavi setting off on an inner journey and Manimekalai, Kovala and Madhavi’s daughter, becoming a Buddhist nun. The syncretism so evident in the religio-cultural history of the sub-continent, raises several questions about how we look at our past today.
But why am I writing about history and not about the play? Because, much as I would have liked to applaud our visitors from Heggodu, a place that I have grown fond of for its magnificent obsession with culture, Kaladugeya Kathe was not one of Tirugata’s best productions. Energetically and sincerely performed though it was, the actors lacked the high order of singing and dancing skills that such a play demands. Above all and most crucially for us, the play in which poetry was the backbone, was let down by poorly translated, jumpily projected subtitles. What made up for the flaws, however, was Kannagi’s fiery speech in the court denouncing the king for her husband’s unjust murder. I would raise three cheers for that alone.
Disclaimer: The views expressed here are the author's own. The opinions and facts expressed here do not reflect the views of Mirror and Mirror does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.
