T o state that Leela Samson’s latest work ‘Nadi’ presented by Spanda her dance group, mesmerised the audience with its nuanced poetic sensibility, would not be hyperbole. Poetry of any age and civilization has been inspired by the flowing river, her many moods making an ideal metaphor for life . An abstract work with no comforting narrative to cling to, ‘Nadi’ is a unique production, from the selection of the songs and verses by Leela, to the evocative music by Rajkumar Bharati, aided by Sai Shravanam’s excellent recording and music mixing, and its visualisation as a group work rendered by excellently groomed dancers. .
The music posed several challenges. A confluence of poetry in as many as six languages, each with its own gait and cadence, had to be set in a manner enabling movement in the Bharatanatyam technique. Impeccable diction was demanded from the singers . Rising to the occasion and singing in the opening sequence a Bengali song by Rabindranath Tagore — as to the manner born — was Keertana Vaidyanathan. ‘Ogo Nadi’ (Oh, you nadi) says the Champa tree to the flowing river comparing its own anchored presence, with the restlessness of the river . At one stage the tree was like the forlorn nayika left alone by the skittish beloved. As formations comprising three female dancers positioned on one side of the performance area, became the grounded tree with its gently swaying branches, male dancers with their vaulting, springy leaps covering stage space in large strides, caught the spirit of the ever-moving river. The next scene ‘Vaigai’, of Tamil Paripadal verses from Sangam poetry with Tamil scholar Prof. Raghuraman’s inputs in unravelling its intricacies, was rendered in the typical metre of the poetry, by singer Anantanarayan.
‘Sundar Sari’ was rendered in the thumri ang in Misra Kafi and what a perspicacious move to get singer Sharmishta Chatterjee who caught the typical thumri flavour in her bhava-soaked singing Vidya Rao provided deeper insights into the philosophy of the song. ‘Sundar Sari’ implies the unstitched saree representing the Cosmic Self compared with the Ganga stretching like an unstitched endless garment. The mortal physical body has to answer for the deeds in this world when it crosses over to the other world. The nayika in the thumri leaving the maika (mother’s home) is nervous about entering the other home after marriage. Leela Samson’s solo interpretation of the thumri was moving, with the persona of the dancer totally erased in the immediacy of the mood evoked.
The Muthuswamy Dikshitar keertanam in Jhanjhoti set to Khanda Eka tala (sung by Srikanth) showed the descent of Ganga, her fiercely independent nature and pride disciplined and contained in Shiva’s Locks. Flavours of Varanasi and scenes of life from birth to death were caught in vignettes. It concluded with the evening aarti when myriad lighted lamps are offered to the river with the bells and gongs ringing.
The Kannada verses taken from Girish Karnad’s ‘Hayavadana’, changed from the original theatre version composed by Karanth into a Kannada folk song in Akhila, was sung by Srikanth. “Neerina mele chitra kettalikka aago dilla” (You cannot draw a picture on water)... the ever-flowing river has no memory, living always in the eternal present.
The Urdu verses ‘Kinare Kinari’ was rendered in soul-stirring Yaman. It was interwoven with passages of a tillana in Kalyani, composed by Rajkumar Bharti, with a Tamil verse offering prayers also coming in. The switch from one to the other was beautifully done.
Leela’s approach to group movement is distinctive. Not set in straight lines or diagonals, her arrangements have a cluster of dancers all moving with a shared single purpose — the total picture, carrying spaces within it for individualised expression. Abstract themes can be discomforting and all credit to the cast for translating the poetry into visual imagery. And the final bow with the dancers coming in singles, pairs or even threes to one line of each of the songs, made for a innovative curtain call.
