Raga Sudha Hall looks very different from how it looked a month ago, when it hosted the Margazhi kutcheris . It feels more intimate, with a large mat replacing the first eight rows of chairs. Artwork by the Olcott school children adorns the walls.
The Urur-Olcott Kuppam Vizha begins with a performance by vocalist Adithyanarayanan Shankar, dressed in a veshti and kurta. He presents Thyagaraja’s ‘Rama Nannu Brovara’ as the invocation piece. “The festival brings all art forms to a single stage. It shows that no one interpretation of art is greater than the other,” Adithyanarayanan says.
Jaya Balakrishnan, convenor at Raga Sudha Hall, says, “T.M. Krishna chose our venue, possibly because the crowd that attends our programmes are Carnatic music aficionados. This way, we get to give them something new to experience and learn about.”
Marana Gana Viji of ‘Danga Maari Oodhari’ fame is next. He explains the art of gaana. “For us, there is no such thing as sruthi , raga, or layam . We simply sing the songs of our land.” A gaana singer since age seven, Viji started his journey from the sands of Marina. “ Gaana is my life, my identity,” he says with pride.
Next, it’s time for the silambattam performers to hypnotise us with their moves. Steel swords clash and bamboo sticks twirl in perfect synchronisation. Led by their guru Power Pandian Aasan, the artistes’ perfect movements are similar to a well-choreographed Bharatanatyam jathi .
“It’s a collaborative effort,” says volunteer Sharadha Shankar. “We have round-table discussions all year round, putting together programmes and brainstorming on how we can improve each time. Yet, it’s always a pleasure to be able to break those artistic boundaries and question the framework.”
Jogappas, a transgender group hailing from Karnataka and Maharashtra, presents a performance on the second day. They sing in praise of Goddess Yellamma. The raw energy of their voices captures both pain and beauty.
They have toured with T.M. Krishna extensively prior to their debut in Chennai. “We practised for two days for this, but many of the songs we sang have been performed before,” says Lakshmiji, a jogappa performer. When we ask them how they felt performing in this space, Raakhi, one of the performers, asks: “Did you like it? If you enjoyed it, then we are happy.”
The mood gets upbeat with the paraiattam dancers’ arrival. Their energetic footwork keeps pace with the drum beats. The performers are mostly college students, working in centres for child development during their time off. “We began learning paraiattam during our school holidays. Now, we’ve formed a team and perform for all occasions,” says Deepan, a dancer.
Soon, the audience also joins them and dances along. “We have performed in spaces such as these, and, for us, each space has its own amazing feel,” says Rajan, another performer.
“The Vizha is meant to equalise art forms and the spaces in which they are presented,” says environmental activist Nityanand Jayaraman. The positive reaction is something he expected all along. “Inherently, music and creative art have a way of opening even the most conservative of minds. The Vizha is the perfect mix: 100% entertainment and 100% activism, open to all.”
