If the 1930s and ’40s were a time for the intellectuals and thinkers of India to rediscover the classical dance forms nurtured on this vast subcontinent, the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s saw a glorious consolidation and celebration of this interest. Gurus of the arts were revered, girls from ‘good’ middle-class families were increasingly allowed to train in dance forms of their choice, and a number of outstanding exponents toured the world as representatives of their genre (often two or even three, performed over the course of one evening with suitable commentary and costume changes).
Then came the 1980s and ’90s, with whiffs of experimental thought. Exchanges between dancers of different genres raised fewer and fewer eyebrows. Bharatanatyam dancers could team up with their Odissi counterparts for example, and with Kathak you had a trio, or ‘tridhara’ as the term became popular. Meanwhile, Kathak found kinship with Flamenco. These are examples of just some of the common instances of expansion of boundaries that dancers tried out as classical dance as a profession became part of modern India’s mainstream.
As the 20th Century rolled into the 21st, we almost didn’t have time to celebrate everybody’s owning their own telephone, so fast did technology move with the coming of the first computers. As for its effect on classical dancers as a subset of the entire population, it’s not just that fixing rehearsals, sending messages, recording music and creating publicity material became much easier; it also changed the concept of collaborations.
Delhi saw an example of one such collaboration the other day when Ranjana Gauhar presented the dance drama “Nal-Damyanti” featuring a number of young dancers. The timeless tale of King Nal and his faithful wife Damayanti whose sufferings start when Nala loses his kingdom in a game of dice is related in the “Mahabharat”. The innovative aspect of the production was not so much that Odissi dancers trained by her danced alongside Chhau dancers under Rakesh Sai Babu, but that the entire presentation was designed as “an animated movie that comes alive with…live action and dance sequences.”
While the graceful undulating movements of Mayurbhanj Chhau blend organically with those of Odissi, the crux of the collaboration here was the three-dimensional with the two-dimensional, live choreography with computer design.
While the concept, creative direction and Odissi choreography were Ranjana’s, her main collaborator was her son Sidharth Daniels, who provided multi-media visualisation and direction besides writing the script. The holistic approach to the stage production was laudable, and not surprising given Ranjana’s worthy experience of working in theatre and documentary filmmaking. The dancers were in good sync, the Chhau choreography by Rakesh Sai Babu held well with the Odissi, and the movement flowed easily across the large stage of Kamani auditorium.
Apropos that large stage, there was one noticeable disadvantage. The visuals designed as backdrop, such as pillars of the palace, forest scenes, as well as the animated characters – who ‘interacted’ with the dancers – had the effect of dwarfing the live action. Projected on the huge cyclorama, all of them, from demons and gods to royal messengers, rivers to sculpted pillars, appeared uniformly giant-sized. Therefore the dialogues (on the recorded soundtrack, with voiceovers by Averey Chaurey, Purnendu Bhattacharya and Shomik Ray) between the live and the animated personages did not give the impression of a seamless coming together of genres. Similarly, the palace pillars had the effect of making the protagonists look lost in a huge architectural expanse.
Stories from the ancient Indian scriptures (or myths from any culture for that matter) proceed on a fairly serious note. Their out-of-the-ordinary aspects, such as humans interacting with the gods, being accosted by creatures with several heads, arms and legs, or performing superhuman actions of valour are recounted with a certain acceptance, so that the stress of the story is on the moral arguments rather than the surreal features. Here, the sheer visual contrast of the human endeavour with the animation technology underlined rather than diminished the gap between the two. However, if the aim was indeed to play on this contrast, a decision that is the prerogative of any artist, then one would suggest an overhauling of the script to reflect this thought.
Sidharth’s script, as it stands, stresses the moral line. In fact the production was introduced as underlining “the social message of overcoming temptation which leads to misery.” Therefore one could not but remember the many animated versions of mythology on the lines of “Amar Chitra Katha” and its offshoots. As a stage show, this went one step further, but the concept certainly had the potential to go a few more.
A senior dancer like Ranjana Gauhar bringing together a large group of young artists from different fields and freely exchanging with them to develop her seed concept was refreshing. It was also notable that though a regular performer, she did not take a role in the show and presented her senior student Vrindha Chaddha as Damyanti, while the young Rakesh Sai Babu played Nal.
Thus it would be interesting to see how the different individuals in this partnership take their explorations further and perhaps find a new narrative voice that matches their technological and dancing prowess.
The lilting music composition was by the renowned Bankim Sethi. The light design was by Sandeep Dutta, who was also the technical director for the complex production.
