Art Ichol Journal - 4th Volume - Performing Art - Natyam by Gallery Sanskriti

a creativ e esc ap e JOURNAL VOLUME FOUR MMXVII - XVIII

stone metal ceramic graphic fine art

Consulting Editor, Concept & Theme: Dr. Alka Pande Executive Editor: Dr. Arshiya Sethi Copy Editor: Bhavana Sabherwal Journal Design & Concept: Sonja Coates Cover: Performance of Shashwati Garai Ghosh at Art Ichol Cover Photo credit : Art Ichol Gallery Support : Goutam Mukherjee

Printed and published by: Ambica Beri for Art Ichol Village Ichol (Khajuraho-Bandhavgarh Highway) Maihar - 485771, Madhya Pradesh www.artichol.in | info@artichol.in +91 98 18 406162 An initiative of Gallery Sanskriti, Kolkata www.gallerysanskriti.com | info@gallerysanskriti.com +91 98 31 009278 Printed at PIXCEL India, Kolkata info.pixcel@gmail.com | +91 98 30 586747 ART ICHOL 2018

Contents Director’s Note | Ambica Beri

Natyam of the Chitrasutra | Dr. Alka Pande

The Guest Editor’s take | Dr. Arshiya Sethi

The Many Ways of Communicating Natyam: A Shastric Perspective | Prof. Bharat Gupt

Natyam while painting the emotional landscape of Katha The Story | Lakshmi Vishwanathan

The Bhava & Rasa of Sangeet: The case of Hindustani Sangeet | Prof. Rita Ganguly

Natyam in the Representation of the Sahityam of our Times | Shovana Narayan

The Essentiality of Abhyas in Natyam | Navtej Johar

The Natyam that must be done: Plastic arts and performance that responds to our times | Sunil Mehra

Why the Indian Artiste of ‘Natyam’ cannot think it is “Performance as usual” | Dr. Arshiya Sethi

Calendar of Events & Exhibitions

Awards

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Director’s Note Ambica Beri

The year galloped past with frenetic activity, trying to meet deadlines, as in the case of Satish Gupta’s ceramic and metal Buddha installation, being put together during his frequent visits through the year. Where on the one hand, we were trying to complete Jacques Kaufmann’s Brick temple, in time for the scheduled opening in December, the mud hut designed by Australian architect Clare Elizabeth Kennedy was also taking shape with traditional methods and local material, making it a year focused on architectural and spatial activity at the centre. A multidisciplinary residency, New Grammar, curated by Rahul Kumar set the pace for this year’s group residencies. Katharina Poggendorf-Kakar brought together a multinational, dynamic and diverse group based on the theme Migration, in yet another landmark residency. We are also attracting international artists who engage with the local community and promote sharing and exchange of skills and traditions. This year we welcomed Holly O’Meehan from Australia, Chloe Monks from the UK and Satoru Hoshino from Japan, who was preparing for the Indian Ceramics Triennale, Breaking Ground 2018, in Jaipur. Our anniversary this year celebrated the inauguration of Satish Gupta’s magnificent installation based on the three elements, water, fire and earth. Young and graceful dancer Anamika Singh took the presentation to another level of pomp and pageantry. The production was ably assisted by artists and technicians, Ron 4

curation have raised the bar for future productions. I am also grateful to Dr. Arshiya Sethi for agreeing to be the guest editor for Natyam; we could not have hoped for a more sensitive editor. Having spent time at Art Ichol earlier, her contribution is relevant and meaningful. As always, my special thanks to Bhavana Sabherwal for being by my side.

Hjertstedt, Partha Dasgupta, Ashish and Mausam, and did wonders to their confidence. The year ended on a high note with getting the children of Ichol village to plant trees, thus giving them a sense of ownership in their own region. I feel gratified that the purpose of the centre is coming to fruition, also through the benevolent acts of our esteemed artists. I am indebted to Paresh Maity for supporting our resident artist Ramesh Chandraâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s residency in Australia this year. He is also working on the largest installation at the centre, which we hope to see complete by the end of the year.

Even as â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Natyamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; announces the curtain call for the trilogy of journals - Drishyam, Vaakyam, Natyam, based on a theme, it propels us to a higher ground in our endeavour to document meaningful thoughts and voices.

In a short span of three years Art Ichol has spread its wings both locally and globally. I had the proud privilege of meeting our Honourable PM, Shri Narendra Modi, kind courtesy Shri Ganesh Singh, MP Satna, and presenting him with a pin sculpture made by the gifted Nantu Behari Das. I am also filled with gratitude and humility at receiving the highest civilian honour accorded to a woman in India, for the work being done here - the Nari Shakti Award. It was an honour to receive the same from the President of India, Shri Ram Nath Kovind at an awards ceremony at Rashtrapati Bhawan. I felt at once, privileged and humbled to have met so many dynamic and exceptionally inspiring women. It only drove me closer to my mission of bridging the gap between artist professionals and the community, in a bid to sensitise and empower them. I express my sincere gratitude to Dr. Alka Pande, our consulting editor, for conceptualising and accomplishing the task of meticulously seeing the journals through. The Trilogy is her concept and theme, and the high standards of

Ambica Beri is the founding director of Art Ichol and Gallery Sanskriti. A textile designer by training, she chose to follow her passion and nurture art and artists, through her gallery and other establishments. She now creates on an altogether different plane. Ambica was recently awarded the Nari Shakti Award - the highest civilian honour for a woman in India, for her work at Art Ichol.

Chandi’s escape “Chandian” by Mully Dowada. 1450-75, Bharat Kala Bhavan, Hindu University, Benares, Varanasi.

Natyam of the Chitrasutra Dr. Alka Pande

One who does not know the laws of painting (Chitra) can never understand the laws of image-making (Shilpa); and it is difficult to understand the laws of painting (Chitra) without any knowledge of the technique of dancing (Nrtya); and, that, in turn, is difficult to understand without a thorough knowledge of the laws of instrumental music (Vadya); but, the laws of instrumental music cannot be learnt without a deep knowledge of the art of vocal music (Gana). - Chitrasutra from the Vishnudharmottara Purana The interdisciplinary aspect of the arts is an integral component of Indian aesthetics. While the occidental discourse is leaning more towards the multi-disciplinary aspect in academia, within the Indian cultural context the close relationship of the plastic and performing arts has always been embedded in the mother of all texts of aesthetics, the Natyashastra. Ascribed to the 4th century, Natyashastra is one of the most studied texts of dramaturgy which spans its influence over dance, music and even visual arts, lays down one of the most important tenets of the appreciation of traditional Indian arts through the canons of the Rasa theory. The most widely accepted view says that the Natyashastra consists of approximated 6000 poetic verses which is divided into 36 chapters. In many ways the Natyashastra also known as the Natyaveda or the fifth Veda laid the foundations on which artists built their craft. The text starts with the mythical genesis and history of drama, the importance of different Hindu gods and goddesses who had a special affinity with singular aspects of the arts. From the Natyashastra emerged the theory of Rasa which in some ways became the backbone of Saundarya Shastra which translates into Indian aesthetics. The Rasa theory leads into bhava or expression, gestures, acting techniques.

Different chapters of the Natyashastra are specific to different aspects of performance. And it is for this reason that I wanted to re look and re visit the canons of Indic wisdom, something which I find not only energizing but also helps in developing vectors of new knowledge. Drawing from the roots of Indian Aesthetics the Natyashastra this final trilogy of the Journal of ideas published by Art Ichol is focused on Natyam, a term drawn from the Natyashastra, where dance consists of pure dance, nritya/dance and expression, and natya/drama. The first journal Drishyam was on ways of seeing. John Berger in his iconic publication ‘ways of seeing’ stated that in visual arts the eye or optics play a vital role not just in viewing. The second Journal Vaakyam was based on the concept of ‘vak’ from the Devi Suktam where text and image was explored and the interconnectedness between the two was explored. The third journal is dedicated to the ‘Natyam’ where the physical space of the theatre becomes a micro model of the cosmos, each deity as a demarcated space, the cardinal directions are identified and at the center the brahma mandala is established. In some ways theatre and performance becomes yet another key which unlocks yet another door to the understanding of Indian arts and aesthetics. According to Bharat so there is no knowledge, crafts, science, art, yoga that does not work in drama.

A view of dance mudra postures at the Nataraja Shiva Temple at Chidambaram, Tamil Nadu Nasiruddin. Varati Ragini folio from the Chawand Ragamala series, Chawand, Rajasthan, 1605, Museum Rietberg, Zurich

Salabhanjika in the Chennakesava temple, Belur

Sattriya dance by Ramkrishna Talukdar

Arjuna and His Charioteer Krishna Confront Karna

Balarama, Subhadra and Jagannath in the temple at Puri, with many human and sacred figures, buildings and animals. Oil painting by a painter of Puri, Orissa, ca. 1880/1910.

Kapila Vatsyayan in her reading of the Natyashastra says â&#x20AC;&#x153;The debt of Indian sculpture (shilpa) and chitra (painting) is at another level. We know that Bharata had not only analyzed all parts of the body, but had also categorized both position and movement.â&#x20AC;?

Since Art Ichol is a community based center where there is an amalgamation of the traditional, vernacular, fine art, craft, design, and fine art practice and visual culture, the concept of Natyam is a perfect fit. Inviting Arshiya Sethi to be the Guest editor for this issue was most appropriate for Arshiya is a dancerscholar who has written and researched extensively on dance and performing arts. Arshiya and I collaborated on the idea and post the discussions, Arshiya intelligently and sensitively translated the concept of Natyam into a holistic ragamalika (a garland of ragas) of diverse voices. Natyam epitomizes the diverse cultural practices which make up the rich plural culture of the land. She concludes the journal with a powerful essay contesting the role and space of the arts in India.

Thus Natya / Natyam encompasses dance, music, theatre and performance which is all very much part of the trajectory of Indian art. A traditional Indian artist could be a poet, painter, sculptor, architect, or a combination of one or all. Traditional Sanskrit theatre perhaps is closest example of the interpretation of the Natyashastra. From scenography to music, from painting the sets to costume designing (aharya) aspects of what contemporary disciplines of performance art entail can in some ways find a resonance in the reading of the 36 chapters of the Natya Shastra.

Lakshmana Meets with Tara, Sugriva, and Hanuman in the Palace of Kishkindha, Folio from a Ramayana (Adventures of Rama) LACMA

Passionately involved with art for nearly three and a half decades, academician and curator, Dr. Alka Pande is the Consultant Arts Advisor and Curator for the Visual Arts Gallery, India Habitat Centre. Pande with two degrees, in History of Art and History, did her PhD on an aspect of Shiva - Indian Sculpture. As a result of the Charles Wallace India Trust Award she turned her doctoral work into a book exploring the cultural metaphor. As a result of her post doctoral stint at Goldsmiths College, University of London, she wrote Ardhanarisvara - the Androgyne : Probing the Gender Within. Pande has set up the Sculpture Gallery, at the Udaipur City Palace Museum, curated

the

Bikaner Museum and is presently working on curating the Sculptural Park at Sanchi in Photo credit : Sandeep TK

Madhya Pradesh.

The Guest Editor’s take Dr. Arshiya Sethi

I was in distant Minneapolis, where I had been for my PostDoctoral Fulbright year, cut away from home, all things familiar and friends, when I was handpicked to guest edit this edition of the trilogy of ‘Drishyam’, ‘Vakyam’ and ‘Natyam’, conceived by the much respected scholar curator, Dr. Alka Pande. Dr. Pande’s faith in me and Art Ichol founder Ambica Beri’s enthusiastic email, made me pick up the opportunity without a moment’s hesitation. Despite the challenges of doing it on line, being away from India for most of this period, I have enjoyed every minute of the process. If you have this journal in your hand and plan on reading it, let me assure you that what lies before you is a rich repast of knowledge, thoughts, and opinions, on the concept of Natyam, written by a robust mix of both, consummate practitioners and profound scholars of the rainbow spectrum of Natyam. The sweep of ideas begins by linking Natyam to the other foci of Drishyam and Vakyam. In her perceptive opening essay, brief in length but sharp in its focus, Dr. Pande refers to the cartography of natyam where the physical space of the theatre becomes a micro model of the cosmos. With each deity having a demarcated space, at the center of the cardinal directions lies the ‘brahma mandala’, directing the mind as if to a ‘dhyan padam’, a totem for the mind. In subtle ways she argues that theatre and performance becomes yet another key to unlocking the door to the understanding of Indian arts and aesthetics, which have fascinated scholars, both Indian and international. Referring to the ‘Chitrasutra’ from the ancient Vishnudharmottar Puran, she makes a cogent argument for the interrelatedness of the arts and the comprehensiveness of the artist - creators of Natyam, for a traditional Indian artist could simultaneously be a poet, painter, sculptor, architect, or a combination of one, 12

some or all. This provides the rationale for her vision of the trilogy of journals of which this as the finale of the triptych, creates a segue into the wisdom of the Natyashastra in which, disparate aspects of natyam, from scenography to music, from architectural layouts to painting of the sets, and even including costume designing (aharya), all find a resonance and reflection in its 36 chapters. Yet there is no one Natya, as Natyam epitomizes the diverse performance practices which make up the richly plural culture of the land. Scholar Prof. Bharat Gupt, in his philosophically and historically situated piece “The many ways of communicating Natyam: A Shastric Perspective”, argues for the multiple agendas of Natyam including fostering responsible citizenship. Responsibility, as reflected in self-regulation, underlies one of the cardinal principles of natya, to refrain from depicting any such activity on the stage that may cause agitation among the audience. Thus, only refined reflections of emotions and none of the realistically gruesome violence as seen on television and cinema today, found place in it. Gupt argues that theatre in India declined as it interfaced with Islam which considered it ‘haraam’, but got a reprieve in the countryside, where it was patronized in the Hindu ‘ashramas’. This held particularly true of the performative impulses of the new genres of religious theatre that developed as part of Vaishanavabhakti. RaasaLiilaa, Raamaattam, Krishnaattam, all examples of this sacred theatre of vaishanavbhakti, were countryside products. He draws our attention to the fact that while ancient plays used both secular and religious themes, medieval plays were almost entirely based on the divine play or liilaa of Rama or Krishna, accounting in a way, to the shrinking of Natya from a fullfledged, frequent ensemble performance, to only the ritual archanaa (devotional worship) by the single temple dancer (devadasi), that too before the deity and not a live audience. The immediate impact he claims was to the detriment of dialogue (paathya), which was localised and diluted in dramatic dazzle, 13

thereby disturbing the subtle balance between the gestural (angikaabhinaya) and the spoken (vaachika). Subsequently, even though modern theatre repositioned the cities to the centre of the universe of drama, he regrets that the hiatus between modern urban and traditional rural theatres, seems unbridgeable. Eminent dancer Lakshmi Vishwanathan, in her piece “Natyam while Painting the Emotional Landscape of Katha” draws on long years of dancing, and the birth dividend of being born in an artistic family hailing from a cultural hub of Thanjavur. She directs our attention to the “interior landscape” of emotions in the story-telling intrinsic to dance, and describes the reading, decoding and recreation of this interior landscape, in the stories told by her in dance, as a natural part of her “in-ness”, virtually a product of the intuition and insight of an artist like her, that hones the imagination to make things which are extraordinary, accessible, understandable and enjoyable. This detailing of the inner universe of classical Tamil love poetry, forms the essential runway of Bharatanatyam, inspiring the richness of her dance and allowing the one savouring its sentiment to relish and cherish it as a memory of artistic excellence. This process of embellishing one’s own artistry to lift the poem from the arena of the physical and sensual to the metaphysical, where ‘rasanubhava’ finds a home, she claims is a continuous one. In her essay on “The Bhava & Rasa of Sangeet: The case of Hindustani Sangeet”, Prof. Rita Ganguly reinforces that the eternal essence of the Indian performing arts, relevant even today, is creating a pathway towards their agenda of ‘Rasanishpati’ - the savouring of rasa. She qualifies that Rasa, the taste of aesthetic juice, is exclusively experienced by the audience, while the performer uses her artistry to convey Bhavas. Rasa is the impact of Bhava, in the mind of the ‘Rasik’, the one who is ready to experience rasa. Taking help from the 14

analogy of cooking, in which the performer is the ‘patra’ or vessel, she recommends that to understand the methodology of creating the environment for ‘Rasanishpati’, she eloquently explains the relationship and expanse of the two terms of Rasa and Bhava, and why no performing art can ever enact rasa, which is experienced only by the audience. Once that happens, art transcends to ‘Anandam’- bliss-ensured through Padhyati, Raag, Bhav, and Rasanishpati. She effectively captures the contribution of the different forms of Hindustani music to satisfy varying emotional needs and the uniqueness in the Guru Shishya Parampara that feed this end. Dancer and author, Shovana Narayan looks at performativity in modern India’s literary output in the twentieth and twentyfirst centuries, including drama, fiction and poetry, that lend themselves to dramatic interpretations - the content of natyam. In her piece “Natyam in the Representation of Sahityam of our Times”, she describes that such interpretations, falling under the category of ‘Kanta Sammit Updesh’ (sermonising using music and dance - appealing to the heart), have been powerful mediums to reach the hearts of people. In an illustrative snapshot she suggests that the main purpose of such poetry, has been to contemplate another (an other?) point of view. From Tagore’s prolific output to “Rashmi Rathi” (1952) by “Rashtra Kavi” (national poet) Ramdhari Singh Dinkar and “AndhaYug” (1954) by Dharamvir Bharati, many of these writings are set against the backdrop of the epic tale of Mahabharata and are examples of contemporizing the Epics. Another theme that she discusses is that of Dance and the Dancer reflected by a clutch of literary works from “Shyama” (1936) by Tagore, to Mahesh Dattani’s play “Dance like a Man”. While classical dance styles have included contemporary literature for delineation through dance, several dancers have also used a mixed medium of dance styles to create a new language of expression to communicate the thoughts of contemporary literature. Narayan argues that contemporizing, in terms of 15

literary content and in stage interpretations, act as barometers of changing ideas and changing times. After all, performing arts are a reflection of changing times. In “The Natyam that must be done: Performance that responds to our times,” journalist, author and performer Sunil Mehra writes a deeply political piece in response to changed and contested times. Referring to recent developments which challenge syncretism and the open mindedness that valued “others - people and languages” as a doorway to beauty, into another world, another way of living and being, he references his personal journey in searching for answers to explain the illogic in a cultural attitude that sees a cow as Hindu and a goat as Muslim, where Hindi is Hindu and Urdu is Muslim, where to fall in line with the prevailing doctrine is “national”, and to express doubt/disagree, is to be “ anti national”. Alluding to his personal practice of Dastangoi as a powerful tool of challenging prevailing orthodoxies, through natyam, he describes the creation of dastans as a technique of braiding historical narrative, anecdote and memoir, that “speak with lacerating directness of the deviousness, the manipulation, the betrayal of the people by the State” he claims. This is not dissimilar to the Shakespearean joker who even as he entertained and regaled his audience, called out duplicity, and spoke truth to power. He admits that dark times still produce song and dance, but the songs are all about dark times! Dancer, choreographer and yoga practitioner Navtej Johar digs deep into his twin practices, of dance and yoga, which greatly influence and define each other, to come up with compelling nuggets that push thought, in his article “The Essentiality of Abhyas in Natyam”. In it he describes both his practices to be in the nature of self-reflexive ‘abhyasa’ that goes into the realm of self-discovery through intuitiveness and beyond the regimented and the prescribed. Johar recalls the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali that describe abhyasa as the very first proposition to attain the goal of yoga. However, he proposes it very tightly in conjunction with ‘vairagya’, or detachment, which he believes will facilitate the easing and opening of the gridlock formed by these oppositional forces. The twinning of abhyas and vairagya, involves the honing of that intuitive sense of “rightness” from within and so makes the art a self reflexive practice rather than as per a prescriptive paradigm. Since independence, however, argues Johar, Indian dance has been chauvinistically flaunted as the emblem of high-culture and national 16

pride, even though the history of Indian dance is steeped in cultural shame, driven by the British colonial rulers and bought totally by the Indians themselves. “The sacred became profane and we began to judge ourselves through eyes of a foreigner” bemoans Johar. Additionally, he believes that by pushing the bar towards perfection of body, we tend to lose ‘preeti’ or the loveliness inherent in our art. Finally he argues that by rejecting “the living practice and adopting the book as the definitive source of knowledge” we further prescribe our circle of action. The essays in the journal conclude with mine. Titled ‘Why the Indian Artiste of ‘Natyam’ cannot think it is “Performance as usual”, it questions the purpose of natya in our times and wonder how it has moved away so far from its intention of reflecting life and of showing a mirror to society. In provocative ways, using the literary texts that are part of the established cannons of natyam, it asks, with deep respect to the laws of dharma or righteousness, which have traditionally been the terrain of natyam, what is the eternal, essential and existential ‘dharma’ of an artiste, taking forward the responsible citizenship argument of Prof. Bharat Gupt. It also challenges the artiste that if they are to remain continuingly relevant to society at a global, local and human level, they need to be at the vanguard of the effort to redefine the role and space of the arts in India. This is critical, for as chanters and believers of the Shanti mantra, that powerfully reaches out to the cosmos, the universe and the inner universe, the artistes need to become the ‘Aavejak Avaaz’, a catalyst force, by pushing the transformational button of their art, such that in “dark times”, as Sunil Mehra calls now, natyam embraces both, what Narsingh Mehta called “peed parayee”, the pathos of human pain, and what Navtej Johar calls ‘preeti’. So for natyam, it cannot be business as usual! Thank you for your interest in the arts. May the journey together of ‘bhava patras’ and ‘rasikas’ be one of good to all. Arshiya Sethi

Essays Professor Bharat Gupt Lakshmi Vishwanathan Professor Rita Ganguly Shovana Narayan Navtej Johar Sunil Mehra Dr. Arshiya Sethi

The many ways of communicating Natyam: A Shastric Perspective Professor Bharat Gupt

Dance, music and theatre in India have been considered as sacred arts since most ancient times. They have also been regarded as morally uplifting, providing refined entertainment and enjoyment. They are meant to develop the personality of the artist and the art lover as a gracious and socially admirable citizen (naagarika). All Indian performing arts are covered by the generic term natya, which means communicating through body gestures, movements, words, signs, musical notes, costumes and stage properties. A very thorough theory of performance or natya was developed as early as 5th century BCE in the work of Bharata Muni called the Natyashastra. It has been the basis of music, dance, drama, literature and sculpture and allied arts. It has influenced the arts of China, East Asia, Japan and many other countries in the Far East in the ancient times, and in the modern age those of Europe and America.

Natyashastra, a Primary Text of Indian Performing Arts Ascribed to Bharata Muni, the Natyashastra is primarily a text for theatrical arts. But as dance, gestures, music, poetry, costume, masks and decoration are essential ingredients of theatre, the Natyashastra has been regarded as a fundamental text of all performing arts. Its ideas of emotional enjoyment (bhava-rasa), heroines (ashtanayikas) and exciting background (vibhavas) have influenced Indian sculpture, architecture, painting, folk poetry, dress and even the art of conversation. Natya is a very comprehensive word which covers the art of communication in theatre, music and dance as well. The root nat indicates acting of any formalized expression, while the word nata is used for the actor or communicator. The activity (karma) of the nata is called natya which may be done in a play or while singing or dancing. Because in the Indian tradition, music, dance and theatre overlap, the performative expression of all kinds can be called natya.

The Aim of Performing Arts The aim of natya is clearly spelt out in the Natyashastra of Bharata Muni. For the ancient Indian society, it was a sacred art. Natya per se was called the Fifth Veda as it made the esoteric knowledge in the four Vedas available to the masses. Natya, as theatre propagated the Vedic values or concepts, conventionally called as shruti-smriti, through the enactments of traditional myths and other popular stories. Originally, natya, so says the Natyashastra, was given to the gods by Brahma for the wellbeing of the world. 20

The opening invocation to a Bhaona-‘Gayan Bayan’ in a Naamghar in Assam. Photo credit : Sunny Lamba

Natya was believed also to be a therapeutically potent force for the emotional wellbeing of society, it was comforting to the aggrieved, promoting of spiritual or dharmic values, a tonic for mental alertness, and last but not least, an insurance for longevity.

A more accurate way of dating it is to examine the performance terminology it uses for acting, costume, music, dance, gesture and musical instruments and compare it with the terminology used for the same things in the Brahmanas, Valmiki’s Ramayana, the Puranas and the Smritis. This approach shows that the earliest versions of the Natyashastra existed as early as 5th century B.C.

As an art commenting on the world, natya was meant to be imitative of life as found in the seven continents of the world (saptadvipanukaranam), of its pleasures and sorrows, shown on the stage through the four methods of acting, namely the gestural (angika), the vocal (vacika), the subtly expressive (satvic) and the costuming (aharya). Aesthetically, the aim of natya was to provide to the audience the eight kinds of Rasas (aesthetic flavours) that were depicted on the stage in the ten genres of plays (dasarupakas) namely Nataka, Prakarana, Samavakara, Dima, Vyayoga, Ihamrga, Utsristikanka, Prahasana, Bhana and Vithi.

The Natyashastra knows musical instruments only of the harp variety, and has a musical theory based upon them alone. Hence we may conclude that it was formulated before the arrival of zithers which appear in sculpture around 300 B.C. But as it denotes music by the word “gandharva” or the science of Gandharvas who had no relation to music in the Vedic Samhitas and the Brahamanas, it must belong to a period well after the Brahamanas. The relationship of the Gandharvas with music begins with epics and Puranas. Valmiki has used so many technical terms of music (such as ‘shruti’, ‘sthaana’, ‘muurcchanaa’, ‘jaati,’ ‘sammuurcchanaa’, ‘angahaara’, ‘aatodya’ etc), following exactly the definitions given in the Natyashastra. As poets do not create technical terms but take them from Shastras, it is safe to presume that NS was compiled well after the Brahamanas but a little earlier than Valmiki’s Ramayana (5th to 4th Century B.C.). Natyashastra’s compiler, Bharata Muni was very likely a historical figure, not a line of persons or just an actor but a teacher who collected all the material of earlier teachers like Tumburu, Narada and Nandi and gave it a complete coherence.

One of the cardinal principles of natya or performance, as different from the trends and practices of our times, was not to show any such activity on the stage that may cause sexual sensation or agitation among the audience. Kissing, sexual acts, intimate embracing or even realistically gruesome violence as seen on television and cinema today, was to be avoided. A refined arousal of erotic, heroic, piteous and every other kind of emotions was the aim of natya. Besides theatre, natya or natana was also synonymous with dance expressive of the emotions of a character in a story or myth, as distinct from dance as only pleasing movement of the body, which are called nritta. For this reason, the Lord of Dance was also given the title of Nataraja.

Contents of Natyashastra describing a Multi Media Theatre The presently available Natyashastra text is based on the manuscript of the Abhinavabharati commentary of Abhinavagupta (11th century C.E.) of which a critical edition was prepared by R K Kavi and published from the Oriental Institute, Baroda and is referred to here under. It has thirty-six chapters of which major contents are as follows:

When was Natyashastra written? Attempts have been made to date the Natyashastra through linguistic analysis, possible Greek influence on Indian theatre. Scholarly opinion varies placing it anywhere from 2nd century B.C. to 6th century C.E. 22

Learning often happens in natural and pastoral settings Khosokha An early example of the preparation of the body of a performer, in a Vaishnav sattra of Assam. Photo credit : Avinash Pasricha

1. Origins of Natyaveda (science of performance, 1:1-5) called the fifth Veda to equate it in importance with other Vedas (1:6-14), and the concept of Anukarana or imitation (1:106-121) of life. 2. Theatre House: Three kinds of theatre buildings (2:7-10) and their ritual consecration (3:1-5) by the city and sponsor. 3. Purvaranga (preliminary performance) in nineteen parts enacted to please the gods and the audience (5:8-17). 4. Definition of eight Rasas (aesthetic tastes/flavours) (6:32-39), Bhavas (emotions), Vibhavas (actors/stage-sets) and Anubhavas or gestures (7: 1-8) as crucial elements of emotional experience in theatre. 5. Four kinds of Abhinayas or body and facial expressions (8:5-15); two kinds of Dharmis or theatrical representations (13:65-78); four kinds of Vrittis or modes of productions (20:62-66); two kinds of Siddhi (success) divine and secular (27:1-17); employment of Svara or pitch and notes in speech, song and enunciation (17:1-4, 24-47); Atodya or musical instruments (28: 1-12), Ganam or use of songs called Dhruvas inserted between dialogues for dramatic effect (32:314-323) and finally Ranga or theatre house. 6. Dasarupakas or the ten genres of plays namely Nataka, Prakarana, Samavakara, Dima, Vyayoga, Ihamrga, Utsristikanka, Prahasana, Bhana and Vithi and their characteristics (18:1-12, 95-105, 112-114). 7. Structure of the dramatic plot or Itivritta; Avasthas or the stages of action; Arthaprakritis or the nature of episodes; Sandhis or the interconnected emotional states of the hero (19:1-22). 8. Nayakas and Nayikas or heroes (24:1-6) and heroines (24:6-12). 9. Svaras or musical notes and Gramas or musical scales and ways of playing musical instruments like strings, flutes, drums and cymbals (28 & 29). 23

The text of the Natyashastra had become antiquated in some respects by the second century C.E. Out of the ten genres it had categorised, only three or four were being practiced by playwrights. Theatre seemed to have declined in its mass appeal as is witnessed by the disappearance of genres of action drama like Ihamrga, Dima and Vyayoga. The distinction between a performance script and a script written more with literary niceties in mind seems to have crept in. As a result, plays with literary value were preserved even when they had outlived their immediate potential as performance. No wonder that now we have only a tiny fraction of the total number of plays that saw the light of theatre. By the eighth century C.E. the living theatre of Bharata Muniâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s tradition seems to have further declined in India. Theorists of the practical art were substituted by literary and philosophic speculators who had less of the living art to witness and enjoy and more of the text to study and explicate. The text of Bharata Muni, however, has remained through the ages as the primary source of performing - knowledge (Natyaveda) for actors, dancers and musicians throughout the sub-continent and East Asia, who have upheld its directives with some major regional adjustments called Desi, which were done in medieval times, while certain antiquated aspects of it were classified as Margi. The Natyashastra, therefore, stands out in history as the foremost texts of cultural interchange and unity. Like the artists, the theoreticians have also lived under its shadow. Successive works such as Dattilam, Brhaddeshi, Hastaabhinaya, Sringaraprakasa, Sarasvatihrdayalankara, Sangitaratnakara, Nrttaratnavali, etc, have high-lighted only one area of performance such as music, dance, gesture or poetry, aiming neither at comprehensiveness nor upon focusing on theatre as a complete art.

The performance of a sacred play - Bhaona in a Naamghar in Assam. Photo credit : Sunny Lamba

The central character is the narrator of the play called the Sutradhar. Like all other characters in the play, he too sings and dances in a Bhaona. He intersperses his text with comments. Photo credit : Sunny Lamba

Boy Dancers performing â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Bohar Nacâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; in a Vaishnav Sattra in Assam. Photo courtesy : Dr. Anwesa Mahanta

Natyashastra A Model of Many Ways of Communicating

could not be performed in the cities under the sway of Islamic rule. But it got a reprieve by being patronised in the Hindu ashramas in the countryside and in the areas that were beyond the sway of Islam.

The revival or rather the re-creation of theatre in Europe in the 16th century, in spite of its drawing heavily on the theory of classical Greek and Roman theatre, also created an obfuscation of the real classical art. The ancient Greek theatre (and its follower the Roman) was a multichannel art. It had speech, dance, music, massive spectacle, sung dialogue, mask and conventional costume. It was not at all like the art of theatre revived in the different parts of Europe in various modern languages. The Renaissance theatre of Europe was largely a speech-based art in which the art of dialogue speaking dominated. It had movement of the body of the actor but very little ornate gesture and hardly any symbolism.

The course of theatre in India split into two with the invasions of Islam. Cities were denuded of theatre as it was haraam (prohibited) according to the theology of the new rulers. In the countryside ashramas there was either a lexical study of the manuscripts related to the texts of the ancient plays, the text of the Natyashastra and its commentaries, of the musicological and other shastras composed by the pundits such as Sangeeta Ratnakara, or performances of the new genres of religious theatre developed as part of Vaishanavabhakti. This new theatre such as of Raasa-Liilaa, Raamaattam, Krishnaattam (later called Kudiyattam) was a countryside product even though patronised by the sprawling temple complexes.

While theorists like Sir Phillip Sydney were writing their works like Defence of Poesy based on Aristotle, they knew very little of the actual techniques that went into the making of the ancient art. In ancient terms European revival of theatre had ethos, mythos, dianoia and lexis, but it had hardly any opsis (visual impact) or melopoiia (music). The arts of gesture and music could not be recreated as the practical tradition of theatre performance in Greece had been wiped out by the fanatical puritans of the new religion of Christianity which preached that drama was a devilish art of simulation and deceit. Europe was thus left with not many but just a couple of ways of communicating in theatre, namely those of non-musical speech and the rather realistic movement of the actors.

It may be noted that ancient plays used both secular and religious themes. Plays were composed on love exploits of kings, rich merchants, on war themes of conflicts between devas and danavas, on affairs of heavenly, human or rakshasa nayakas and nayikas, on political intrigues and wars. But the medieval plays were almost entirely on the divine play or liilaa of Rama or Krishna. The vast tradition of depicting secular life changed into singing the praise of divinity.

Shrinking of the multi-channelled techniques of ancient Art The performing tradition of Indian theatre failed to preserve the full gestural, spoken, sung, emotive, expressive, symbolic and decorative techniques of the ancient art. Because the secular themes had gone out and the characterization was limited to purana lore, because the audience was now the vaishanava devotee rather than the urbane, cosmopolitan and sophisticated theatre connoisseur, much of the stock in trade such as Dhruva Gaana, elaborate Purvaranga,

The ancient art of theatre in India had a luckier course. It continued to be practiced in all its multifarious channels even though the genres of performance went through many in the course of history. Parallel to the fate that befell Greek theatre, Indian theatre also suffered at the hands of puritanical Islamic persecution which also had the same theological reasons for prohibiting the art of theatre. In India as well, theatre 26

Sthitapaathya and several such conventions faded out or got transformed into simpler versions. In the temple complexes Natya shrank from a full-fledged the frequent performance by many players to only the ritual archanaa (devotional worship) by the single temple dancer (devadasi) before the deity. Dialogue (paathya) speaking suffered the most. It became totally localised and rather non-dramatic. The subtle balance between gestural (angikaabhinaya) and spoken (vaachika) was disturbed, to be entirely adapted to the local genres. Somewhere it became lost in very extensive and elaborate gestures (as in Kudiyattam), somewhere it became rhetorical (as in Bhavai), somewhere over domineering (as in Svanga) and so forth. The now so-called traditional theatre of India, though preserving the essential principles of the Natyashastra, has lost a great deal of the actual practical techniques of performance in the course of time.

The British Intervention and Westernization of Indian theatre The great blow, however to the art of Natyashastra came with the advent of British rule. By the 19th century, Europe had seen a glorious revival of theatre for more than two centuries. It had now a specific art form which it imagined to be a replica of Greek and Roman art. They had a battery of play scripts, of high literary value, and a mission of using theatre for social reform as part of White Man’s Burden. They introduced their plays into new colonial towns like Calcutta and Bombay for the entertainment of their administrators and their families and for instruction and education of the newly created class of subservient Indian Anglophiles. But as pointed out earlier their theatrical art was mainly speech based devoid of gestural symbolism and musical meaning. It could in practise or theory hardly connect to the actual ancient Indian art. The surviving remnants of that art in the country, was looked upon as vulgar and incomplete, nothing ‘classical’, and incapable of producing any text of literary value. The British thought of Indian classics like the plays of Kalidasa only as literary scripts. When they did not even have any clear ideas of the multi channelled nature of Greek performances and thought of Aeschylus or Euripides as good writers of dialogues, how could they possibly understand the performative scripts of ancient writers like Kalidasa, Shudraka and Bhavabhuti. Indian theatre was thus revived in Indian cities of the colonial period as grist for the mill of European productions. What was worse, the colonised Indians entirely internalised the British views and followed suit. Islam denuded urban theatre in India by prohibition but the British recycled it into a brown version of their white art. The whole sequence of events had two disastrous consequences. One, classical Indian theatre became synonymous with modern European theatre art, just telling an old Indian story. Two, surviving Indian theatre of the non-urban regions was disconnected from the ‘classical Indian theatre’ and was re-christened as ‘rural’, ‘vulgar’, ‘folk’ ‘religious’, ‘ritual’, ‘devil-dancing’ and often ‘non-Brahmin’. 27

Natyashastra Emerges Again Around 1930s some editions of NS came to be circulated presenting the ancient text with its most well-known commentary by Abhinavagupta. That was the opening of the door to understanding of the actual nature of the ancient performance in India. Now for almost a century the text of NS is the guide for reconstructing ancient performance with the help of the practises seen in the so called rural traditional theatre. But the impact of modern European theatre has created a massive confusion and most of it has become part of urban theatre. There is thus a big conflict between actual Indian theatre and Westernised Indian Theatre today. There is an un-subsiding conflict between the traditional genres and the modern genres. The latter came to India from Europe a century and half ago but have by now become the domineering content of the art scene. Whether it be the divergence between a printed, published and occasionally performed realism based urban Hindi play like Andha Yuga and a traditional rural Svanga, or the difference between a modern naturalistic novel like Godaana or Samskaara and a folk mythic epic like Alah-Udal, or the difference between a modern Malayalam film (its song and dance numbers notwithstanding) and a Kudiyattam performance, the hiatus offers very few meeting points between urban and traditional /rural genres. A lone exception among Indian art forms that resisted westernization so far was music, but that too has come under a severe neo-colonial influence in the last decade and is succumbing to westernization at an unprecedented scale. It is time which shall show if with a deep study of the NS we will be able to find a way to really reincarnate the glorious ancient Indian theatre art. This is not a revivalist wish, whatever we recreate will be new. It neither should be, nor aim to be, nor can it be, a replica, but it can always be another achievement based on what the ancient thought and felt as valuable. 28

References 1.

Gupt, Bharat. (1994) Dramatic Concepts Greek and Indian. Delhi. DK Printworld.

McEvilley, Thomas. (2002) The Shape of Ancient Thought. New York. Allworth Press.

Gupt, Bharat (1986) “Valmiki’s Ramayana and the Natyasastra.” In Sangeet Natak. 8182 (July-Dec.1986) 63-76.

Gupt, Bharat (1998) “Classifications on Lokadharmi and Natyadharmi.” Sangeet Natak 95. (Jan.-March 1990) 35-44.

Mahabharat (1955). Gorakhpur. Gita Press.

Natyasastram with Abhinahavabhaaratii. Ed. Ramakrishna Kavi. 4 vols. Gaekwad’s Oriental Series. Baroda: Oriental Institut2, vol. I (1956), vol. II (1934), vol. III (1954), vol. IV (1964).

I have an hour long taped conversation with Richard Schechner in which he makes known his debt to the Natyashastra. An article based on the tape is to appear soon.

Prof. Bharat Gupt, was formerly Associate Professor from the University of Delhi. A well known figure in the field of arts, he is a classicist, theatre theorist, sitar and surbahar

player,

musicologist,

cultural

analyst, and newspaper columnist. He is known as an international authority on the Natyashastra and classical Greek theatre, having been trained in both, Western and traditional Indian educational systems. As an erudite scholar, he has several books to his credit and for more than thirty five years, he has expounded extensively on classical Indian Sanskrit texts including the Dharma Shastras, at Universities in India, America and Europe. He was a Visiting Professor to Greece and has been a member of jury of the Onassis award for drama. He has been a Visiting Faculty at the National School of Drama, Delhi, and been a resource scholar at the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts where he is currently a Trustee and Executive Member. Photo courtesy : Author

The nayika in Shrinagara Dancer Lakshmi Vishwanathan, Photo credit : Cylla Toronto

Natyam while painting the emotional landscape of Katha The Story Lakshmi Vishwanathan

There is an “interior landscape” of emotions in the story-telling of dance. Wherever there are people there are stories to tell. Natyam literally meaning “drama”, is the generic term for what is now focussed as “dance” and has its origins in human emotions and life itself. The dance as I know it, has a long, unbroken history. It is a tradition of art which imitates life. The beauty of this stylised performative art which imitates nature and things natural, is that it becomes larger than life during the process of re-creation and representation. Why, one might wonder, is this phenomenon so acceptable and common. It is, to put it simply, a product of the intuition of the artist to use his or her imagination to make things which are extraordinary, accessible, understandable and enjoyable. The response an artist gets for his play with imagination, is the elixir of his life. The tasting of that aesthetic pleasure which the artist shares with the audience is known as Rasanubhava. As a researcher and dancer I was drawn quite early in my life to my own Tamil roots. Thus my book “Bharatanatyam the Tamil Heritage” (1984) focused on the sources of the inspirational aspect of my dance. What I saw, felt, heard, read, experienced, and savoured in my ethos governed the aesthetic trajectory of my dance. I told my stories in my language, my poetry, with my music, embellished with my Ragas. With a South Indian face and figure, I told stories that were in the fabric of my intricately woven history. The interior landscape of the stories which we were told of, and by my heroines (Nayikas) is naturally part of my in-ness.

Kamban who lived in the 12th century, sat in the temple of Tiruvottiyur not far from my home to write his magnum opus. I am humbled by his literary craft and by his mastery of Tamil. Originally titled “Rama Avatharam”, Kamban’s Ramayana is not a translation of Valmiki’s Sanskrit Ramayana. He writes his own version of the famous story with fabulous originality. Besides, Kamban’s work is characterised not just by the beauty of the Tamil language, replete with magnificent descriptions and embellishments, but also by the poet’s insight into human nature.

Bards (known as Virali and Panar who are the wandering minstrels featured in Sangam literature as early as the 6th century) had sung the stories from time immemorial. In medieval times, the saints of the Tamil country transformed themselves into women, the universal Nayikas or heroines, longing for the only man – God. They sang of love with ecstasy and danced in blissful self-forgetfulness. It is that song and dance that entered the landscape of my imagination. I also perceived the typical settings. I saw the poet’s visualisation of mountains, rivers, sea, desert, forest and field, and felt their texture, inhaled the fragrances, tasted the aromas and pleasured in crafting a language of dance with a rich amalgam of nature’s gifts.

Reading him makes the mind brim with ideas to express his words in dance. I do not need to tell the whole Ramayana story. That is for another craft. I only look at verses which speak volumes in small clusters of erudite words. Thus I venture to portray a scene from the Kamba Ramayanam.

In classical Tamil love poetry the inner universe is associated with certain known habitats. Of the many thinai or landscapes, four are geographically situated in the Tamil country and associated with particular situations in the context of Love. Kurinci (mountainous region) is associated with union.

It is not an extensive canvas of actions, but a delicate pattern of beautiful images suitable for evocative Abhinaya - a pretty scene, worth visualising. The young princes Rama and Lakshmana are entering Mithila, capital of the kingdom ruled by Janaka, the father of Sita with their guru the sage Vishwamitra. Whilst they are amazed at the majesty of this royal city of beautiful buildings and palaces, the citizens of Mithila are curious, and bedazzled by the beauty of the young lads, particularly the hero Rama. Sita must catch a glimpse of him before she sees him in the formal setting of her father’s court. This is where Kamban scores with his romantic descriptions. Sita’s companions, the young girls of Mithila are such beauties that even peacocks, grazing in the flower laden gardens, quietly fly away, fearing competition.

Mullai (forests) with waiting, Marutham (cultivated fields) with quarrels, and Neytal (the seashore) with pining. These landscapes were not merely the background for the Culture of the ancient Tamil people but were essentially the catalysts which breathed life into the poetry that bards sang. It is thus that music was not merely a tune, but an idea, an emotion, an aesthetically appealing piece of melodious literature. It is this poetic expression of life which has inspired the richness of the dance, Bharatanatyam as I know it. We draw on well known stories to infuse a sense of the dramatic in our dance. This Natyam is not a theatrical performance where characters are played by different actors. A solo dancer becomes many characters in a subtle art known as Abhinaya. Time and space merge to make a character come alive. A great epic like the Ramayana had many tellings. For a Tamil exposition we study Kamban and Arunachala Kavirayar.

The girls are struck by Rama’s persona. Kamban says that the girls were transfixed! Those that set eyes on his robust shoulders saw only that. Others who saw his long arms could not move their eyes away. Many who saw his gait froze in wonder. All who saw his beauty stopped whatever they were doing in a moment of mesmerised

stillness. Sita looked down from her balcony. Her eyes met Ramaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s. He too looked at her. It was a moment of magic, like lightning, like a thunderbolt, an awakening, love at first sight. This is the ideal verse for adaptation into the expressive art of Abhinaya. Kamban revels in pithy poetry to make this scene complete, detailing it like a slow opening of every petal in a big lotus. Absorbing, relishing and soaking in the depth of this poetry, I express it with my language of dance. It is a special vocabulary of gestures, body stances and facial expressions accompanied by the verses sung in suitable Ragas. I bring out all the Sancharibhavas to realise the still moments of intense Sringara. This is the story within a story which makes the core of Abhinaya. This requires artistry informed by experience and originality. My goal is not merely telling that story, that moment of love-awakening between the hero and heroine, but drawing the viewer to see the poetic imagination of Kamban whom he has probably never read, and make him experience the Rasa, Sringara... taste it, relish it, and perhaps cherish it as a memory of artistic excellence.

Kamban and his consort enshrined in temple at his birth place Terezhundur, Photo courtesy : Author

My question to myself while I was exploring the dance-worthiness of some epic women was how I would focus on some unsung characters who played key roles in the making of an epic. They are not romantic heroines. They are women who have strength of character, and display resilience in their hour of trial. I ventured deep into the character of the mother... Amma, Ma, Thai. Universally she is a most respected woman. Her sacrifices are legend. Her nobility is unparalleled. She is the icon of essential womanhood. Whatever be the epic in which she is fore-grounded, she

Indian postage stamp commemorating the poet Kamban

towers with strength. But is she not vulnerable as all other beings are? Is her motherly love, Vatsalya, less powerful than the passion of a heroine? Is her quiet acceptance of her fate not worthy of ration? Is her voice heard? Is her anguish at separation from her child not the most poignant, most telling, most tragic and most epic of all, in magnitude?

The angusihed mother dancer Lakshmi Viswanathan, Photo credit : Avinash Pasricha

I ventured to tell some interesting stories about courageous mothers. Two women, Kausalya and Devaki, both mothers of phenomenal heroes who have riveting stories to tell. Kamban portrays one in his Ramayana as a woman of fortitude, strong, yet vulnerable. She has the right to express her anguish when she faces a critical moment of separation from her beloved son. Kausalya the mother of Rama, is in a state of ecstatic anticipation as Kamban describes her. She is imagining the young handsome Rama coming to her in regal splendour, decked with suitable adornments, ready to be crowned king of Ayodhya. But... the world crashes around her when she sees him dressed like a wandering mendicant... and she collapses when he announces his exile. This is not just a moment of theatre but also the heart wrenching story (katha) of a motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s deep sorrow. She rises in her disappointed rage and accosts her husband Dasaratha. â&#x20AC;&#x153;What wrong have I done to deserve this.... should I even live to see this tragedy ?â&#x20AC;? she sings. Her voice is the universal voice of a mother suffering the pangs of separation from her beloved son; a prince denied his crown, exiled for fourteen long years when he is in the prime of his youth. Here the love of the mother, must be portrayed in Abhinaya with the force of righteousness. One must bring to the stage, the right of a mother and wife to demand an

explanation for what is an unbearable injustice, a despicable aberration. As a keen observer of human actions and reactions, I must use all my skills to bring despair, despondency and helplessness to the central character, yet rise above it all to plunge an accusative dagger into the heartless father, a noble king who has banished his beloved, sweet, innocent son to keep his promise to a conniving woman. The audience must feel the anguish of Kausalya. My portrayal should elicit Karuna rasa: pity and sympathy for a wronged mother. At times, the storyline of a disappointed mother has a different colouring. I express the â&#x20AC;&#x153;pulambalâ&#x20AC;? (anguished utterances) of a bereft mother - Devaki, who is the natural mother of Krishna. She sings about the fortunate Yashoda, the foster mother who enjoys all the delights of being with the lovable child. He is no ordinary child, but a divine incarnation, Krishna, the lord himself. Like Kausalya in the Ramayana, Devaki bemoans her loss. But she accepts her fate, and finds solace in imagined joy. Like a woman in a trance she sings lullabies to an empty cradle. With the rich resources of an eloquent body language known to me, I must become Devaki on the stage. My sorrow is a peremptory emotion because I am caught up in expressing many things in the poetry of Kulasekara Alwar (one of the twelve famous Vaishnavite saints of medieval India). He is adept at portraying the playful child Krishna. He even likens him to a chubby baby elephant kicking up a cloud of dust as he is playing with other children on a sandy patch by the river Yamuna. In an extraordinary twist to the tale, the child swallows a handful of sand, and an angry Yashoda makes him open his mouth after many a threatening admonishment. And lo and behold ! She sees the entire universe in it. In a trice, motherly love, or Vatsalya is transformed into complete and awestruck devotion. She bows in supplication as the overwhelmed devotee. She is speechless. Her face tells a story that is poignant, and beyond description. She has had a vision. Adbhutha or Wonder is a rasa one can experience often when such a story is being told. It is a narrative of godly proportions with magical effects and after-effects. Blessed are those whom the saint composers name as the fortunate souls who have a 35

darshan of the divine. Their ecstasy is reflected in the reaction couched in the poet’s song, sung in a suitable raga. I, the dancer can visualise a situation such as this and make it an impressive performance. I am the interpreter in a dialogue where the saint-poet is singing of the gods, with the gods themselves listening. Epic women are not just beautiful women. They are also strong characters who come into their own in those crucial moments of the story. Their character is moulded by the poet with an eye for detail. As a dancer it is my privilege to study the text and furthermore look deep into the sub-text to portray the many emotions and extraordinary situations through which an epic story meanders. Like the gushing waters of a mountain stream that joins the main course of a big river, these small yet poignant episodes make up the long story and give it the credentials of being called an epic, a Maha Katha.

sensuality. The dance I compose explores the text in full, and presents a colourful canvas of changing moods in the play of love. A plethora of emotions directed towards Vishnu or Krishna demand special histrionic skills. Mad in love, the girl is herself in the magnificent obsession. Her friend the sakhi, becomes her confidante. They must speak to each other with their eyes, lest the elders discover their secret trysts with a lover. The mighty Lord of the three worlds, is the lover par excellence, and the listless heroine cannot bear any separation in her devotional journey (Viraha Bhakti). Her story is a moving tale of love experienced, remembered, and lost. While she speaks of the pangs of her aching heart wilting like a lotus under a cloud, she cannot help but sing the praise of Tirumal, the vanquisher of all evil, who appears again and again in many Avatars to display his unequalled might. It is the poet’s fancy to mingle the most astounding stories of the Lord’s valour with the heroine’s descriptions of his amorous dalliances under a moonlit canopy of stars.

Poetry was not inscribed in palm leaves in medieval South India. It was sung and danced as Abhinaya. This is seen in the thousand year old tradition of ritual dance known as Arayar Sevai*. The Vaishnavite Bhakti poets, along with their foremost exponent Nammalvar created this trend followed by all his contemporaries and innumerable others over the centuries. The community of priests known as Arayars gave expression to the stories composed by the saint poets. They sang of their favourite deity Vishnu. This is how they ensured the preservation, for posterity, of a vast body of precious literature much before they were ever recorded as written words. Bhakti-Sringara (devotional passion) is the core of the poems. The Arayars are dancing the ritual poetry to this day in select temples like Srirangam. The story they narrate in pithy Tamil is incidental to the emotion of divine love.

From the Alwars, inspiration has flowed down the centuries, producing Vaggeyakars (poets who recited their works in chosen tunes set to systematic Ragas) like Jayadeva, Annamacharya and Kshetragna. Dancing to this rainbow of poems is like colouring a vast canvas with myriad images. As an Abhinaya artist, I am challenged to tell these stories with the language of gestures enhanced by my facial expressions changing like quick silver to suit profound human situations. Yet the exercise does not end with producing a mirror image of life. One has to re-invent one’s own artistry to lift the poem from the arena of the physical and sensual to the meta-physical. We are speaking to God, the beloved of all. We must make the core idea come to a sparkling oneness with that elusive spirituality which is integral to the poem itself. Therein lies the challenge of bringing the audience into the fold of an otherworldly experience of eternal pleasure. We begin to understand why savants succumbed to the temptation of speaking of rasanubhava as a spiritual experience.

As a dancer who relishes the amazing continuity of my cultural background, I too use the sacred texts of the Alwars to make their words visual poetry. The poets sing as the loving heroines (Nayikas) with striking 36

The traditional repertoire of Bharatanatyam when seen in proper perspective tells its own story. Of particular interest to me is the Pada Varnam, which is accepted as the centrepiece of a performance. The classic Varnams composed by the brothers known as the Tanjore Quartet who were palace musicians and dance gurus, are unique. They are known for musical excellence, and lyrical simplicity. In addition they and their successors have kept the life of these compositions vibrant with an orderly array of pure dance woven into the song. Rhythm and melody flow together, to make such Varnams, strong in their artistic appeal. Although their poetic fervour is not intense, they tell stories typical of their times. In fact they are a fascinating part of the history of Bharatanatyam with which present day practitioners can easily identify. In a typical Varnam in the raga Kalyani (Sarasijakshudu Neevani Chala Eevela) composed by one of the brothers, Sivanandam, I play a Nayika who is addressing the “lotus eyed one”, telling him: ‘You are the one in my heart, I hear your flute, and I am here only to unite with you... I trust you, I am struck by the flower arrows of the god of love, I know you are the Lord of this place called Dakshina Dwaraka, you are the epitome of beauty - soundarya, do not delay any more, come to me Gopala.’ It is a simple and direct address of love.

Rajagopala as Andal, Photo courtesy : Author

When I dance this Varnam, I follow the lessons taught to me by my wise Gurus. The sthayibhava or root of the emotion is Rati. It is the essential core of the concept of love or Sringara. I must present that emotion in delicate shades with nothing dramatic intruding on the vulnerable situation faced by the heroine. But all the while I am aware of this particular Krishna. I have been to this Kshetra (sacred place) and experienced the mystic beauty of Rajagopala who is the deity enshrined in this magnificent temple at Mannargudi.

The Tanjore Quartet Photo courtesy : Jayshree Mani

The elaborate re-enactment of mythology related to Krishna is essential to the rituals conducted throughout 37

the year in this temple. On festival days, the processions of the deity are arranged as if he were riding a different vehicle (vahana), with each day, denoting some special significance culled out from the Puranas. The processional idol (utsava murthi) of Rajagopala, can be transformed into a multitude of personas, one more endearing than the other. The world is his stage and he enacts a different drama every night to engage the multitudes who throng to get a glimpse of him. The range is full of breath-taking variety - from the child Krishna holding a pot of butter, to the warrior prince driving a chariot. Almost magically Rajagopala appears as Mohini the celestial temptress who carries a pot of the nectar of eternity to give to the Devas, teasing and denying it to the Asuras who crave for it. On another festive day, Rajagopala becomes his own female devotee the incomparable saint-poet Andal. Many such significant episodes from mythology are re-enacted as ritual in this temple. We artists too enact mythology. We remind our spectators that from time immemorial such stories (kathas) have been popular with young and old alike. It is a significant phenomenon of our timeless involvement with our culture, that the godly characters can be made accessible when they are portrayed as vulnerable to emotions. Such is the magic of telling a tale of faith and belief. The essentially divine character of the much loved deity Rajagopala is in my psyche while I unfold the story of the Nayika addressing him unabashedly as her lotus-eyed beloved. I strike a fine balance between an intimate revelation of love for this hero and a profound reverence for his multifaceted attributes as the God of all things. The melody of the Kalyani raga, gives the simple lyrics a moving sensitivity. The sensuous fused with the powerful super-natural subtext makes my Varnam a thing of incredible beauty. Katha, in this instance is not just a story. It is a vast landscape of mystic love, mingled with indescribable emotions. Rajagopala is god, lover and hero. As the heroine, I yearn for his look, his touch. As a devotee I know he will occupy my heart forever. My Bharatanatyam can paint a canvas, full of emotions. It can tell a story with lucid clarity. I only have to be inspired to use what I have studied over many years to create that unforgettable yet ephemeral Rasanubhava for the pleasure of my rasikas. That is the goal of an artist. 38

Notes Arayar Sevai is a temple ritual which originated with the singing of the hymns of the Vaishnavite saints (Alwars). It survives to this day in the temples of Srirangam, Srivilliputtur and Alwartirunagari. The person who recites the hymns and uses gestures is known by the title Arayar. Sevai means worship. The antiquity of this practice is borne out by the fact that even today, during the ritual at Srirangam temple, the names of the Arayars of the 10th and 11th century are mentioned in a part of the recitation known as Arulappadu. It is widely believed that one of the saints, Tirumangai Alwar of the 8th century was the first one to sing the hymns accompanied by gestures in the Srirangam temple.

Guru

Lakshmi

Viswanathan,

Bharatanatyam master, steeped in the culture of Tanjavur, has performed in every major festival in India. Her thematic performances, artistry in Abhinaya, and insightful

lecture

demonstrations

are

eagerly awaited. Frequently contributing articles

arts

journals,

newspapers

and dance portals, she is author of acclaimed books - “Bharatanatyam the Tamil Heritage”, “Kunjamma Ode to a Nightingale”- a biography of Bharat Ratna M. S. Subbulakshmi, “Women of Pride: The Devadasi Heritage”, and “Kapaliswara Temple”. the

She

prestigious

currently Kalakshetra

editor

Journal.

Recipient of several awards including ‘Sangeet Natak Akademi’ award, the prestigious ‘Nritya Kalanidhi’ award from the Music Academy, Madras and the ‘Kalidas Samman’, her important choreographic works

include

“Banyan

Tree”,

“Chaturanga” and “My Thyagaraja” based on the life of Bangalore Nagratanammal.

Photo courtesy : Author

The Bhava & Rasa of Sangeet : The case of Hindustani Sangeet Professor Rita Ganguly Indian Classical Music, ancient as it is, has played a vital role in shaping our Indian culture and traditions. No wonder that be it a happy occasion like a marriage ceremony, the birth of a child or any other celebration, music plays one of the most important parts without which every celebration remains incomplete. Music affords a spiritual experience that unfolds silently within us, abstractly, unconsciously and continuously, transporting the listener into another world.

In the Bhagwat the god Krishna says “Na aham Vasami Baikunthe yoginam hridyam ch Yatr madhbhakta gayante tatr vasami aham” “Neither I live in heaven nor in the heart of saints Where my devotees practice music I live there”

In Sangeet, lie Bhava (emotion) and Rasa (sentiment), technical terms discussed extensively in what is considered to be one of the oldest treatises on performing art: the nearly two millennia old Natya Shastra, credited to Bharat Muni. The great scholar from Kashmir, Abhinav Gupt, who analysed the Natya Shastra in a masterful work called Abhinavbharati, a thousand years ago, reiterates that Rasa, literally translated as taste or essence, is the ultimate goal of all literature.

Rita Ganguly performs a wedding song, replete with dramatics, in the popular film Parineeta

In the past, Natya (theatre or drama) too, was an integrative art that included theatre (speech, dialogues), music (songs of all kinds, instrumental music and vocal music) and dance. The Natya Shastra, through its 6000 Sanskrit shlokas gives detailed information of all categories of performing arts which were then prevalent in India, and it continues to frame the essence of Indian performing art even today, while creating a pathway towards their agenda, which is ‘Rasanubhuti’ (the savouring of rasa). It is important to note that the Rasa, the taste of aesthetic juice, is never practiced by the performer; Rasa is exclusively experienced by the audience. No performing art ever can enact the rasa. The performer uses her artistry to convey Bhavas and it is the impact of Bhava that creates the Rasa, in the mind of the ‘Rasik’, the one who is ready to experience rasa. One can never be sure of Rasa, whether the sthayibhav (the fixed permanent condition) which when the performer attempts, gestates its corresponding Rasa. To understand the methodology of creating the environment for Rasanubhuti, it is important for us to recognize the definition, relationship and expanse of the two terms of Rasa and Bhava. Rasa is a sentiment and the eight basic sentiments that a human being experiences, are: Sringara (Love), Hasya (Comic/Laughter), Karunya (Sorrow), Raudra (Anger), Veeram (Valour), Bhayanaka (Fear), Bibhatsa (Disgust), and Adbhuta (Wonder). These are the eight sentiments that a performer tries to create through the Bhavas. Bhavas are of many types, but each Rasa is linked to a master Bhava called Sthayi Bhava. For instance, Shringar is born out of a sthayi bhava called Rati (Delight). Hasyam is born of Hasya (Laughter), Karunya from Soka (sorrow), Raudra from Krodha (Anger ), Veeram from Utsaha (Heroism), Bhayam from Bhaya (Fear), Bibhatsa from Jugupsa (Disgust), and Adbhutam from Vismaya (Wonder). Each Sthayi bhava is further executed with the help of 33 transitory moods called Sanchari Bhavas. Further, there is the provision of Anubhavas and Vibhavas (consequents and determinants) as well as Vyabhichari bhavas (visitant emotions), that add rich hues and tints to the tapestry of Bhavas created by the artiste. The Rasa sutra says “Bhava Vibhava, Anubhava, Vyabhichari, Samyugate Rasanishpati”. In case the bhavas are perfectly executed, it brings out the corresponding Rasa.

Mixing the Ingredients The word Rasa is very close to the experience of taste and so let me explain by an analogy of cooking, how the ingredients are mixed, prepared and processed for consumption. To cook a tasty chicken dish, the cook would take raw chicken, oil, an appropriate amount of uncooked onion, garlic and ginger, which is prepared into a paste, to which he adds different kind of herbs and cooks it at a certain temperature, adding individual condiments at different times in the process of preparing the dish, according to the demands of the recipe. The chicken that is prepared is ready to be served at the table, while none of the above mentioned ingredients could be served in their raw form. When all the ingredients are cooked properly, with none of the tastes being overwhelming, does the chicken become tender and tasty, and worthy of being savoured. 42

Exactly the same thing happens to an audience and the correct impact of Rasa, leads to the ultimate bliss or Anandam. The ideal presentation of a performing art too, aims at giving rasanubhuti or anandam to its audience. Interestingly, the artiste is called a patra or vessel in whom the ingredients are mixed and the cooking process happens. The artiste has to be very careful about consistency, constancy, proportion and appropriateness of the cocktail of sancharibhavas being mixed. It requires considerable skill, training, discipline and a gentle hand that makes the process seem effortless. Sometimes if the balance and the ingredients do not gel, the same bhava evokes totally the opposite Rasa. For instance, if a warrior is expressing valour as the sthayi bhava, and his body language is that of an effete man, unable to hold the weapon or execute the dialogue with its proper power and weight, it can evoke laughter, rather than the rasa of valour.

Sangeet Sangeet, as defined in Natya Shastra, has a much wider connotation, but is arranged in categories. At one point in my life I collected 561 folk and traditional instruments from actual musicians, to display in an exhibition. As part of my curatorial preparation, I glanced at what the Natya Shastra had to say about the instruments. The treatise described only four categories of instruments used in Indian music - sushir vadhya (wind instrument), tat vadhya (string instrument), ghan vadhya (instrument with membrane stretched on it) and the anhad vadya (stroke instrument). Despite my best efforts to find a fifth category, with so many contemporary instruments that are used today, I failed miserably, and each one of the instruments did fall in one of the four categories. I cite this to suggest the continuing relevance of the Natya Shastra and how it covers the scape of Hindustani Sangeet of today.

The Hindustani Sangeet of Today Indian music can be divided into following distinct categories: Folk, Traditional, Light and Classical.

Folk Originally, in folk music there are no listeners, only participants, with the music reinforcing the glue that holds society together. Folk music expresses a gamut of emotions from happiness to even mourning. The literature in folk music reflects the geographical background and is invariably a local dialect. Folk music contains familiar metaphors, images and icons, and is handed down over multiple generations through oral transmission. During the performance, one member with a natural capacity of correct vocal pitch, leads, while everybody, having total faith in him as a leader, follows as an ensemble. This ensures inclusivity and expansive participation. In this form of Sangeet, the concept of â&#x20AC;&#x153;I pay and you performâ&#x20AC;? does not exist, not even today. The several compositions that have come down generations and still enjoy popularity, retain the aroma of the soil, and just 43

Photo courtesy : Author

a refrain of the melody is sufficient to evoke from where they have come. For example, boliyaan, tappa, and heer of Punjab, the bhatiali (river songs) and baul gaan (mendicant songs) of Bengal, the Chhath, Holi, and marriage songs of Bihar or dadra, chaiti, jhula, kajri, and sawan of Uttar Pradesh, and the ghoomar and maand of Rajasthan, among others.

Traditional Music Traditional music can be described as music that flows from the heart of India’s rich traditions and its varied cultural heritage. There are numerous forms in this set that have a firm grip on multiple light classical forms and inflections of folk and regional cultural practices from our pluralistic society. In the vast Indian subcontinent, at every 100 km there is a traditional play in which the entire dialogue is sung. These forms of regional theater have retained their popularity - like the Jatra of Bengal, Bhaona of Assam, Nautanki of Uttar Pradesh, Birha of Bihar, Bhand Pather of Kashmir, Maach of Madhya Pradesh, Rasleela of Mathura and the Ramleela of Banaras. Interestingly, the Ramleela is not just practiced throughout the country by local participants, but also internationally, especially in the South-East Asian region to this day. Some of this traditional music carries diverse spiritual influences - Sufi songs which are available in multiple languages including some that do not have a geographical home any more (eg. Sindhi Sufi compositions) or are a throw back on ancient language traditions (the Saraiki songs of the Langas and Mangniars). Among other types of spiritual songs are Balakeertan of the Vaishnav Sampraday, Kabir Panthy songs, Katha Sangeet, etc. I would like to comment in detail on some specific forms.

A) Sufi Music There is one form which is rich and growing richly in popularity, Sufi music, written and composed by great saints through centuries like, Hazrat Ameer Khusro, Baba Fareed, Waris Shah, Gulam Rasool, etc. From the 13th century, inspired by the Islamic faith, but incorporating many native Indian traditions especially the keertan and bhajan traditions, emerged a kind of music uniquely ‘made in India’, that focused on the spiritual expression. A good example is Qawwali. Many great Sufi saints contributed the poetry which was sung by professional musicians. Qawwali singers are extremely well trained in classical music with the leader of the group invariably having an innate sense of improvising the lyric in the Raag (melodic structure that the main lyric is set to). The most common subject of the Qawwali is love, here the love is of the disciple - Mureed, for his preceptor the Pir.

B) Kabir Panthy One of the greatest mystical poets India has ever produced is Kabir. There is a large community that follows a different lifestyle wherein singing the mystical poetry of Kabir is an integral part with an accompaniment of chautara which provides both, the musical refrain, and supports rhythmical patterns. There are a few musical groups which have become very famous today, chief amongst them being that of Prahalad Singh Tippania. 45

Baba Allauddin Khan (centre) teaching his prime disciples Pt. Ravi Shankar (left) and Ustad Ali Akbar Khan (right). Photo courtesy : Sangeet Natak Akademi

C) Kathavachak Sangeet (Satyanarayankatha, Bhagwat katha, etc.) Professional musicians sing, telling the stories or katha, interspersing it with prose explanations, while the devotees fast and keep awake the whole night, as a gesture of their faith. The jagrans and chowkis of the Mother Goddess Mata - are as popular as Bhagwat and Satyanarayan kathas, successfully evoking devotional fervor. Many similar but secular ballad singing traditions are very popular around India too, like Alha Udal (the story of two warriors called Alha and Udal) in the Budelkhand region and Pabu ji ki Phad (literally the Scroll of Pabu ji, who was a Rathod Rajput Chief of the Thar Desert), which evoke the sentiment of valour in each telling. The narratives of doomed lovers Lakhinder and Behula are sung by the traditional painters called Patuas, even as they paint the scrolls.

Light Film Music Light music has mainly come up with the emergence of Indian films and was free of the need to adhere to any rules as long as the music turned out to be popular, and was on everyone’s lips. In that respect this is the most contemporary source of music. In a way it is comparable to an urban folk form. This era commenced really with ‘Alam Ara’, the first talkies made in 1931, which included the hit song “De de khuda ke naam pur”, which has the distinction of being the first song of the Indian cinema. However, music had been associated with films far longer, even during the era of silent films. In a silent film, music was used to create the mood of the scene through a live orchestra. 46

Thumri

In the initial years of the talkies, the actors sang their own songs. Even the Alam Ara hit was sung by actor Wazir Muhammed Khan who played the role of a fakir. Among other well known actor singers were Jaddan Bai, Begum Akhtar, Suraiyya, Noor Jahan, K. L. Saigal and Kishore Kumar.

Thumri matches the closest to the description of music, raag gayaki, in the Natyashastra. This similarity lies in its basic structure, the treatment of the Raag, the melodic movements, its use of word imagery and technical handling. The lyrics of a thumri originally used to be nothing but a Haiku, a string of 3 to 6 words - brief but a great form of poetry, which is found only in Japan today. Haikus invariably have many shades of meaning in just one line and that is what a vocalist explores and expands on, one by one. In singing just one emotion laden line of the composition, all technical maneuvers get incorporated.

Even Bharat Ratna M. S. Subbulakshmi was a singing actress. Many women singers came from the professional singing women’s community of tawaifs and Devadasis. Gauhar Jaan was a pioneer among women who recorded for the gramophone companies and saw unparalleled success. Then the breakthrough of playback happened in the 40s. Till today the film actors do not sing themselves, even though each film has 5 to 7 songs, all pre-recorded by the playback singers, and the music is often released even before the actual film. If the film’s music becomes a hit, then the producer can recover the money used even before the movie releases. There are many stalwarts in the field of playback music - Jamuna Devi, Kananbala, Promothesh Barua, K. L. Saigal and many others including Mohammed Rafi, Kishore Kumar, Manna De and Mukesh etc., but the singer who stands at an iconic position is Bharat Ratna Lata Mangeshkar, with musicality, purity and innocence in her voice and an unmatched ability to convey Rasa. Thousands of her songs are responsible for making hundreds of films becoming blockbusters.

In treatment, thumris adhere strictly to the raag theory. Thumri singing is not an arrangement in a ‘raag malika’ - a garland adorned with different flowers. Thumri is the only form of classical music which uses the concept of moorchana, i.e changing the raag in the same scale by changing the tonic. The shift of tonic in a scale is called moorchana which is one of the main techniques of thumri singing. It uses the Kakubhed (voice modulation) and uses different ways of pronouncing the same word aesthetically. Thumris are in the feminine voice. They are spiritually directed, as the Lord is visualized as the only man in this world, with the rest being women, all aspiring to unite with him. So the entire longing in separation, or the journey towards union, and the anticipatory joy of union and the sorrow of separation (Birah and Milan) are the main themes of the lyrics. The musical treatment in thumri gives expression to nayika bhed the demarcation of the different type of heroines, on the basis of mood, sentiment and situation.

Classical Music - Shastriya Sangeet The Indian classical music over the centuries has three distinct styles. Thumri, which is described in the works of Kalidasa, and finds mention in the Harivansh Puran. The second style, started in 7th century A.D., finally blossomed by the time of 15th century A.D. - Dhrupad, and the third - Khayal, which came into being around the end of the 17th century and blossomed fully in the 19th century. All three are still in practice.

The language used is invariably the dialect of northern India. It went through many names, earlier it was known as chalikya or chalitam and then finally the sthambh (the pillar, of classical music). In most parts of 47

Photo courtesy : Ustad Wasifuddin Dagar who represents the 20th generation of the Dagar Baani.

India, people are not comfortable pronouncing the syllable â&#x20AC;&#x2DC; S,â&#x20AC;&#x2122; and thamb morphed into thumri. Unfortunately, over the centuries, under the influence of Dhrupad, thumri has acquired many refrains or antaras today. Without this spiritual undertone thumri cannot be sung precisely. It is this concept that I was taught by my first music teacher - the Queen of thumri, Sidheshwari Devi of Banaras (1908-1977), who is remembered in living memory as the best exponent of thumri. This spiritual explanation and the nuanced interpretation of each composition was reiterated by my second teacher Begum Akhtar (1912-1974). She would carry an audience without knowledge of music or the language of the composition, into a spiritual journey.

Dhrupad Around 7th century, India went through one of the greatest cultural revolutions - the bhakti movement, a big idea of its time. All of a sudden God became the beloved living within your heart. It created an egalitarian access to God, permitting conversation and dialogue with the divine. In every temple, the feudal heads who patronised the temples forced regularly employed temple musicians to sing throughout for virtually 24 hours. The devotees from far land would come with their food and bedding packed in their bullock carts. The entire family would go to the temple and park themselves for days. Therefore, the length 48

of the musical compositions had to be adjusted for longer rendering. Consequently, the musician had to add three more stanzas to the original compositions, so that the story would gain narrative muscle, and the listener kept entertained, with the sthayi, antara, sanchari and aabhog, and the first portion of the vocal singing commencing with the chanting of names ‘Om namho ananta hari narayan’. Over the centuries, the first sentence, by which the raag pattern is established, has gone through distortion because practically 90% of professional musicians embraced Islam where the mention of Om and Hari is forbidden. They converted the chant into ‘nom tom tana ana na na’. Today, after expanding the raag through the ‘nom tom’ alaap, the bandish (the composition) starts with the accompaniment of the pakhawaj, a horizontal cylindrical drum, tuned as per the pitch of the vocalist. Once the composition starts along with the percussion, the only improvisation would be in the variety of speeds - in deference to the need to entertain the audience. The greatest name in Dhrupad singing is believed to be Tansen, disciple of Swami Haridas. The Swami’s other disciples were Baiju Bawara and Naik Gopal Das. There are no descendents of this great singer, but there are enumerable eminent musicians who associate their lineage with the Senia gharana (The musical house/lineage drawing from Tansen). Dhrupad was earlier known as ‘geeti gayan’ but today, there are three distinct senia sub gharanas- the SeniaBangash, the Senia-Shahjahanabad and the Senia-Jaipur gharanas that play rabab, sarod, veena and sitar. The main baani of Dhrupad was the Gauhar baani in which Swami Haridas and Tansen sang. Another well known baani of Dhrupad is Dagar baani, the founding doyens of which were Gyandhar Pandey and Gadadhar Pandey. Today Ustad Wasifuddin Dagar represents the 20th generation of the Dagar baani. Other baanis - the Khandhar baani and Nauhar baani, are unfortunately almost obsolete. The Gauhar baani’s vocal style was retained only in Vishnupur in West Bengal, the last big titan of which was Pt. Gopeshwar Bandopadhyay who was a brilliant singer and knew hundreds of rare compositions of the great composer singer Yadubhatt, the guru of Nobel laureate Rabindra Nath Tagore. As a child, my first teacher was Gopeshwar Babu. He was 75 at that time but what a powerful singer! Unfortunately, his sons took to Khayal gayaki. Through centuries, instrumental music, because of its limited audibility, lacked star power. Instrumentalists could attain center stage only after the emergence of the microphone, the sound system and recordings on the gramophone or radio.

Khayal Khayal is an Arabic word which literally means ‘idea’. This particular form of classical Sangeet today is most prevalent and popular. It gives immense freedom of creativity, being bound only to the Raag. Three brothers of a professional family of Lucknow migrated to Gwalior to make a living as performers, and created this new style naming it Khayal. The literature and composition were picked up from thumri, while the technical maneuvering were derived from dhrupad since it has all the acrobatics quality to ensure that the audience is kept spellbound. Khayal may not take you to a spiritual journey, but is about enjoyment and entertainment, and satisfies the 49

creative urges, with the showmanship of the swift syllables, which by themselves create the rasa of adbhutam! Some of the outstanding practitioners of this style, are Ustad Ameer Khan of Kirana gharana, Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan of Patiala gharana and Ustad Fayiaz Khan of Agra Atrauli gharana, amongst many more. The Khayal singers’ artistry is inimitable and unparalleled in the world of classical music. The only accompaniment with this style is the tabla and two well-tuned tanpuras.

Guru Shishya Parampara Indian music is an un-notated music, accounting for constant freshness. But given this uncertainty, the role of the guru is critical in Sangeet’s pedagogy. The oral transmission requires a special and deeply personal relationship between the guru and the disciple that goes by the name of the Guru Shishya parampara. It is personal, customised and one on one. It is often described as ‘Seena ba seena”, through which not just the specialised knowledge but life’s lessons get transferred intergenerationally. This individualisation allows multiple interpretations to coexist as the guru allows the disciple to blossom in his individual style, without suffering the limitations of cloning. All forms of Sangeet - from folk to classical, in fact the entire cachet of spiritual, cultural and scientific knowledge has till this date, been transmitted by the guru. That is why the guru is given the status of god in India. It is the Guru who shows the path for the learning that leads you to the ultimate goal of Indian performing arts - Anandam. That is the reason why even if today’s formula film gives anandam, it is a successful creative expression.

Begum Akhtar in concert accompanied by her disciple Rita Ganguly Photo courtesy : Author

Prof. Rita Ganguly was nurtured in a highly educated and cultured family of Lucknow, presided over by the eminent littérateur Dr. K. L. Ganguly. Rita, right from childhood was encouraged, towards academic advancement as well as artistic excellence. Trained originally in Dhrupad by Gopeshwar Bandopadhyay of the Vishnupur Gharana at Shantiniketan, Prof. Rita Ganguly, (after having won the National Scholarship for Kathakali And Bharatanatyam) won it for a record third time for music, which has turned out to be her enduring love and pre-eminent credential. More than the prestige of the National Scholarship was the honour of being selected by the Queen of Thumri, Sidheshwari Devi, as her first ‘gandaband shagird’. At that time Rita was being trained by the Badshah of Bhava Shambhu Maharaj and her voice was moulded to traverse the octaves of Khayal by Pandit Mani Prasad of Kirana Gharana. Later she learnt the nuances of the Patiala Gharana and Ghazal Gayaki from Begum Akhtar for over nine long years. She is among the few musicians in the country who continue to adhere to cultivate and popularize the traditional modes of music. Her most significant contribution has come in the area of preservation of traditional Thumri, Dadra, Tappa, Hori, Chaiti and Ghazal and allied forms of music. She has represented India in Festivals Of India held in France & UK, given successful performances in several other countries, enjoying immense popularity in Pakistan, France and Japan from where her recordings on CDs, LPs and Cassettes have been released. Always seeking new frontiers of music, Prof. Rita Ganguly used the opportunity offered by the Ford Foundation Fellowship to “search for her musical roots, which were deep seated among the traditional singing women”. Detailed and scholarly interviews, two hundred hours of music on tape, and a revival of interest in the practitioners of this art were among the achievements of her research, while she was able to re-introduce Allahjillai, Asgari Begum, Gauri Bai to name a few eminent professional women musicians. Photo courtesy : Author

She is founder director of KALADHARMI, a 50 year old non-profit organisation promoting young talent, in the field of performing arts, especially music. She also founded BAAG (Begum Akhtar Academy Of Ghazals) the only Ghazal institution of its kind in the country dedicated to the promotion of Ghazal Gayaki.

Natyam in the Representation of the Sahityam of our Times Shovana Narayan (Padmashri & Sangeet Natak Akademi Awardee)

The dancer in performance - Set design - Naresh Kapuria, Photo courtesy : Author

The term Natya or Natyam literally stands for drama. In ancient India, the genre of drama also included nritya (dance) and sangeet (music). Hence in such a discourse on â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;natyamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; there would be inclusive discussions on theatre, musical, dance and dance enactments. The title of the article suggests those literary works of contemporary times that have lent themselves to dramatic interpretations. Such interpretations categorized under Kanta Sammit Updesh (sermonising using music and dance - appealing to the heart) by sages of yore, have been powerful mediums to reach the hearts of people. In this genre, three streams emerge; (i) literary works that have been written as dramas meant for stage productions (ii) those works such as poetry or prose that were not originally written as dramas but have found dramatic interpretations both within drama as well as in dance and (iii) works that have been written on the subject of performing arts. Themes that ignite the minds of performing artistes generally have been human emotions such as love, betrayal, death, nostalgia, romance, ambition, greed, lust, desire, inner turmoil, conflict between the individual and society, conflict with technology, caste and communal conflicts, patriotism and such others. The importance of performing arts in society are many and varied: (i) allowing the audience to experience situations portrayed on stage, thus allowing them to understand another viewpoint that he/she might not otherwise comprehend; (ii) helping to understand people and how they might be expected to react in certain situations; (iii) allowing expansion of personal space thus enabling transportation to another realm that the viewers may have only dreamt of, thus providing an avenue of escape from the humdrum and monotony of daily life.

Photo courtesy : Author

No wonder of the three types of communication Ved Sammit Updesh (sermons from the Vedas), Puran Sammit Updesh (sermonising from the Puranas etc. - involving discussions) and Kanta Sammit Updesh, this creative tool of performing arts (under Kanta Sammit Updesh) is therefore the most potent tool to reach the hearts and minds of the people! For convenience sake and to narrow down the time span, the period of twentieth and the beginning of twenty-first century forms the back drop of the discussion in this article. This was a period that was teeming with fervour of nationalism and patriotism, grappling with issues relating to search of identity, neo-romanticism, socio-political issues and injustices meted out by authorities and which are present within different layers of society including issues of gender oppression. Class conditions, resistance to consumerism found expression by contemporary poets in penning down the splendour of the common life. Simultaneously there has been a parallel quest for the metaphysical and philosophical aspects of life. Several works sought to contemporize epics and their characters. Therefore, poets like Ghalib, Mir, Kabir, Bihari and such others whose works still find impact on performing arts scene, have not been taken up for discussion. The canvas of contribution by literary giants dotting the Indian scene from the later part of first quarter of the 20th century till date, that have motivated the performing arts scene, be it theatre, films, musicals and dance renderings, is too vast. Therefore an illustrative snapshot can only be given in this article. 54

Contemporization of epics, history and social issues:

“Tasher Desh” (1933) was a musical play written for children that takes a satirical look at tyranny and regimentation and celebrates freedom of speech, thoughts and deeds. Inspired by the ascendance of Adolf Hitler, Tagore drew parallels between people so regimented that they had been reduced to playing cards - forever moving in rectangular patterns and happy with the resultant lack of chaos - subtly not only mirroring the dangers of Hitler’s Reich but also forewarning of such consequences within our own society. This play found universal appeal and lent itself to several dramatic interpretations in theatre and in dance.

Contemporization of the epics became a favourite for writers, poets and stage artistes wherein present day issues found parallels with characters and situation of the epics. Contemporary works highlighted several social ills that prevailed in society. The fact that these works still are popular fodder for performing artistes, reflects that nothing has changed in terms of social ills. In this journey, one of the earliest voices was that of Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore. He wrote poems, prose and dramatic works that mirrored the turmoil in society of that era. Tagore’s Trilogy of Dance Dramas “Chitrangada”, “Shyama” and “Chandalika” were trendsetters for they not only ushered in the genre of contemporary dance style by fusing Manipuri with contemporary dance movements, to create a style that came to be popularly known as Rabindra Natya.

But perhaps one of the most powerful plays of the 20th century was “Andha Yug” (1954) by Dharamvir Bharati. Set against the backdrop of the Mahabharata, this play has been described by Don Rubin in ‘The World Encyclopaedia of Contemporary Theatre: Asia’ as a “metaphoric meditation on the politics of violence and aggressive selfhood”. The play dwells on how war dehumanises individuals and society where all participants are eventually losers. The play reflected the turmoil that the country was and is going through. This play has inspired enactments by various theatre groups as also by various classical dancers.

Tagore’s one act play “Chitra” (1913) centres upon the character of Chitrangada, a female warrior in the Mahabharata epic who tries to attract the attention of Arjun. This dance drama with parts of it rendered through dance, dwells on the issue of woman emancipation. Dressing like a man, protector of her land, Chitrangada saves her kingdom from marauders and thus impresses Arjuna with her fighting skills and valour.

Once again, Mahabharata proved to be the inspiration for yet another literary work, “Rashmi Rathi” (1952) by Ramdhari Singh Dinkar who has been labelled as “Rashtra Kavi” (national poet) and a “poet of rebellion” consequent to his nationalist poems written in the days before Indian independence. Rashmi Rathi centres on Karna, the son of unwed Kunti, a son who seemed to have been “blessed by Gods but rejected by Destiny”. Here was a play with emotional depth dealing with complex human relationships and psychology that have found expression in several stage enactments.

Based on a Buddhist tale, ‘Chandalika’ (1938), centres round a low caste girl, who for that reason is thoroughly despised by her neighbours so much that even hawkers in the street would not sell their goods to her. The play deals with complexities of the human mind and its conflicting needs and wants.

The Ramayana and its less visited character, Urmila, wife of Lakshman, became the fodder for Maithili Sharan Gupt’s “Saket” (1932). Herein, Urmila’s pain, and even the repentance of Kaikeyi, have been portrayed on stage by artistes.

Similarly Tagore’s opera, “Valmiki Pratibha” (1881) dwells on the reformation of the ‘thug’ Ratnakara, who later became Sage Valmiki, author of Ramayana. 55

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Bridging characters of history and woman’s feelings, was the sacrifice and sorrow of “Yashodhara”, the wife of Lord Buddha, who was born into a luxurious life and yet who suffered all the torments of the discarded wife and single mother. In this epic poem written in the thirties of the last century, Maithili Sharan Gupt once again draws attention to a forgotten woman who in fact made history by donating her son Rahul to his father’s (Buddha) “sangha”. “Sakhi weh mujhse keh kar jaate, Keh toh kya mujhko weh apni path baadha hi pate? Mujhko bahut unhone maana, phir bhi kya poora pehchaana? Maine mukhya usi ko jaana, jo weh man mein laate, Sakhi weh mujhse keh kar jaate“ Yashodhara laments as to why he (Buddha ie husband Siddharth) did not confide in her before renouncing his home. Did he find her an obstacle in spite of her unconditional love for him? Did he really understand her - a person whose needs were his needs? 56

Munshi Premchand (1880-1936) whose real name was Dhanpat Rai, was a voice of the under-privileged and the down-trodden while also displaying acute insight into complex fabric of human emotions. The themes of his work, were as traditional as they were contemporary, that continue to resonate even 80 years after his death. After all they dealt with social ills such as family disputes, relationships and the deeply entrenched caste system, issues that are as relevant today as they were when the works were penned. No wonder his works are popular themes for stage and film adaptations! Jaishankar Prasad (1890-1937) was not only known for his great literary works in Hindi but was equally famous as a playwright. His plays “Skandagupta”, “Chandragupta” and “Dhruvaswamini” centred on mythical plots based on characters from ancient India. Mohan Rakesh (1925-1972) was a distinguished Hindi playwright and novelist. His play “Ashadh ka ek din” became a rage and has been staged by several directors to critical acclaim. This, a three-act play centers on Kalidas’ life (sometime in the 100BCE - 400CE period).

Patriotism and Nationalism: The spirit of patriotism and nationalism that had engulfed India from the second half of the nineteenth century, became manifest not only in literature but also in their artistic representations on stage. In undivided India of 1922, Kazi Nazrul Islam’s Bidrohi set the stage for several stage enactments as the poem while celebrating creative powers called for rebellion against all forms of oppression including that of the Colonial rulers. But perhaps one of the most popular resistance poems glorifying a courageous woman and her sacrifice igniting several stage renderings as ballads, opera, and in dance was Subhadra Kumari Chauhan’s “Jhansi ki Rani” that had been penned in the thirties of the 20th century. In southern India, it was Subrahmaniam Bharathi, whose fiery poems and songs, kindling patriotism and nationalism during Indian Independence movement, have formed subjects for dance renderings.

Romanticism, Human Emotions and Feminine Voices: Stage renderings have always been attracted to delineating complex human issues and emotions. In a way this genre of literary works can be said to be an ever-green staple diet of the performing artists. Names of several litterateurs emerge such as Jaishankar Prasad, Suryakant Tripathi ‘Nirala’, Mahadevi Varma, Sumitranandan Pant, Munshi Premchand, Firaq Gorakhpuri, and Amrita Pritam to name a few. In fact the first four (namely Prasad, Nirala, Varma and Pant) are regarded as the four great pillars of Chhayavaad (neo-romantic) genre. Jaishankar Prasad’s “Kamayani” is considered one of the greatest works of the Chhayavaad genre that has lent itself to several stage productions. Based around the great deluge, it is an interplay of human emotions, thoughts, and actions by taking mythological metaphors through Vedic characters - Manu, Ida and Shraddha. 57

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Firaq Gorakhpuri, whose real name was Raghupati Sahay (1896-1982) has been described by Gopi Chand Narang, as “a poet of the labyrinths of emotions, the sensuousness and transcendence of beauty”. He was considered to be one of the most influential pre-modern poets who paved the way for the modern Urdu ghazal, many of which lent themselves to stage renderings.

“Bahut pehle se un qadmon ki aahat jaan lete hain, Tujhe ai zindagi hum door se pehchan let e hain” said Firaq From the faint sound of your footsteps, long before your arrival, I recognise you from afar - you who are my life and love!

Mahadevi Varma (1911-1987) was a poetess of the Chhayavaad (neo romanticism) genre whose works such as “Yama” have become staple diet for several stage enactments through dance such as “main neer bhari dukh ki badli”, “madhurmadhur mere deepak jal”, etc. Her personal life that was full of pain, anguish and nonfulfilment, saw reflection in her sensitive poems that were lapped up by dancers in their stage presentations.

of total subjectivity measured against the vastness of cosmic nature with nothing, as it were, intervening — no human social relationships, no human activities beyond those totally metaphorical ones involving weeping, walking the road, playing the vina, etc.” Amrita Pritam (1919–2005) is most remembered for her poignant poem, “Ajj aakhan Waris Shah nu”, an elegy to the 18th century Punjabi poet. It is an expression of her anguish over massacres during the partition. Several of her works have found expression on stage through plays and also as films.

She has been best described by American novelist and translator, David Rubin in his essay “The Return of Saraswati” as follows: “What arrests us in Mahadevi’s work is the striking originality of the voice and the technical ingenuity which enabled her to create in her series of mostly quite short lyrics, throughout her five volumes, a consistently evolving representation

Giving feminine voices was not only Mahadevi Varma, but also Padma Sachdev, Anamika, Savita Singh and others.

In one of her poems ‘Whose Woman Am I’, Savita Singh asks the question ‘Whose woman am I?’ which she herself answers in the following words: I’m no one’s woman, I’m my own woman I eat my own food, I eat when I like to eat I do not take beatings from anyone And, no one is my Lord. What more poignancy, feelings and subtlety can a stage artiste ask for! 59

Several decades later, Mahesh Dattani, in his play “Dance like a Man” suggests that a man is supposed to do the work which suits the man and not pursue a career such as classical dance that would seemingly make him less of a man. The play reflects upon the mind-set of society regarding careers and interests. This play fired the imaginations of all artistes and saw staging by various theatre groups and also adaptations in dance as dance dramas.

Mysticism, Metaphysical Aspects of Life Indian art including performing arts have always had a strong spiritual base. But “spirituality” is a term that is often used vaguely to refer to an attitude or approach toward life that involves a search for meaning. Herein, reaching of ultimate reality through subjective experience and exploration of fundamental questions have fascinated poets through time immemorial. These exploratory outpourings have also impacted stage presentations by dancers and theatre artistes. Madhushala (1935) meaning The Tavern of Wine, part of the trilogy (other two being Madhubala and Madhukalash) is a master piece by Dr. Harivansh Rai Bachchan. Written in quatrains, the poem, an important landmark in the field of Neo-romanticism (“Chhayavaad”), is a metaphorical work with deep Sufi philosophical undertones. This has found popular translation on stage not only by poets but by dancers from the classical Kathak genre. Setting the ball rolling are the following opening lines: Mridu bhavon ke angooron ki aaj banaa laaya haala, Priyatam, apne hi haathon se aaj pilaoonga pyaala My love, I bring to you wine with grapes of tender thoughts

Speaking of hypocrisy of society and the uniting force of the wine that breaks down community and caste barriers he says: “Musalman aur Hindu hain do, ek, magar unka pyaala, ek, magar, unka madiralaya, ek, magar, unki haala, donon rehtein ek na jab tak masjid mandir mein jaate, bair badhate mandir, mel karaati madhushaala“ Muslims and Hindus are two but their wine goblet is one It is the same tavern and it is the same wine As long as they are in their respective places of worship they are two, But in the tavern, they become one with the uniting force of wine The prose “Mera Safar” by Ali Sardar Jafri (1913-2000) is yet again a reflection of philosophy and metaphysical questions on life. Dwelling on the innate desire of every person to be immortal, despairing the thought of old age and death, returns to an optimistic tone, while asserting his return in the varied forms of nature. The poem has seen several stage interpretations with one of them being interpreted from a dancer’s perspective who realizes the onset of old age but sees in her disciples, the carriers of her art and effectively a medium, which would make her eternal. Few excerpts from his immortal poem are as follows: “phir ik din aisa ayega, aankhon ke diye bujh jayenge... Har cheez bhula di jayegi yaadon ke haseen but khaane se, Har cheez utha di jayegi, phir koi nahi ye poochhega“sardar kahaan hai mehfil mein”... Mai sota hoon aur jagta hoon, aur jaag ke phir so jaata hoon, sadiyon ka purana khel hoon mai, mai mar ke amar ho jaata hoon” That day will come without fail:the lamps of the eyes will go out... Every cherished thing will go, plucked, from memory’s fine pagan shrine. And then no friend will ask a friend:“Why don’t we see Sardar today?”... I sleep and wake up as I go, I wake and fall asleep as fast, a centuries-old game: the breath of immortality in death. Gopaldas Neeraj (born 1925) is well-known for his highly lyrical and sensitive poems, many of which have been performed by dancers, such as “Khag udte rehna Jeevan bhar” – a poem that exhorts facing challenges and obstacles with courage. Many of his songs and poems have been featured in Hindi films as well. One of the most haunting poems is “kaarvan guzar gaya gubar dekhte rahe”. Many works of Dogri writer Padma Sachdev (born 1940) have found film and stage adaptations while some like Uttar Vahini have also found expression in dance.

Later works of contemporary poets have sought to reflect impact of globalization, economic liberalisation and privatisation that have led to mass discontent and anti-human conditions, thus highlighting the travesties and lives of ordinary people. In this genre of new poetry are poets such as Javed Akhtar, Ashok Vajpayee to name a few who have ventured into deep waters to seek a vision of life while attempting to preserve sensibility of art forms by resisting state aggression. More than dance, these poems have found expression in theatrical presentations. Translation of an excerpt from one of Ashok Vajpayeeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s poems is given below: We are saved from the shames That we have not kept silent After holding the front or losing it Neither have we surrendered nor compromised We fought, lost and have barely survived This hardly is a heroic tale. If the poems have changed so have the styles of stage representations. While classical dance styles have included contemporary poems for delineation, several dancers have used mixed medium of dance styles to create a new language of expression expressing the thoughts of contemporary literature.

Dancer Shovana Narayan with actor Sunit Tandon as Draupadi and Yudhishtar based on Pavan Varmaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s book, Yudhishtar and Draupadi Photo courtesy : Author

Contemporization, both in terms of literary content and in stage interpretations, act as barometers of changing ideas and changing times. After all, performing arts are the physical expression of creativity of human society and cultures and a reflection of changing times.

Shovana Narayan is Indiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s topmost Kathak dancer, whose every fibre of the body lives and breathes dance. A consummate artiste and choreographer, revered guru to her disciples and an intellectual, she combines artistry with keen observation and humanism. In her career spanning over five and a half decades she has mesmerized her audiences all over the world, at prestigious national and international festivals. She has been conferred with several awards, outstanding among which are the Padmashri in 1992, for excellence and outstanding contributions to dance, the Sangeet Natak Akademi Award in 2001 (both awards are given by the President of India), the Delhi Governmentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Parishad Samman and the Bihar Governmentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

Gaurav

Samman. Charting new paths, she is perhaps the only example of a person who has relentlessly pursued two parallel exacting professional careers, as a civil servant (Indian Audits and Account Service, 1976 batch) and as a renowned Kathak Dancer-Guru, achieving distinction and great heights in both. A keen researcher and scholar, she has 14 book publications and numerous articles to her credit. Her keen interest in research has led to the discovery of eight Kathak villages in eastern Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. She is also a visiting lecturer to several Universities in India and abroad. She is a classic example of a true Kathak dancer, multi-faceted and dynamic, and constantly challenges her spectators. She is a role model and inspiration for millions of girls of the younger generation of today.

A shringarik pose in Kathak Photo courtesy : Author

The Essentiality of Abhyas in Natyam Navtej Johar

As an embodied practitioner of both Bharatanatyam and yoga, I am often asked, “how many hours do you practice?”, or people often exclaim, “it must be bloody tough work!”, “badi tapasya hai, asli sadhana hai!” Yes, that is one way of looking at it. There is, and has always been, an orthodox school of Indian thought that does view practice necessarily as tapas, i.e. unflinching discipline and dogged commitment to a doctrine in pursuit of “self-perfection”. There are however other options of practicing too that are not self-perfecting but self-reflexive, and I personally view my practice or abhyasa, as self-reflexive and distinctly different from tapas. This difference lies in the ways the goal, the processes and the purpose of the form may be defined. Whether the goal is prescribed or is open to discovery; whether the process is regimented or can be intuitive; and whether the purpose of the form is to instruct and project or to suggest. I would like to talk here about abhyasa, or praxis, from the perspectives of both, dance and yoga, my twin practices, because they are not only intermittent in my case but also greatly influence and define each other. I also pay special attention to how I define or understand these practices, because definitions can pre-script and prescribe the parameters of possibilities obtained within these forms. And to me, both dance and yoga, being practices that employ the unpredictable, insightful and infinitely sensitive body, harbour possibilities that may far exceed the predetermined projections and ideas attributed to them by popular convention.

Navtej Johar in Meenakshi, Photo credit : Anshuman Sen

appetites slowly turning inward, seeking resonance, in which we may be able to recognize traces of our innate, ordinary and humanly fragile and sensitive selves? It is such a climate of attitudes - both fixed and shifting towards the body, that informs the pedagogy, practice and presentation of our embodied practices within India today.

Words are not fixed entities. They can keep getting layered and their signification may change within the constructs of historical time. Post Renaissance, the industrial revolution, the advent of the machine, plus colonisation, the idea of “tempering” the body may have gathered additional layers of meaning. On the one hand, the body now has perforce been thrown into competition with the exactitude and metallic-precision of the machine; it has had to contend with the stoic discipline and self-restraint of the spectacularly regimented and militarized body; it is up against the overpowering Cartesian logic of “mind-over-body” that is puritan and body-dismissive; and its value is contingent upon the production-generating concepts of industry which routinely get galvanised by slogans like, “practice makes perfect”, “work is worship”, “no pain, no gain”, “aaram haram hai”, or (alas) “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak”.

In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali offers abhyasa as the very first proposition to attain the goal of yoga. However, he proposes it very tightly in conjunction with vairagya, or detachment. The sutra, abhyāsa - vairāgya ābhyāṁ tan-nirodhaḥ (1.12), is a terse utterance, made in as though in a single breath, clubbing the practice and its governing attitude. He defines abhyāsa as an extended, uninterrupted, repeated practice that is marked by consistency, respectful attitude, and firm focus; and vairagya as dispassionate engagement that can be achieved either by wilful refraining or subduing of the senses (vashi-kar), or else through the disabling of trishna, the drive or thirst of the tri-gunas that fuels all thought and action. The tri-gunas being the three “tendencies” that constitute all matter, including the body/mind, namely the two oppositional forces of tamas and rajas, plus sattva, or the tendencies of sloth, over-drive and lucidity respectively. Interestingly, all three pertain to movement. Whereas tamas resists movement, rajas cannot stop or withhold movement, thus, the two constitute the basic human dilemma of “to move, or not to move”. In fact, the two can form a gridlock and arrest the mind within a self-perpetuating loop of repeated patterns of compulsive behaviours. A carefully designed abhyasa can effectively energize, and thereby mobilise the tamas, while the vairagya may restrain and contain the overdrive of rajas. This may result in the easing and opening of the gridlock formed by these oppositional forces and allow for the sattva, that is buoyant in nature, to be released and rise to bring calm, contentment and clarity. Thus, the aim of abhyasa, as I see it, is not self-perfection, that being highly ambitious, but clarity and contentment; and to these I also add, subtility, beauty, resonance

The bar of the “perfected” body is not only raised to match the machine, but also embody the theatrics of steely stoicism to wilfully exceed the vulnerabilities of its own humanness, subscribe righteously to its own undermining, and most of all, become an instrument of production - be it that of a product or an image of aesthetic, cultural, religious, economic or political value. Further, the 19th century ushers in the age of stardom that valorised a prototype of high-level virtuosity: indefatigable bodies performing gravitydefying feats of soaring up to the skies with birdlike ease or performing, at break-neck speeds, with mechanical precision, against all elemental odds. However, today, even as their numbers grow and “rock stars” continue to exploit their physical faculties with unimaginable, technical wizardry, the appetite for such “marvellous” and “impressive” spectacle seems to be reaching a saturation point. A gradual, palpable shift is taking place in our appetites. Could it be that we have become jaded, spoilt-for-perfection, are not so easily impressed any more, or are we becoming less and less enamoured of nature-defying bodily feats? And are our 66

Dancer Navtej Johar in Mango Cherry Mix, Photo credit : Amar Khoday

and preeti or loveliness. These may emerge insightfully through processes that are both non-ambitious and self-distilling, as opposed to self-perfecting, and aim at arriving at an experience within, rather than pursue an external ideal of perfection, be it moral or physical.

erasure of its ambition, becoming an inward-looking practice, making the external form incidental, even if meticulous. The quality of yatna or the tenacious push and pull within, is subtly palpable and may lend an “ambiance”to the practice, an ambiance that is sensible to the viewing eye and ear. In other words, the embodied abhyasa-with-vairagya becomes delicately awash, aglow and alive, with “a quality”. And this quality may be infinitely refined and further distilled through a self-erasing process. In real terms, it entails respectful and percolative processes, doing, nondoing, and self-seeing. While the doing may entail the repetition of carefully crafted routines of trial-anderror along with simultaneous self-observation, the non-doing lies in the passive absorption of the stilling after effects of the mindfully calibrated movements be it of the body, breath, gaze, sound, speech, imagery, attention, imagination and so on.

Thus, this twinness of abhyasa-vairgya that pertains within the practice warrants a calibration, and the aim of the practice becomes defined, not by what is externally produced but by the quality of effort or yatna that may be internally employed to delicately temper and twine the oppositional forces. Patanjali makes haste to state this in the next sutra: tatrasthitaoyatnoabhyasaha - 1.13, meaning that that it is within the cusp of the two, abhyasa-vairagya, that there lies, delicately poised, yatna or qualitative effort. An effort whose quality shall pervade both the inside and the outside! Abhyasa thus comes to silently imply the very 67

Abhyasa, though initially guided, in its final analysis becomes self-regulatory and thereby autonomy-generating. It eventually aims at achieving a delicate internal balance that only the practitioner can internally sense, gauge and calibrate. It therefore involves the honing of that intuitive sense of “rightness” from within. A “rightness” that is not determined by how the external form looks but by the delicacy and integrity of the yatna employed, and furthermore, by how it may elicit sensitive responses from within the body. Abhyasa can, therefore, become a practice in recognising, appreciating and absorbing the involuntary nuances of the body. And as a viewer, it is finally the sensitive and nuanced responses of the body that I wish to witness. It is this that will satisfy my human, aesthetic and poetic longing. Words such as mastery, showmanship, stardom, virtuosity, discipline, siddhi, perfection, spectacular, especially as used and understood within the modern milieu, are all externally projective, ambitious and even aggressive. And these have come to define and describe the practice of Indian classical dance, today. However, I find them essentially antithetical to abhyasa, which by definition is self-reflexive, self-erasing, and by nature super-subtle. Thus, when talking of abhyasa, particularly in reference to natya or in particular to classical Indian dance, I call into question the pedagogy, socio-cultural values, and criteria of appreciation that we have put into place over the last hundred or so years in our attempt to reconstruct, revive and popularize these traditional forms. For this we have to become willing to doubt and be emotionally-honest, in order to examine the motivations that led to the reconstruction, revival, and popularisation of the form. Or in other words, be ready to critique the history of the revised form. Since independence, Indian dance has been chauvinistically flaunted as the emblem of high-culture and national pride (and currently even more parochially, as Hindu pride!). Though, a little closer look at its flip side will reveal that the history of our dance is steeped in cultural shame. It wasn’t too long before the revival of the dance, that we, as colonial subjects, were fiercely admonished and shamed by the British for our paradoxical practices that had existed for centuries 68

Navtej Johar in the Somatics showcase that he does at Abhyas, Photo credit : Simrat Dugal

With the traditional performers side-lined and their lived-histories undermined and obliterated, the reformists, created yet another trope, that of reauthenticating these appropriated embodied practices by aligning them to an “original” text and overriding the centuries-long, tried and tested, abhyasa, of the traditional practitioners. The written word takes ceremonious predominance over embodied practice and image comes to overrule experience. In short, it is within this historical time that the “idea” comes to rule the roost and is privileged over lived experience.

within premodern India. The sacred/profane devadasi, a pleasure woman officially employed in the service of our gods was “shocking” to puritanical European sensibilities. The Abbe Dubois, who in “Description of the Character, Manners and Customs of the People of India, and of their Institutions, religious and civil” (London, 1816), (1) described the devadasis as “strumpets... who opened their halls of infamy and converted the temple into a stew after their religious services were over.” And he continued to call Hinduism the most “degenerate religion in the world”. Almost a century later, there launched a vociferous anti-nautch movement in Southern India with the bid to wipe this “blot” off the Hindu consciousness, leading to the signature campaigns and the eventual abolishing of the devadasi system in 1947. The appropriation of their traditional dance by the Brahmin elite was mobilized by a sweeping narrative that was floated by Annie Besant, the President of the Theosophical Society as well as Indian National Congress. In one fabricated and sweeping statement, she defended the purity of Hindu religion and axed the devadasi tradition by declaring that the devadasis were originally meant to be like chaste Catholic nuns dedicated to the service of the Lord, and now, that they had lost their chastity, they in principle had lost their rightful station in the temple, and subsequently, in society.(2) This ingenious defence was not only historically unsound, but also as judgmental and moralistic as the vehement Abbe. And though it served as an effective face-saving devise to an India transitioning into modern nationhood, it restored the idea of India for all times to come, to Victorian morality. To this day, this alien puritanism is being violently thrust into our faces as original Hindu morality. As long as India remains locked in this bind of “appearances” which are principally false, there is little room or permission within our national narrative to become self-reflexive. We have all become subjects of the production, policing, reinventing, and defending of projective, self-aggrandizing, moralistic stances, and the classical Indian dancer is at the helm of this brigade.

Both traditional dance and yoga meet with similar fates. Vivekananda vehemently rejects the practice of the hatha yogis (3) and aligns the practice of yoga to the Yoga Sutras in his Raja Yoga, and Rukmini Devi refashions dance as per the Natya Sastra at the cost of selectively dismissing the lived practice of the devadasi. Thus, we cannot forget that the narrative that informs the earnest revival, reconstruction and popularization of dance as chaste, moral, and unambiguously-sacred, as opposed to being paradoxically sacred/profane, has to be seen in reference to our collective glossing over a lived history and replacing it with one that is imagined and fabricated. We also cannot overlook that Indian classical dance, particularly Bharatanatyam, has been and remains an intrinsic component of such a national project. And thus, it is a stance! It is a means to project a predetermined, fabricated, carefully censored image of India. By its very definition it is representational and not meant to self-reflect. In fact, it cannot even accommodate any curiosity pertaining to self - personal or collective. And thus, as long as we are training to prepare bodies to assume a select and censored stance, reinforce a categorical value, and pursue the perfection of an ideal that is both orchestrated and predetermined, we cannot call it art practice, but a production! Training thus has become focused on the bettering, mastering and perfecting the skills employed in the production of these images, but it still remains a production. It is and 70

cannot be confused with creation. It is a production for the sake of producing and circulating select images, messages, and values that will in turn reinforce the idea that underlies and propels its production. This type of production-driven practice is unrelentingly ambitious and un-reflexive, and lies in grave contrast to the delicacy and “honesty” of abhyasa, that seeks to erase its own ambition.

Only I, the first person-singular being, am equipped to register, recognize and absorb my sensitivity in all its subtle fullness. It is a sensitivity that is for me to own in my body. As an embodied practitioner, I don’t represent my sensitivity nor the poetic images that are emerging out of my body, but I am present in them as they are present in me. I then don’t trade in received-images but embodied images that I have authored, mined and farmed within the field of my material body, mind and spirit. The idea of “pure” tradition that the classical Indian dancer has to uphold and preserve, leaves no space for the generation of self-authorship, or real embodiment. To me Indian dance, unfortunately, has become a masterful show-and-tell routine of received images and ideas in which the body, its possibilities, intelligence or sensitivity, does not count.

The word, abhyasa, is made up of abhi + aa + as + ghain. While abhi and aa both indicate a desirable, forwarding process, as, amongst other things, may mean gati, deepti and dana, making abhyasa progressive, illuminating, and yielding respectively (ghain is a technical appendage used to end the word with a vowel). The gift of ongoing lucidity is thus the promise of abhyasa. And as it is essentially a selfregulatory practice, I, the practitioner, must then be intrinsic and integral to the practice, i.e. my “I-ness” ever remains at its centre, because it is from here that I delicately self-calibrate the yatna as well as receive its after effects. The trajectory of abhyasa is then that a self-regulated and progressive practice of tempering the materiality of my body, distilling it from gross to subtle, or from literality to abstraction, leading unto lucidity, sensitivity, even poetry.

The reconstructed narrative of classical Indian dance is rigid and fixed, it does not, rather cannot allow for self-reflection, and thereby cannot allow the practitioner, the abhyasee, to stand at the centre of my practice. With the dancer being viewed as a cultural ambassador of the Indian national project, the practice is relegated to the propagation of highly policed, received-truths. This runs the risk of making the classical Indian dancer not an artist, but a cultural propagandist. One who cannot occupy his/her own center as it is already occupied by an internalized, indoctrinated, inscrutable “lofty” idea. How I see it is that as a serious embodied practitioner, my body is first and foremost my medium of knowing and absorbing, and not showing or telling. And therefore, I detect a conflict of interests within a self-reflexive and creative embodied practice and the very idea of performance as it has been historically come to be defined with the national Indian project. A no-holds-barred self-

1. A work that was bought by the East India Company for twenty thousand francs and printed at their expense to serve as an introductory text for their young officers recruited to operate in India. 2. Soneji, Davesh. 2012. Unfinished Gestures: Devadasis, Memory, and Modernity in South India. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, pages 122- 123. 3. Singleton, Mark. 2010. Yoga Body: The Origins of Modern Posture Practice. New York: Oxford University Press, page 118.

reflection warrants the permission to doubt, ponder, question, challenge, postulate and enquire into the various possibilities and dimensions of the materiality at hand. And this can also exceed into the materiality of history, the motivations, goals, processes and the form of the practice. That is what makes the practitioner a detached, vairagya practitioner; dispassionate or indifferent to the agendas that might have been inscribed into the form, and equally uninvested in subscribing to the stance and labels that the form might impose, expect or predispose me to. As the appetite for resonance and poetic resolve slowly comes to rise, like I sense and detect that it might be, I hope the classical Indian dancer will look inward to discover the inherent abhyasa-vairagya dynamics embedded within the form and allow for self-reflection to emerge. The reason I resort to focusing so much on history while talking of abhyasa is because how we define or imagine a form has a direct, if not an authoritative, bearing on how we practice, teach, read, present, and view that practice. My abhyasa of both dance and yoga today has come to intrinsically include the critique of history, both political and philosophical. I include the philosophical, because alongside the re-fabrication of a historical past there has also been a systematic move within Indian philosophy of slowly sidelining materialist philosophies that have a direct bearing on embodied practice, and the privileging of idealist doctrines that fall more within the gamut of a variety of doctrines that could even be bodydismissive, thus undermining of both lived histories and self-reflexive abhyasa.

Navtej Johar - Contemporary Dance Photo credit : Pradeep Dasgupta

To conclude, I would like to reiterate that abhyasa cannot be confused with a lage-rahoMunna-bhai kind of dogged practice. It is by its very nature intelligence, sensitivity, intuition and permission-generating, and it is real for anyone who is willing to approach the material body and history with an open mind. To me Indian dance pedagogy is so far not an abhyasa; and it will not become one till we stop mistaking India with the idea of India that was fabricated as we turned Modern. For me abhyasa requires, that along with my personal, carefully calibrated, self-reflexive, insightgenerating practice, I also critically look at our dance, its pedagogy, its neo-aesthetic, its pop-spirituality, and exhibitionistic modes of presentation with detachment, from one-removed, and in the process, wrest open for myself a ponderous breathing-space to entertain doubt, misgiving and wonder. I strongly propose the inclusion of the critique of our nationalist history as well as the history of philosophy as an intrinsic part of dance pedagogy. Because otherwise, our practice will be hard-put to go beyond how we define and imagine it. For starters it may help to remember that as art-makers our job is not to be the cross-bearers of a received “idea”, no matter how lofty, and that beauty, insight, resonance and autonomy are intrinsically and undeniably entwined.

Navtej

Singh

Johar

dancer-

choreographer, scholar, yoga exponent, and a social activist. A recipient of the Sangeet

Natak

Akademi

award

for

Contemporary Choreography, 2014, his work - within all fields of his varied interests - remains consistently body-centric. His choreography draws on plural vocabularies: Bharatanatyam, Yoga, Physical Theatre and Somatics and has won critical acclaim both nationally and internationally. A research fellow at the International Research Centre, “Interweaving

Performance

Cultures”,

Freie University, Berlin; Johar teaches Dance Studies at the Ashoka University, India; is the founder-director of Studio Abhyas, New Delhi, and the Poorna Center for Embodied Arts, Ann Arbor, MI, USA.

Photo courtesy : The Friday Time

The Natyam that must be done: Plastic arts & performance that responds to our times Sunil Mehra The question? What prompted a middle aged journalist / curator / documentary filmmaker / television producer/ author / yoga teacher/ one time Professor of literature in English, turn to Dastangoi? In Urdu? Seemingly whimsical choice, that... Many reasons… The first: a passion for languages, specifically Urdu. This was the surround sound of my growing up years in what seems now like another time, another country. Growing up in a home where syncretism was not political shibboleth, slogan, emblem but a reflex. One grew up in a home where language was a doorway to beauty, to another world, another way of living and being and conducting yourself. NOT a value. It was never “dekhiye hamara Baccha kitni aachi angrezi bolta hai”. Instead one was always told “Jo bhi Zubaan bolo, saaf bolo”. One grew up in a surround sound of delicious Urdu, lilting idiomatic Hindi with the charming UP inflection that came courtesy my Lucknow / U.P. domiciled dad, some robust earthy Multani courtesy my Punjabi mom, and of course Hindi and English which was my spoken language through eleven years of Jesuit school. I was rich: reveling early in the Zauq, Mir, Ghalib, Faiz, whose couplets my father’s friends’ conversations were peppered with, responding intuitively to the lyric appeal of Bulle Shah, Waris Hussain, Sahir Ludhianvi, Amrita Pritam’s poetry that my mother reveled in; delighting in the music and majesty of Shakespeare, the whimsy of Wodehouse courtesy my superlative teachers in school who introduced me early to the romance of the English language.

Sunil Mehra Dastangoi pics, Photo courtesy: Author

Looking back today it feels like I was raised in mythical Krypton. We live today in an environment where one searches for answers to explain the illogic that “others” people, languages, cultures. Where a cow is Hindu, a goat is Muslim / where Urdu is Muslim, Hindi is Hindu / where to fall in line with the prevailing doctrine is “national”, to express doubt / disagree, is to be “Urban naxalite” or “anti national”, where people can riot / rape / loot / pillage / vandalize / murder at will because someone’s “sentiments are hurt”. Dabri, Kairana, Muzaffarnagar, the burning of a whole Muslim village in Gujarat over a skirmish between two children of different communities, the recent and ongoing convulsions at JNU, Hyderabad, Allahabad Universities, the stone pelting at Delhi’s Ramjas college, the mind numbing rape of a hapless seven year old child at Kathua to “discourage” a certain community of shepherds from coming to a region, the embrace of mythology as history, the Ghar wapsi’s, the love jihads, a newly minted CM who endorses “revenge” necrophilia, sex with the corpses of Muslim women.... Jingoism, chauvinism, aggressive advocacy of medievalist patriarchal mindsets intent on subjugating women / minorities, conscious and deliberately engineered “othering” of communities; whether social / religious/ political or sexual... blinkered religious nationalism seems to be the order of the day. Urdu and what was being done to it as part of a nefarious, ill conceived, illogical, diabolical, perverted “national” agenda particularly disturbed me deeply. A language was ascribed a topi (skull cap), a beard, a religion! Ridiculous! Languages didn’t belong to religions. Rather, they belonged to regions. How else would you account for 10 crore Bangladesh Muslims rooting for being taught Bengali, not Urdu, in their country? How could we forget this was one of the more emotive issues that led to Bangladesh’s rupture with Pakistan. The problem obviously lay with newly sundered nation states like India looking for a “national” language in a country of 1.25 billion people who speak 22 languages (these are the “officially” recognised languages; as opposed to 758 other document spoken languages!) and are, ironically enough, intelligible to each other only in an alien, imported tongue: English! You could divide land / populations / assets but a language? How would you divide a common language: as in you keep the verbs, I keep the nouns?!!! Urdu was the language not of a caste / community / religion but a people. A language that was birthed in Delhi / Haryana / Uttar Pradesh region; an indigenous amalgam of Persian, desi khari boli and Hindi that became the lingua franca of the common people. Persian remained the language of the courts: Mughal / Rajput / Maratha / the Qutubshahi kingdoms of the south, but at the same time around the mid / late 19th century, Urdu became the chosen vehicle of poets like Ghalib, Mir, Sauda, Be Dil, Zauq and a phalanx of literary giants who eschewed Persian for this more “connected” language of their soil, their people. 76

Photo courtesy: Author

Indeed some of the towering talents of Urdu poetry were Hindus. Daya Shankar “Naseem” wrote one of the three most respected masnavi’s (epic tales) of Urdu literature - the Gulzar e Naseem; Raghupati Sahay, better known as Firaq Gorakhpuri was arguably one of the finest poets of the Indian subcontinent after Ghalib, Zauq and Mir. Premchand wrote prolifically in Urdu as did radical writers like Krishen Chander, Rajinder Singh Bedi, Darshan Duggal, Upendra Nath Ashk, Malik Ram, Pandit Brijmohan Kaifi, Krishan Adeeb, Manmohan Talkh, Anand Mohan Zutshi, Gulzar.... the names are legion. One of the most authoritative chroniclers of Urdu and Lucknow was Pandit Ratan Nath! Over time Urdu became the language of the ruling Muslim elite and of course the Hindu elite. Dogged attempts to ascribe religion / religiosity to the language seemed absurd considering this was the one language in which some of the most anti Islamic / anti religion / anti fundamentalist verses were composed! Sample this one by Chand Qaimpuri in which the poet lampoons the believer making his way to the Kaaba astride a donkey (this was in the days before Saudi Arabia became the land of expressways and limousines and donkeys / camels were the sole means of transport across Arabian sands) to the Kaaba where, the poet implies, a whole congregation of donkeys awaits! 77

Pehle hi gadha miley jahaan Sheikh Us Kaabey ko hai salaam apna Ie Oh Sheikh, tis the donkey I first encounter As I make my way to pay obeisance to the Kaaba!!! Or this by Mir Taqui Mir: Tujh ko masjid hai, mujhko maikhana Waiza apni apni qismat hai Ie You got the masjid; the pub is what I got Ah well, thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the way it goes: to each his lot! Or this lacerating one by Jaun Eliya : Rakho dair o haram ko ab muqqafil Kai pagal yahan se bhag nikley Leave the portals of this place of worship unguarded no more Innumerable lunatics have escaped this shore! Or this absolutely blasphemous couplet by Ghalib: Maqsood dard e dil hai - na Islam hai na kufr Phir har gale mein subha o zunnar kyon na ho? The bond of love is all - Islam and unbelief are nothing Take rosary and sacred cord and wear them in your neck

Photo courtesy : Author

More significantly this was the language of subversion / rebellion: inquilab! During the reign of one of the last Mughal kings his most acerbic critic, the poet Jaffer, was hung as he did not desist from mocking him in his verse despite repeat warnings. The British, during 1857, did not hang mutineers / soldiers alone but also poets like Munir and Sehbai who wrote scathing, incendiary verse against the colonial masters. And yet Urdu and everything else one believed in as integral to the country; values we hailed as foundational principles of both beloved country and constitution were being undermined on an almost daily basis.

Photo courtesy : Author

Apocalyptic times where one is given to despair. Where are we heading? “This has NEVER happened before”, we kept saying to each other in disbelief. Some of us poured out our anguish in op-ed columns; others raged in the echo chambers of social media, public / civil discourse with great help from paid trolls plumbed new depths. Media sounded and continues to sound like an HMV LP. Asked to bend in 1975, they crawled. Fast forward to 2014-18: barring honorable “anti national” exceptions, the rest lay on their backs kicking their paws up in the air for their new political masters. Any fledgling doubts on that score were summarily laid to rest with the recent Cobrapost expose that exposed the brazen, overt collusion of the media with the government. A depressing scenario where the government was conflated with the nation! Venting my rage on social media as was my wont yielded no answers. Only more frustration followed. Reading a book on Dastangoi by Mehmood Farooqui, a performer I respect, whose talent I hugely revere, whose intellect I admire, offered direction: he’d brilliantly used the format as a tool to inform, question, challenge, rebel. Dastangoi was a powerful political tool in his hands: using historical narrative, anecdote, memoirs, she crafted masterful subversive contemporary Dastans that challenged every prevailing orthodoxy. Dastan e Sedition, Dastan e Taqsim e Hind and more recently Dastan e Karn az Mahabharat speak with lacerating directness of the deviousness, the manipulation, the betrayal of the people by the State. He put me in the mind of the Shakspearean joker who even as he entertained and regaled his audience, called out falsehood, cant, duplicity, spoke truth to power. As a student of literature it’s clear to me that the cataclysm we’re experiencing today is mere repeat: such upheavals have always been a part of the cycles of history. How have we dealt with those upheavals? What are the lessons we could learn? They too are right there between the pages of books: chronicles of our times, repositories of our collective wisdom even as we foolishly blunder ahead, uncaring, unmindful, oblivious. The answers are all there in our stories: we just stopped listening / looking / reading. I found my answer in the stories of Ismat Chugtai: free radical, unbounded spirit, perpetual in-yourface detractor of patriarchy / tyrannical societal norm / social and political inequity. Tales like Gharwali, Mughal Baccha, Niwala, Nanhee Ki Nani, Lihaaf, became my vehicles of protest, subversion, satire. And personal redemption. The Dastango today is not unlike the Shakespearean clown: speaking truth to power in the Age of Post Truth. For me, it’s a wonderful format to deliver powerful, often incendiary, very often uncomfortable, socio-political messages that will, hopefully, resonate even as I tickle and entertain my audience A Brechtian character says, and I paraphrase: But in the dark times will there be singing and dancing? Yes There will be singing and dancing About the dark times....

DASTANGOI Dastangoi is a 16th century Urdu oral storytelling art form. The art form was revived in 2005 and has been performed in India, Pakistan, United States and other parts of the world. At the centre of Dastangoi is the Dastango, or storyteller, whose voice is his main artistic tool in orally recreating the dastaan or the story. The early Dastango’s told tales of magic, war and adventure, and borrowed freely from other stories such as the Arabian Nights, storytellers such as Rumi, and storytelling traditions such as the Panchatantra. A tradition of the Persian courts it was brought into India by the Mughals who aspired to the cultural ideal represented by the Persian court whether in dress, deportment, language, cuisine, art and culture. The Dastangos thrived in the Mughal courts till the tumult and destruction and the virtual decimation of the Mughal dynasty in the wake of the 1857 uprising. Robbed of the patronage of the Mughal courts and nobility the Dastangos migrated to Oudh which was fast emerging an an alternative power and cultural epicenter under the Mughal Governor General Safdarjung. Interestingly enough the form now mutated and from Persian / Urdu, Dastangos started narrating dastaan’s in the regional Oudhi dialect as well. The repertoire of late 19th / early 20th century Dastangos like Amba Prasad Rasa, Mir Ahmad Ali Rampuri, Muhammad Amir Khan and Sayeed Hussain Jha were tales like Dastan-e-Amir-Humza. The last tale was written down for the very first time in the late 19 th century and this single tale comprised 46 volumes that were published by the Naval Kishore Press in Lucknow. Only two or three volumes have survived! The last Dastango, Mir Baqr Ali, a junk dealer / raddiwala of Jama Masjid, Delhi, passed away in the early 1920’s. Legend has it that crowds would throng below as he declaimed from his terrace some evenings. A two minute recording, still extant in the British Library; a copy of which was brought back to India by Professor Shahid Amin, is the only surviving document that gives us some clue of the style of declamation adopted for Dastangoi. The Dastangoi tradition was revived only in 2005 by Shamshur Rehman Farooqui, the Allahabad based litterateur / writer / polymath who collected old texts and inspired his nephew, the multilingual scholar / writer / cultural historian Mehmood Farooqui to perform these tales again.

Which he did to thunderous acclaim at the India International Center, Delhi, in 2005. Mehmood Farooqui not only performed old texts that he adapted for stage performances; he also devised and wrote very provocative, subversive, laceratingly witty, original texts of subjects as diverse as the Partition of the Indian subcontinent in 1947 as also the unquiet, communally charged socio-political situation of post Babri Masjid demolition India circa 1998-2018. In addition, Farooqui successfully adapted the masterful magic realist Rajasthani writer Vijay Dan Detha’s whimsical tales for Dastangoi performances. Mehra and his co-performer Naqvi have further extended the Dastangoi repertoire to include the biting, sarcastic, sharp, insightful, intensely political and socially and sexually subversive writings of the late Ismat Chugtai which they’ve performed to great critical acclaim to audiences India wide as also in Abu Dhabi and Dubai where they’ll be performing again in November 2018 as part of an extended Middle East tour. They are booked for an American tour in August / September 2019 in the course of which they will be performing in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Tampa / Florida, the Asia Society, New York and at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbour.

Sunil Mehra is a Delhi based author, journalist, curator, filmmaker, social commentator who has worked in senior editorial capacity for premiere publications like Indian Express, India Today and Outlook. He has researched, directed, produced and anchored 76 episodes of Centerstage, a weekly show on art and culture for DD Metro and DD International that was voted among the three best shows on DD. He has acted in television commercials as also feature films, most notably: Earth, No One Killed Jessica, Philauri, Made in Heaven, directed by Zoya Akhtar and is currently shooting for URI directed by Aditya Dhar apart from diverse television commercials. Photo credit : Sameer Ghauri

Why the Indian Artiste of ‘Natyam’ cannot think it is “Performance as usual” Dr. Arshiya Sethi

In 2015 the world saw with horror as the body of the young Syrian child Alan Kurdi, washed ashore on a beach, a victim of a desperate crossing gone wrong. This was just one of the refugee stories. The UNHCR tells us that there are more than sixty five million such stories. The same year in a nondescript village in India, less than fifty kilometres from its capital Delhi, a Muslim man was lynched on the alleged charge of eating beef. On 17th December 2012, India woke up to the reportage on the brutal rape of Nirbhaya, one more of the many gang rape stories we have read in Indian newspapers. At a time when dalit atrocities are rampant, self professed cow vigilantes are making a mockery of human life, accident victims bleed to death as a callous society either walks past or clicks photos, and farmers are moving from being ‘anna-dattas’ to ‘atmahatyaras’ forced to committing suicide as they reel under rural debt, poor agrarian policies, drought and low procurement prices, we are faced with times that torpedo and tear at the conscience of each one of us.

Kathak dancer Rani Khanum in the production â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Black & Whiteâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; that raised questions around the interpretation of Muslim Personal law. Photo credit : Avinash Pasricha

It is evident that we are well past the time for ‘business as usual’. We can no longer be like Nero, fiddling evocative melodies while the pyrotechnics of conflicts destroys our world. This holds particularly true for artistes of the world. You who can hear the ‘anhad naad’ must have heard these cries of anguish. These cries must have evoked the emotion of compassion, the same ‘Karunya rasa’ that compelled Valmiki to write the Ramayana after hearing the cry of a bird hurt unjustly. Today in a world ravaged with a hundred pain laden cries, neither stoicism nor silence is an option any longer. Silence today is proof of complicity in perpetuating injustice. We have to speak up, in the name of what our honourable Prime Minister has called ‘insaniyat’, even selfishly in the name of our own insaniyat, as recognition of who we are. This is the ‘dharma’ of all sentient beings - not to remain silent or inactive when fellow humans are in trouble. The Brihadaranyaka Upanishad gave us the mantra “Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah....” (4) and the daily ardaas of the Sikhs end with the blessing “Sarbat da bhala” (5). In more recent times, while Swami Ramakrishna Paramhansa showed the way and Swami Vivekananda walked that way, Gandhi relit the lamp with the words of Narsimh Mehta singing about “...peed parayee jaane re” (6), Bhagat Puran Singh (7), Baba Amte and Mother Teresa walked the same path. Insaniyat has to be shown in a large vision of what constitutes society, which is like a large family of humankind, if the concept of ‘Vasudhaiv Kutumbakam’ has to be a meaningful concept. More so in a democratic society that is pledged to equality, inclusivity and the security of all rights of all members! If we have to be worthy of the benefits of a democracy, then we have to perform its dharma and use our freedom of speech and expression, for the benefit of this human family. Silence is slowly cutting the jugular of democracy, the freedom we won with great sacrifices, and the civilization we inherited upholding the highest values of mankind, showing us as in a poor light. For our obligation to our selves first, and then our children, we cannot stay silent. Our silence today is converting life’s garden of multiple ‘rasas’ to become mono-cultured spaces of ‘bhaya’ and ‘bibhatsa’. We cannot close our eyes and pretend that our lives are ‘bhakti pradhan’ - steeped in ‘shanta rasa’. We cannot pretend, Ostrich like, for we never could.

Remember the words of Faiz Ahmed Faiz? “Bol, ke lab azaad hai tere, Bol, zabaan ab tak teri hai, Tera sutwan jism hai tera – Bol, ke jaan ab tak teri hai”. Speak, for your two lips are free Speak, your tongue is still your own This straight body is still yours Speak, your life is still your own 86

The Sikh Ardas concludes with the words “Sarbat da Bhala” which means “blessings for everyone” or literally “may everyone prosper”. Photo credit : Veronique Azan

Singer Shubha Mudgal often sings the poetry of progressive poets like Dushyant Kumar, whose poetry urges you to do something about the levels of prevailing injustice. Photo credit : Raghav Pasricha

As artistes we have no choice but to “weaponise” the art, using the words spoken by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in 1963, to counter the descent into a “deeper darkness... (of ) a night already devoid of stars”. We cannot let others decide what the agenda of the arts is. It is our time to be the ‘rafoogar’ of society, not just the ‘rangraziya’ of our ‘mann’- an agent of mere manoranjan. This is not sedition, it is activism, it is social justice activism, it is powering universal love. It is Vasudhaiv Kutumbakam in action. Is our society limited by geography, cartography, time and age? Living in a globalised world, our performance too must respond to global changes, to decolonization, to the control of capital, labour migrations, ideological battles that are aimed to the finish, and the vulnerability of women, children, sexual minorities and those marginalised in myriad ways. Do our arts, our stories, our narratives, the natyams that we seek and perform, address the new ethnographies, rituals needed, practices attempted, to reflect the happenings of our times, the caste, ethnic and gender struggle that come together and overlap in the 21st century to generate contemporary notions of performance and performativity? 88

While we move towards the ‘society of the spectacle’, as inferred from our gravitation toward a technology-saturated entertainment menu card, only some of our arts are being able to challenge themselves. Theatre is one such form. It reveals the political usage of performance. For example, the ‘Theatre of the Oppressed’ (TO), is a form of theatre used for community education, to consciencetize and empower the communities it serves, as the work of the left leaning Jan Sankriti Manch has revealed. Theatre for Community Development, upheld by both NGOs and independent groups, such as Alarippu, Sangwari, Jana Natya Manch, are well known for this endeavour. Even established professional theatre groups like Asmita Theatre Group, Pierrot’s Troupe, Nandikar, Little Theatre Group, and Rangakarmee, among others, use theatre beyond entertainment for participatory development and as a communication tool. In comparison, other performance arts like music and dance have been lagging behind, preferring to stay within the comfort zone of timeless repertoire of time delinked myths and material. The dance of Shiva as described in Gopalakrishna Bharatiyaar’s “Natana Adinar”, and the many dalliances of Krishna with the gopis remain the most popular and frequently performed pieces in the classical dance repertoire that finds itself sorely incapable of addressing the real societal challenges of our times. While there are a few exceptions, this is the way things stand in dance and music in India. A Rani Khanam raises her voice through Kathak, against Triple talaq, a Rama Vaidyanathan speaks out not just for humans but birds as well and a Shubha Mudgal raises her voice in feminist songs and selects protest ghazals by Dushyant Kumar, but these are exceptions and not the rule. All activism need not be obvious. In the opening lines of the Sutradhar’s address in Bhikhari Thakur’s play ‘Bidesiya’, he says “Naach Kaanch Hai; Parantu baat saanch hai” (The theatre form of Naach is a mirror; But what it shows is the truth). Regrettably many of the arts - all forms of Natyam, seem to be blurring the reflections and refractions. Yet, things don’t have to be said loud and clear. Subtlety is enough of an “ishara”. In a recent address earlier this year, at an Artistes’ collective, journalist, film maker and actor, Sunil Mehra explained why he took to Dastangoi, after being a well known journalist and a nationally recognised Editor. “We live in an environment today where one searches for answers to explain the illogic that ‘others’ people language and cultures ...where Urdu is Muslim and Hindi is Hindu...” This is particularly disturbing for those who believe that the arts unite, and prize India’s Ganga Jamuni Tehzeeb. 89

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The disadvantaged children of Delhi based NGO Talent perform engaging plays about their condition and environment. This play is about Child labourâ&#x20AC;?. Photo credit : Talent & Kri Foundation

In these fertile soils the words of Kabir and Farid, Sultan Bahu and Meera, Rahim and Ramdas roll off tongues without pause, where the Gayatri mantra and Bismillah are said in the same breath, where Ghalib is loved as much as the ‘Geet Govind’, where our favourite buildings blend elements from indigenous traditions with those that came from overseas. We learn in at least three languages and enjoy several more. In this democratic ‘doab’ we never forget Kabir’s ‘... kudrat ke sab bande’ or Guru Gobind Singh’s ‘Manas ki jaat...”. Here we uphold a performance tradition that gives political valence to the Vidushak, and regale in stories that question misguided policies. Today when we sit quietly, we insult Tagore, Mahashweta Devi, Agyeyya, Manto and countless other writers who raised their pen against injustice.

Should the artistes not speak against injustice, they will be abettors of crimes against humanity. It was silence that has caused the tragedies that we have not forgotten, of fascist overreach in the world in 1933, and in India, in 1975. Around us several communities lie almost belly up, or bleeding and torn by inhuman examples of violence. If we don’t want to go their way, then the spotlight shines on the wise, the courageous and the gifted - the artistes, who uphold the spine, life breath, and see the inner light The poem of Faiz ends with a strong exhortation: Bol, ye thora waqt bahut hai, Jism o zabaan ki maut se pahle; Bol, ke sach zinda hai ab tak – Bol, jo kuchh kahna hai kah-le!

Artistes have a dharma of their own. But even if we see artistes as divided among religions, I would like to remind them that the adi rasa, which gave birth to the Ramayan was Karunya, and one of the names of Allah is Rahim - the compassionate one. The clarion call of the artiste is an ‘Aavejak aavaaz’ - a call to catalyse. This is a call to compassion. The power of the artistes to create a social justice paradigm is phenomenal.

Speak, this little time is plenty Before the death of body and tongue Speak, for Truth is still alive Speak, say whatever is to be said Before it is too late, before the spine of the community is broken, the living breath of our society is snuffed and humanitarian civilization is asphyxiated, before the light is eternally switched off and we are pushed into – “Tamaso” territory, needing a new ‘jyotir’, let the artistes perform their miracle by weaponising their art and becoming the rafoogars of society not just the rangraziyas of our mind.

This is a call to compassion. The power of the artistes to create a social justice paradigm is phenomenal. Their iconic position, their larger than life persona and their special gifts all point them in this direction. It is a social equity unmatched by any other demographic. They have a powerful language as their tool - the language of art, a highly eloquent and specialised language, so universal, that it pierces through barriers, walls and divides, taking all in its embrace. There are no restrictions of language or shared cultural traditions. All it asks for is an open heart and it zeroes into ‘sahridayata’ making you ‘of one heart’. But for that they have to speak in words, sing in song, demonstrate in dance and talk through theatre. They have to take the first step and then it happens magically - “Kaarvaan banta jayega” - the movement is inevitable as the believers will follow.

Artistes have the power to be the carriers of the truth in this age of ‘post truth’, fake news, trolling and ‘alternative facts’. In their special role as such, they are the ‘nayaks’, the leaders of the community, nation builders, and the conscience keepers of our civilization, the sages who have darshan of the ‘satya’, without whom and which, we cannot ensure that truth alone triumphs - ‘Satyameva Jayate”.(1)

1. http://www.unhcr.org/en-us/figures-at-a-glance.html ( accessed on 21st July, 2017) 2. I got this phrase from an unpublished paper by Dr. Uma Shankari a farmer from the Chitoor district of Andhra Pradesh - “From Anna-data (food provider) to Aatma - hatyara (self killer): The Indian Farmer Through the Ages” 3. Anhad naad is the philosophical concept of “unstruck sound,” sound without external vibration. It is referenced in both Hindu and Sikh traditions. In the Hindu tradition, the primordial sound – this “constant hum” – is rendered through Aum or Om, an attempt to codify the ineffability of the universe’s silence into a channel accessible to human beings. 4. Sarve bhavantu sukhinah; Sarve santu niramayah; Sarve bhadraani pasyantu; Maa kaschit duhkhabhaag bhavet, Om Shanti Shanti Shanti (May all be happy; May all be without disease; May all enjoy prosperity; May none suffer any misery. Om Peace Peace Peace) is a prayer inspired by the verse 1.4.14 of the Brihadaranyika Upanishad is a Shanti shloka that is recited almost every day by Hindus for over a thousand years. 5. The Sikh ardaas done twice a day as part of the Nitnem prayers ends with the words “Nanak Naam Chadhdi Kala, tere bhane sarbat da bhala” (Nanak, with Naam comes Chadhdi kala and with your blessings, well being for everyone), embodying an essential aspect of the Sikh world view. 6. Narsimh Mehta was a bhakti saint known as the adi kavi of Gujarat. The first Gujarati film made in 1932, ‘Narsimh Mehta’ was about him. “Vaishnav Janato tene kahiye je, peed paraayi jaane re” (Vaishnav is the one who knows the pain of others) was Gandhiji’s favorite Bhajan. 7. Bhagat Puran Singh (1904-1992) set up the Pingalwara in Amritsar that looks after the forlorn, abandoned and hopeless castaways. The institution continues even after his death. He was also active on environmental causes. A recipient of the Padmashri ( 1981), which he returned in protest against the government action on the Golden temple in 1984, he was also nominated for the Nobel Peace prize in 1991 for his yeoman service to India’s poorest and unfortunate. Bhagat Puran Singh was carrying forward a social service tradition that had been set into place by many Sikhs before him including Bhai Kanhaiyya ji. Bhai Kanhaiyya ji, who lived in the times of Gurus Tegh Bahadur and Gobind Singh, was famous for servicing injured soldiers by feeding them water and bandaging their wounds. He did not differentiate between Sihks and Mughals because he claimed to see the Guru in all beings. 8. Murlidhar Devidas Amte (1914-2008), popularly known as Baba Amte was an Indian social worker and social activist who shunned personal comforts and dedicated his life for the rehabilitation and empowerment of poor people, especially those suffering from leprosy. Like Bhagat Puran Singh his work too started under a tree for lack of resources. A recipient of several national and international honours, his work is continued by his son and daughter-in-law Drs. Prakash and Mandakini Amte. 9. This ‘shloka’ is from the Maha Upanishad (Chapter 6, Verse 72):

Ayam bandhurayam neti ganana laghuchetasam udaracharitanam tu vasudhaiva kutumbakam Only small men discriminate saying: One is a relative; the other is a stranger. For those who live magnanimously the entire world constitutes but a family. The same though gets echoed in another Vedic text- the Hitopadesha where the shloka goes as follows : “Udāracharitānām tu vasudhaiva kutumbakam”, meaning, “This is my own relative and that is a stranger’ – is the reasoning of the narrow-minded; for the noble hearts, however, the entire earth is but one family”. This thought is a seminal principle of our ancient civilizational wisdom.

(1) This statement is recognized as India’s motto and is taken from the Mundaka Upanishad

Independent scholar, Dr. Arshiya Sethi, twice a recipient of the Fulbright Fellowship, writes and speaks on cultural issues, in India and internationally. After three decades as Consultant, building tangible and intangible cultural equities, being dance critic, commentator on Dance and Music on Doordarshan’s archival National Programme of Dance and Music for more than three decades, and then advisor on India’s national arts channel, she has established and runs the Kri Foundation, which promotes different ways of looking at the Arts, especially ‘Artivism’- Art directed at Activism. Her doctoral research has been on the dances of the Vaishnav monasteries of Assam called Sattras from which has emerged the eighth classical dance style of India, Sattriya. Her current scholarly research focuses on diasporic constituencies of dance, and through a multi-disciplinary lens, on cultural ecology at the intersection of politics and society, studying the ways in which artistic practices, especially dance, links with governance, gender, environment, cultural rights, identity issues and beyond, and social justice paradigms. She has just concluded a yearlong Post Doc attachment under the Fulbright fellowship at the University of Minnesota.

Photo credit : Avinash Pasricha

Art Ichol Calendar Events Exhibitions Residencies Collaborations Awards

Sept. 06 - Our first residency in the new calendar year, titled New Grammar, a multi-disciplinary residency was curated by Rahul Kumar. Ten artists from various disciplines at Art Ichol, worked in pairs to produce an exciting body of artworks. A stone carver with a painter, a print maker with a sculptor, and a writer with a ceramicist. Working together was engaging, educational and fun at once. Participating Artists: Janaarthan with Rai David, Chetnaa with Avijit, Sangam with Raka, Ekta with Ravi and Rahul with Trishna.

SEPTEMBER 2017

Sept. 13 - Art Ichol welcomes Holly Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Meehan, its first exchange artist from Fremantle Arts Centre in Australia. Holly has a unique way of combining ceramics with crochet.

OCTOBER 2017

An outcome of the Disappearing Dialogues Open Forum was the construction of a contemporary mud cottage, blending traditional style and practice with the modern and practical approach. Designed by Australian architect Clare Elizabeth Kennedy, a participant of the Disappearing Dialogues research residency. She was assisted by Acacia Stevenson, also from Australia.

NOVEMBER 2017

Celebrated artist Satish Gupta, who was working on his Buddha installations to be set up at Art Ichol, visited the centre to rehearse for the opening event. Young and talented dancer Anamika Singh choreographed an artistic piece integrating the three elements, Earth, Water and Fire, the theme of the installations.

Nov. 01 - Dec. 01 - Art Icholâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s first sponsored artist Anjani Khanna at the Fremantle Arts Centre, Australia.

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Nov. 27 - The year long research residency, Disappearing Dialogues saw its culmination on November 27th, in an exhibition cum haat at Bikaner House, New Delhi. CEO Niti Aayog, Mr. Amitabh Kant presided over as the Chief Guest. The third journal of Art Ichol, Vaakyam, which is the second in a trilogy, Drishyam, Vaakyam, Natyam, was also released at the event, by the CEO Niti Aayog, Shri. Amitabh Kant.

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DECEMBER 2017

Dec. 09 - The opening of the Brick Temple - a homage to the brick makers of the area by artist Jacques Kaufmann in Art Ichol. Jacques was also a participant of the first Ceramic Residency, curated by Madhvi Subrahmanian at Art Ichol. One brick suspended in air in the centre of the dome says it all. The event was followed by an invigorating symposium titled Art Architecture and Sustainable Living. Participants : Ray Meeker, Neelam Manjunath, Vineet Kacker, Suneet Paul and Jacques Kaufmann and Intach Chairman General Gupta.

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Dec. 29 - Ambica Beri had the privilege of meeting the Honourable Prime Minister, kind courtesy Shri Ganesh Singh, MP Satna, and presenting him with Nantu Behariâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s sculpture made with aluminium pins. She also apprised him briefly of the work being done at Art Ichol.

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JANUARY 2018

Jan. 09 -23 - â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Migrationâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; - an exciting residency curated by Katharina Kakkar at Art Ichol begins with a visit to Sharda Devi Temple. The residency saw an eclectic mix of artists Ketna Patel from London, Sonja Coates from Canada, Megha Joshi from Delhi, B Karuna from Hyderabad, Julia Klemm from Germany, Priyal Woodpecker from Goa and Carl Atiyeh, a film maker from Canada.

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Jan. 29 - Privileged to have Japanese artist Satoru Hoshino in Art Ichol. Satoru worked on his collection for the first Ceramic Triennale to be held at the Jawahar Kala Kendra, Jaipur from August 31st to18th November 2018. The residency was supported by The Japan Foundation, New Delhi.

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Feb. 16 - Chloe Monks, a UK based ceramic artist was part of the Art Ichol team for a few months. She helped capture the magic of Art Ichol for online social media, setting up spaces and assisting resident artists with their work. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Here I am at the start of my working week alongside Paresh Maity, during the construction of his new work at Ichol, and Satoru Hoshino as he unloads his work from the smoke firing for the Indian Ceramics Triennale, Breaking Ground, 2018.â&#x20AC;?

FEBRUARY 2018

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Feb. 21 - Paresh Maity working on a 30 ft high installation. Inspired by Baba Allauddin Khan and The Maihar Senia Gharana. To be completed by the end of the year.

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Feb. 24 -25 - Art Ichol celebrated its 3rd Anniversary with a grand opening of eminent artist Satish Guptaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Buddha Installation signifying the three elements, Water, Fire and Earth. Presenting the theme in an artistically choreographed music, dance and prose ensemble, talented young dancer Anamika Singh enthused the audience with her graceful movements. The event was well attended.

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Ambica Beri received the highest civilian honour accorded to Indian women, the â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Nari Shakti Awardâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;, for her invaluable service to the cause of art and artists along with the community work being done at Art Ichol. The award was presented by the Honourable President of India, Shri Ram Nath Kovind, at the Rashtrapati Bhavan.

MARCH 2018

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a creative escape

M IH R Khajuraho-Bandhavgarh Highway, Village Maihar, Madhya stone metalIchol, ceramic graphic fine artPradesh, India HO, Sunderson House, NH7, Rewa Road, Maihar 485 771 Dist: Satna. Madhya Pradesh, India Mobile: +91 98 31 009278, +91 98 31 275666 Email: info@artichol.in

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