The wind blows hard, bringing with it heavy showers. There’s a chill in the air. Inside Brahma Gana Sabha, the Akkarai Sisters hurl warm currents of buoyant swaras. Sitting in the first row is Bengt Berger, listening to every musical phrase in rapt attention, nodding his head delightfully to the rhythm. A traditional Indian topi covers his silver locks and he is clad in a kurta and cotton trousers. When the concert ends, he briskly heads to the next kutcheri for the day, of Hyderabad Brothers, at Raga Sudha Hall.
A Swede by birth, he prefers to be called by his Indian name, Sopan Dev. Since the 1960s, Dev has been a regular visitor to the city, especially during the Season. A jazz musician and composer, Dev learnt to play the mridangam from Nellai P.S. Devarajan and the tabla from Pandit Taranath Rama Rao. Recently, he released a 1968 live recording of veteran Carnatic vocalist Nedunuri Krishnamurthy. “It was performed at Nagercoil and my guru played the mridangam. I am always finding ways to keep alive the memory of the time spent with him. This is just a small tribute to it,” says the 72-year-old with a cheery smile, as we try to catch our breath keeping pace with his quick, long strides. To our request for a photograph, he gets behind the nearest ‘No parking’ board and utters ‘Radhe Krishna’ as the photographer goes click, click, click.
We then turn around to see a long queue outside the sabha. Rasikas wait for the doors to open for Bharatanatyam exponent Alarmel Valli’s performance. Standing out in the crowd is Maya, in a deep pink sari, her radiant, hazel eyes lined thickly with kohl. A string of mallipoo adorns her hair that is neatly knotted into a bun. When asked if she has visited Chennai before during the Margazhi utsavam, she surprises us by saying she was a student of the legendary Kittappa Pillai of the famous Tanjore Quartet and that she has also had her arangetram in Thanjavur. This year after celebrating Christmas with her family in France, she took the next flight to India, to attend Alarmel Valli’s recital. “Thanjavur is almost home to me because it is the birthplace of Maya the artiste,” she says. “A reason why I named my dance school in France, Thanjavur Heritage,” she adds striking various mudras for the camera. At 15, she was first exposed to this art in Paris, at the Theatre du Rond-point on the Champs Elysées. “And I decided to make it my soul mate. Of course, I have a supportive husband who helps me strengthen this bond,” she laughs.
In the queue stands an excited Rebecca, who has arrived from Australia only the previous night. “I am jetlagged and sleep-deprived, yet so happy that I have finally made it to this globally talked-about fest,” she says, a little apprehensive about being photographed when “not looking my best”.
A flamenco artiste, Rebecca was drawn to Bharatanatyam about six years ago after watching a performance. She soon joined dancer-choreographer Anandavalli’s well-known Lingalayam Dance Company in Sydney. “The costume, colour, form and movement — everything about this classical art is reflective of the depth and dynamism of the Indian civilisation. This is my first time at the Season, but I have been to India earlier. I realise life here is not easy — chaotic traffic, pollution, crowds, yet there is enough to satisfy your inner self. And I am happy the West is discovering it,” she says, adding in a lighter vein, “though my father is concerned about my being in araimandi (half-sitting posture) for long hours.”
The congregation of rasikas outside Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan appears like a global conclave with many foreigners chatting with Indian artistes and art aficionados. Meet Ananga Manjari and Vishnu Priya, two young girls from Lima, Peru. Though Peruvians, they took on Indian names “to experience the beauty of Bharatanatyam in its entirety”. “You cannot understand the emotion without being aware of its spiritual aspects. So we read a lot of ancient Indian literature, the epics and mythology,” says the duo. Wearing crisp cotton saris with matching glass bangles, their hair tightly plaited and bright red pottu s on the forehead, they wish to live the art even outside their training arena. “We began to pursue this dance form because of my mother’s fascination for it. She would watch performances, videos and read up to learn about it.” After quite a struggle, they found a good guru in Malaysia-based dancer, choreographer and composer Shankar Kandasamy, who now makes frequent trips to Lima to teach them at their school Gopeshwara. “We have rented a flat near Kalakshetra for a month. It feels like a dream-come-true to be here. It’s the closest we can get to the art that rules our hearts and minds.”
For Paris-based painter Caroline Dantheny, music and dance are an extension of her visual imagery. For the past year, she has been working on a mega art project with Chennai-based embroiderer-designer Jean François Lesage, whose works adorn homes and landmark buildings across the world. “I seek so much inspiration from the Indian classical arts,” she says, walking into the main hall to watch Leela Samson’s performance. “Yes, it’s exhausting to find my way around the crowded streets and lanes. But my travels around this city, rich in temples and traditions, have added to my aesthetic vocabulary,” says Caroline, her eyes conveying more than words.
Writer Isabel Putinja, who grew up in Canada and has lived in Belgium, Austria, the U.K. and India, seems to have found her identity in Odissi and Bharatanatyam and has a blog on Indian classical dances (sacredspaceblog.com). She has been coming to Chennai for the Season since 2002. On her way to the vocal concert of the Chinmaya Sisters, she sums it up well, “Margazhi is when we turn our long distance affair with these arts into an intimate relationship.”
