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Eternal steps

Photo Deepak Mudgal

Perfect poise Malavika Sarukkai in performance.

Ganga, the eternal river, in her manifold moods – playful, serene, wild and tumultuous – has never failed to stir to magnificent heights the creative imagination of Bharatanatyam danseuse Malavika Sarukkai. In her recital at India Habitat Centre, supported by R.A. Association (U.K.), the dancer’s “Ganga Nityaa Vahini – Eternal River” once again underlined her deep affinity with the river whose never-ending manifestations can rival the eternally unpredictable nayika of classical dance.

Not that one had not been treated to Malavika’s four-part presentation on this theme earlier – but never in the same way – showing the eternally evolving story of the Ganga, inspiring ever fresh dance images, with no two renditions sporting the same face. Cerebral in ideas and impassioned in rendition, Malavika’s Bharatanatyam involved heart and mind in demanding proportions.

From the descent of the river and Bhagirathi’s journey through rocks and hills to Devaprayag where Alakananda joins the river to become the Ganga “Devi Sureshwari Bhagavati Gange”, the dance becomes a blended stately/sensuous statement – the music comprising authoritative ‘sollus’ and lyrical swara phrases merging into a prayer - “Pahi Kripamahi- mama jnanam.’ Flowing like the consciousness of India, the Ganga is like the beautiful maiden/mother with rounded breasts to nourish humanity.

“Astam gatho Ravihi” – the Sun sinking below the horizon with daylight slowly emerging into dusk – becomes a metaphor reflecting life in different facets lived on the river banks. As newly wed eagerly await the cover of darkness to indulge in passion, the next contrasting scene portrays a mother beside the funeral pyre of her young son bemoaning life in which the Sun has set for ever. “Irul soozhum velai”, the Tamil line, was elaborated into myriad images of sorrow.

The final scene amidst ringing temple bells captures the aarti with lighted camphor, the amplitude of the dancer’s moving torso and circling hands reflecting exuberance. The concentric circles to the “Jala Jala” refrain signified the wheels of time. Very evocative was the contemporary message of the polluted Ganga crying out for being rid of her impurities, conveyed through a veil held before the dancer with frenzied movements in cramped floor space on one side of the stage, with music accenting the note ‘re’ and ‘ni’ of wailing Subhapantuvarali, with the boatman’s song as refrain. Finally, based on Tansen’s poetry and C.V. Chandrasekhar’s score in Revagupti and Pooryadhanashree set to Adi tala, both nritta and dance images of a drop of water becoming a vast mass of liquid harmony, suggest the river losing her individuality by becoming one with the vast sea. This totally involved rendition with full support from Srilata (nattuvangam), Murali Parthasarathy (vocal- a shaky start building up to bhav soaked singing), M.S. Sukhi (mridangam) with tuneful violin interventions by Srilakshmi Venkataramani saw the aesthetically simple blue/green costumed Malavika exploring Bharatanatyam movement beyond the adavu alphabet.

Singled out as ‘Pakistani Pig” or “Man from Brown Town”, the domiciled Asian in the West living amidst an alien culture, he is trying to become one with the mainstream even while unable to shed the telling signs of his cultural/biological inheritance. He becomes a mixed bag of blends, falling between two stools of identity.

Catching this identity crisis, Roger Sinha’ mixed dance language drawing on Bharatanatyam, martial arts, Ballet and Modern Dance in ‘Burning Skin’ makes a searing statement, at once witty and sad. Aggressive like Johnny becoming white by burning the top skin to become ‘white’ or withdrawing into places within oneself, he and his friend watch “Gandhi” the film seven times. Is it possible to be accepted by denying the Indian within oneself? Using an individualistic language of dance with gestures (mudra) and sudden bursts like “Takadhimi Takajhubu” sollus, and activities like tea-drinking or the steam hissing from kettle spouts on several stoves with the dancer dramatically and deliberately lifting and donning the still-smoking steaming shirt from the basin of boiling water on the stove in front have a sense of the theatre of the macabre, making the audience shudder, giving the dance an element of dangerous unpredictability.

Quebec and Asia blend in ‘Quebetian Rhapsody’ where the duet with a female partner has moments of excellent grace and vigour but becomes over indulgent. Zeroes and Ones, a strong statement on the demographic bubble with India’s multinationals and Coca Colas and Tata Indicas amidst the backdrop of contrastingly traditional beautiful screened visual images of eloquent eye gestures, telling the story of Draupadi and Bhima and Hanuman (who ultimately punctures the vainglorious Bhima’s physical prowess (from Kalyana Sowgandhikam the Kathakali play) was very clever. Towards the end, the demure Draupadi begins to behave like Bhima and Bhima like Draupadi and Hanuman is a frightened, confused character. The final statement of India’s “perfect dance of death” says it all.

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