A new work from the Adishakti stable uses an important episode from the life of Bali, to explore the notion of right and wrong, through varied points of view. Its director Nimmy Raphael talks about how it took shape.
The core of ‘Bali’, a new theatre production from Adishakti (Laboratory for Theatre Arts & Research), that will premiere tomorrow (April 7) in its home ground in Auroville, is the notion of perspectives. In an attempt to explore the very fine but layered lines and complexities that dictate and determine human behaviour, ‘Bali’ is an experimental interplay between the head and the heart, thoughts and emotions, facts and perspectives, realities and circumstances, thereby compelling — both the artiste and the audience — to participate equally and form their own opinion on the epic and the everyday.
Bali’s protagonist is Bali, aka Vali, the monkey king of Kishkinta from the Ramayana; its singular preoccupation is the death of Bali by Rama. And around this finality, a series of characters — Sugreeva, Angadha, Tara, Rama and Ravana — create powerful moments and tension that present alternate and opposing points of view that are inspired by their own ethics and contexts.
‘Bali’ was born in Nimmy Raphael’s head. A resident actor who made Adishakti her home 17 years ago after training in Mohiniyattom and Kuchipudi at the Kerala Kalamandalam, Nimmy says ‘Bali’ had been brewing in her head for many years now. “I can’t point a finger at when exactly Bali as a character became a concrete idea,” she says, “But I know that ever since I’ve been engaging with characters from the Ramayana — in Nidravatham, for instance, I engaged with Lakshmana and Kumbhakarna and their relationship with sleep —I’ve been drawn to Bali, the figure, and particularly intrigued by the act of Bali’s death.”
The play opens with text and movement by Bali, portrayed by Vinaykumar, managing trustee and artistic director, Adishakti, in the company of his favourite trees; he knows death awaits him; he hugs his trees one final time and addresses the audience, urging them to witness the events that will unfold, and the varying justifications they will hear about his death, placing the onus of forming an informed and deliberate opinion that has clarity, and is personal. “So, the entire play is before Bali’s death and after Bali’s death,” Nimmy says, “You don’t ever see Bali die on stage.”
Need to introspect
What you witness instead is a series of conflicting reasons that force us to introspect upon right and wrong and the importance of the lens through which we perceive them. For instance, in Bali’s death, Sugreeva, his brother, plots with Rama to kill him. “If you dig deep,” Nimmy says, “You’ll see Sugreeva has his own reasons. For Rama, Bali’s death is a power dynamic. To establish a kingdom of his own, he needs to kill Bali… and therefore he feels justified in doing what he does even though the weaponry he brings to the forest, is one that is superior and therefore in a sense, unfair to the law of that land. But the reality is, everyone has a perspective.”
The work is also a celebration of the cyclical and dynamic nature of the Ramayana itself, that has journeyed an array of courses by virtue of a series of re-tellings over time immemorial. In Nimmy’s treatment of Bali, the act of Bali’s death, an established fact is placed in the centre and a personal, original take is presented around that episode, also enabling us to transition seamlessly — back and forth — through language and text to gestures and movement from the epic to the everyday, and vice versa.
An equally interesting layering to this landscape of human emotions is the soundscape of Bali that freely marries music of an array of genres, traditional, contemporary, Jazz, to name a few, to reflect the personality and complexities of every character. The music is also reflective of the contrasting nature of our personalities where vulnerability and strength co-exist, where confidence collides with a state of confusion, and in a sense, the artiste and the audience experience an emotion, almost in unison.
Bali, as a work, is also poignant because it marks the arrival of a creation, four years after the passing away of Adishakti’s matriarch, Veenapani Chawla. The work will unfold two days after her birthday and Nimmy hopes it will live up to the philosophy of Adishakti: “To create original work that attempts to search, and provoke.”
Honestly, the larger discourse of Bali is also relevant to the context that we live in. “You see,” says Nimmy, “It’s very important to allow differences to emerge and within that, to hear these voices and that in itself is a strength… To listen to voices, and to have a voice of your own. These things really matter.”
