Memorable moments

At their performances in New Delhi this past week, Leela Samson’s Bharatanatyam offered a rare experience of watching the dancer’s persona erased in the dance, while young Madhyama Segal took viewers on a journey of vintage Odissi, says Leela Venkataraman.

August 14, 2014 04:28 pm | Updated 04:28 pm IST

Madhyama Segal at the event.

Madhyama Segal at the event.

Leela Samson in a solo Bharatanatyam presentation at Gandharva Mahavidyalaya’s performance space Sannidhi, as part of the centenary year of their founder late Vinaychandra Maudgalya, proved how dance, as a highly evolved and internalised statement of faith and commitment, transcends endorsements. It just is — as the mixed gathering of art lovers from various fields understood and expressed through enthusiastic appreciation. Now at the peak of her performing form, the evolved interpretative dance, with a trim body still able to hold immaculate line and movement profile, makes Leela’s Bharatanatyam incisively communicative. Shiva extolled in all his fiery intellectual power and grandeur saw many manifestations, starting with the celestial dancer Shoolapani on the heights of Mount Kailas, with the gods watching in ecstasy as various deities provided musical accompaniment, based on Swati Tirunal’s “Shankara Srigiri”. A prelude of verses from the Shivapradosha Stotram in raga Kambodhi, followed by the lyric in Hamsanandi, evoked all the magnificence and wonderment of Shiva.

Catching Shiva in a rare sringar moment, before his wedding, are Kalidasa’s Kumarasambhava verses, a Leela favourite, with music by Madhup Mudgal in Vibhas. Declining the bridal attire presented by the ‘seven Mothers of the Universe’, Shiva sets off in his simple garments, the ash covered body, the tiger skin, the snake garland round his neck — all acquiring a burnished glory resembling bridal finery — Shiva’s love creating a fleeting moment of vanity as he glances, in the snatched shining sword of a gana, at his facial reflection. One lauds the choreography for not just a movement translation, but for catching the poetic spirit of Kalidasa.

In Kala-Bhairavaashtakam portraying ferocious Shiva, apart from Leela’s passionate dance and the Hamsadhwani recitation score, one lauded choreographer Srijith Krishna’s designing, with the brilliant nritta flashes woven into the sung lines.

Abhinaya was richly represented. Swati Tirunal’s javali in Behag, “Saramaina Matalanta Tsalu Tsalu Ra Saami” was introduced though a delightful alap in Behag by singer Gayatri, the sole accompanist, sans instrumentation, for the dancer’s interpretative segment. The middling khandita, jilted, and aware of the beloved’s liaison with the lotus-eyed one, wants none of his sweet nothings. Describing her state, she pleads, “Who else do I trust but you?” The Kshetrayya padam in Varali “Valapudasa” portrayed an experienced uttama nayika, who despite being crossed in love, is not ashamed or capable of hiding her ardent feelings for the erstwhile lover, who would always be welcomed with open arms. Dharmapuri Subbarayar’s oft-rendered composition in Paras, “Smarasundaranguni sari evvare?” illustrated the confident-in-love swadheenapatika. “Who is there amongst all these men, to equal my beloved in his steadfast love for me, his ardent appreciation of my talents, and his total deference to every wish of mine?” Both music and abhinaya shared the journey of mood evoking. A rare experience of the dancer’s persona erased in the dance!

Odissi in its pristine form

It was like watching an Odissi performance years ago in the ’60s in Kalavikash Kendra in Bhubaneswar, as one saw Madhyama Segal, grand-daughter of Kiran Segal, perform at the India International Centre, in a recital dedicated to her late great grandmother, Zohra Segal. Savouring a slow pace, with the broad chauka (now rarely seen in Odissi) and fully articulated bodily deflections, mangalacharan was set as a homage to Shiva, the music in Patdeep in the score of late Balakrushna Das sung by Prashant Behera with fine mardal percussion by Prafulla Mangaraj. The “Tare Jham” swara pallavi in Misra Shankarabharanam — the music scored by Harihara Panda — was in Kiran’s choreography a straightforward plunge into articulating all the swaras, without a slow start which flowers out into more demanding tala patterns as is done today. Prafulla’s mardal and ukkuta recitation were good. Banamali Das’ lyric “Bato chhado” (Madhyama’s now pleasant abhinaya is bound to evolve to greater nuances) in Yaman brought out in the interpretation the varying attitudes of Radha asking Krishna to stop blocking her way as she sets off for the Mathura market to sell curds. Sweetly pleading at first, she is angry and then uses the argument that her in-laws will chastise her for being late. When even this fails to move Krishna, Radha , with hauteur refers to her exalted status as daughter of Vrishabhanu. She threatens to come with all her comrades to protest at his behaviour. Finally, Krishna relents. The singer and the violinist Gopinath and flautist Dheeraj Pande provided the right accompaniment. The best part of moksha (and of the evening) was Kiran Segal’s manjira, with musicality, sruti alignment and impeccable laya and clarity of utterance of the ukkutas. Madhyama has the right foundation to build on.

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