Four exponents of 4 classical dance types carry out thought-provoking items on the Anvesana pageant
It was a pleasure to look at stalwarts of 4 Indian classical dance types, Bijayini Satpathy (Odissi), Methil Devika (Mohiniyattam), Rama Vaidyanathan (Bharatanatyam), and Aditi Mangaldas (Kathak) at ‘Anvesana: Reflections in Solitude’, a digital dance pageant.
“It is fascinating to look into the minds of a creator. Does a physical lockdown mean a lockdown of spirit and creativity?” requested Lata Pada, inventive director, Sampradaya Dance Creations, Canada, which organised the pageant. While offering alternatives for younger artistes with digital tasks such because the one primarily based on Maya Angelou’s autobiography, A Caged Bird Sings, and ‘Danceconnects’, which invited movies from dancers throughout the globe, Lata conceived ‘Anvesana’ for senior artistes, who’ve had compelled intervals of solitude within the absence of performances and excursions. The dance pageant was supported by the Canada Council for the Arts, Ontario Arts Council, City of Mississauga, and Department of Canadian Heritage.
The dancers got about six to seven months to return with new works of 30 to 40 minutes. Part of the proceeds of the pageant was given for Covid-19 aid efforts in India.
Leaving behind none of the fleet-footed sensuality of Nrityagram’s Odissi, Bijayini Satpathy’s fashion is evolving with a slower depth, broader chaukas, one-legged positions held longer, and fewer groundedness. Almost like a flower blooming, petal by petal.
Gradual build-up
Her manufacturing, the ‘Call of Dawn’ has three items in raag Ahir Bhairav; Bijayini difficult herself to not make them sound or seem repetitive. The dancer is in positive form, going au naturel with gray hair.
Bijayini presents the narrative of a younger lady who, whereas worshipping Shiva, experiences her personal sensuality behind the imagery of Ardhanareeshwara. With confidence she decides within the subsequent Nazrul Geeti ‘Aruno kanti’ that she can not marry the awe-inspiring Shiva, and chooses the charming Krishna as an alternative. The Pallavi (Sukanta Kumar Kundu), is a celebration of anticipation, identical to the Chakravaka lovebirds.
The quick efficiency regularly picks up tempo, as does the music (Bijayini, Srinibas Satapathy, Shivashankar Satapathy and Bindumalini Narayanaswamy) and lighting (Sujay Saple). The haunting melody of ‘Ta nom ta ta nom’ cuts by means of the darkness because the Ardhanareeshwara sloka unfolds. This is the slowest piece, filmed in partial darkness, with little reflections of the ripples from an uruli including lighting results on the dancer’s face as she portrays the Ardhanareeshwara imagery.
The Nazrul Geeti has much less embellishment and is sung at a brisker tempo. The aerial photographs through the raas section are fascinating. The final, a conventional piece, is probably the most vibrant and vibrant. The digital camera (Mahesh Bhat) is unobtrusive aside from some pleasure through the pallavi.
Strong on abhinaya
Methil Devika banks on her distinctive abhinaya to current the story of Ahalya from Valmiki Ramayana. She spoke of how Valmiki had handled Ahalya briefly however sensitively, not like later commentators whose interpretations got here from a harsher, male-dominated socio-cultural standpoint. According to Valmiki, she was cursed to stay invisible, subsisting on air, till Rama steps into her hermitage and blesses her.
Clarity and ease are the hallmarks of the session. Devika is as sleek and minimalistic as Mohiniyattam is supposed to be. We can see calmness in probably the most dramatic of moments — through the lustful Indira’s entry and when Gautama catches the erring couple. Strong feelings are proven with out dropping the grace of the fashion.
The starting is fairly poetic — Rama questions Viswamitra in regards to the abandoned hermitage. As the interpretation of the Sanskrit textual content scrolls throughout the display, the digital camera focusses on the hasta abhinaya (hand gestures). Devika’s ekaharya abhinaya, a soloist taking part in completely different roles, is on level and clear. Her facial expressions sustain as Devika switches characters. She delineates the story and has explanatory texts operating throughout the display as properly.
The music flows easily, with the ragas altering at opportune moments. Devika breaks the storyline into melodious swara passages once in a while, gliding gracefully by means of the dipping actions with out disturbing the temper. The lighting (Madhu Ambat) is restrained, most ingenious when displaying the passage of time when Ahalya is invisible. The jerky digital camera work is the one spoilsport that creates abruptness in an in any other case seamless piece.
Beyond the grammar
A consequence of the “time spent without the urgency of performance-oriented practice” is Rama Vaidyanathan’s ‘Moving Boundaries,’ which tries to barter the boundaries of her dance. Bharatanatyam has a inflexible grammar, so the adavus are an excellent place to begin. Dramatic opening — Rama in an araimandi place patiently executing the essential first Thattu adavu, ‘Thayya thai’. She later tries to discover the identical beat by means of a number of actions. The identical goes for the ‘Tha thai thai tha’ adavu including a tisra twist and for the flowery theermana adavu ‘Kitathaka tharikitathom’.
The course of of unlearning continues with songs from Thirumular’s Thirumanthiram (second century), an ode to Shiva because the Brahman. Rama retains to the literal that means of the songs, which fits her theme — freedom within the dance area (Ananda aada rangam), when boundaries merge (Bhootanda peydanda), and when boundaries paved the way (Addangathai yennai addaki). Especially putting is ‘Bhootanda’ (Mayamalavagowla raga, Adi tala), the track peppered with dramatic parts equivalent to a tanam, layering within the neraval, and swaras, the dance included bits of a tisra alarippu alternating with the track, steps set in khanda beat following the rhythm inside the phrases and extra.
She makes use of free-style non-traditional steps that observe the higher, center and decrease octaves of the gorgeous music (Sudha Raghuraman). Metaphors like a hovering kite, raindrops, a peacock’s joyful dance, symbolising a dancer with out shackles, are successfully used and caught on digital camera (Inee Singh). The final scene is probably the most dramatic — the dancer in araimandi practising ‘Thayya thai’ illuminated by the identical band of mild (Gyan Dev). A return to the fold maybe?
Camera retains time
‘Lost…in the forest!’ is all in regards to the sthayi of the pandemic. As Aditi Mangaldas says, “Dance needs to breathe the air of the now.” Stunning music (Shubha Mudgal), arresting visuals equivalent to eerie, empty frames shifting within the wind, and sensible tatkaar in ‘Naav mein nadiya’ (Boat within the river), a poem by Kunwar Narain. It is in regards to the chills of a depressing evening, a darkish river, life and loss. The digital camera appears to be in a frenzy. When the dancer twirls, it twirls too and sooner or later it appears like each could collide. Aditi explains that the digital camera’s actions had been intentional, so as to add to the sense of being misplaced.
She stands by the window watching helplessly, ready, or someinstances reaching out as Shubha sings, ‘gehra hai, andhera hai..’ (it’s deep, it’s darkish). The fleeting second of hope is gone. Hope build up and dwindling, is a continuing by means of the piece, because the dancer searches for protected floor.
Aditi’s subsequent piece is lighter, a Bharatendu Harishchandra poem, Chhan chhan chhip chhip (translated as ‘now seen… now not), tells of the moon rising and hiding. The protagonist is a deer that is startled by the appearance of two moons, one in the sky and the other, a reflection in the water. The tihais in teen taal are brilliant, the dancer turning into a deer on the sam every time. The camera seems excited with aerial angles, but when it tries to keep pace with the dancer at eye-level, it’s disturbing.
As she leaps throughout the forest as a deer, Aditi’s vitality is unstoppable — she executes a 33-chakkar sequence because the deer sees the moon emerges from the clouds.
