Powerful tribute to ebb and flow of life

Nirmala Seshadri

CRY JAILOLO 
Eko Supriyanto 
da:ns festival 
Esplanade Theatre Studio/Wednesday

Photo: BERNIE NG, COURTESY OF ESPLANADE - THEATRES ON THE BAY

Through the dark stillness emerged the sound of a quick and determined tapping of a foot. The lower body of a male dancer, dressed in red pants that extended just below the knees, was gradually seen. Slowly, his bare upper torso became visible. He stood there at centre stage, bobbing up and down.

That one movement and the sound that it produced conveyed the idea of an individual that is closely connected to land and sea. He could have been human, fish or even coral.

 After a few minutes, two men dressed in the same attire walked onto the stage from opposite sides. They introduced an eerie silence that was in strong contrast to the dancer in the centre who continued with the same movement and sound.

As they moved forward, the foot-tapping became softer. The men stood still. The stern anxiety written on their faces, coupled with the introduction of evocative instrumental music, created a sense of pathos.

Cry Jailolo, a gripping new work by Indonesian choregrapher Eko Supriyanto, highlighted the plight of a small coastal community in Indonesia. Behind the magnificent beauty lies the imminent ruination of Jailolo's coral reefs and marine life by dynamite-fishing practices.

Seven dancers, who belong to various tribes and farming families there, represented their histories, movement practices and contemporary realities in the hour-long work that placed the onus of representation entirely on the dancers' bodies. They were supported by highly sensitive lighting and music. 

The dramatic bobbing was the main movement in the hour-long work. With this and other movements derived from the traditional dance forms of Legu Salai (from the Sahu tribe) and Soya-Soya (from North Maluku), the dancing bodies traversed a range of forms and configurations - at times, they seemed to portray a school of fish until they appeared human. There were moments of individual expression as well as the sense of a protective community that moved together in its struggles, an idea that was accentuated by the pulsating rhythm. At one point, the cast used their voices to shout in unison what translated into: "When we are together we become stronger and work can be done." (This was explained to the audience during the post-performance dialogue.)

In one segment, all seven dancers stood staring at the audience for a long time. It was a deep and penetrating silence. The audience became perceptibly uneasy. I began to feel a surge of guilt as well as pain. Environmental degradation spares no one. There was some relief when the beat and movement returned.

Cry Jailolo was a powerful tribute to the ebb and flow of life and the indefatigable spirit of nature with its determination to survive against all odds. Here, the male body became a site for both perpetration and suffering, while also blurring the boundary between human and aquatic forms.

Towards the end, each dancer exited the stage, the production ending in the way it had opened. One lone male dancer bobbing at centre stage. The same movement and the same sound except that now, it was imbued with hope.

Versions of this review appeared in the online and print editions of The Straits Times on October 15 and 16, 2015 respectively, with the headline 'Powerful tribute to ebb and flow of life'.

Reflecting on Sethu Bandhanam

Sethu Bandhanam  (Bridging Musical Genres) 

by Dr. Bhagya Murthy

Singapore Polytechnic Auditorium, September 23, 2015

As she took her position on the raised platform and began to sing, immaculately dressed in a saree and hair adorned with her signature malli poo, I couldn't help but be transported back to the early 80s. 

Singapore. Cultural Theatre. Opposite the Marco Polo Hotel. Today neither place exists. But the memory of Bhagya Murthy, sitting on that stage and singing the Puranada Dasar kriti Yamanelli Kanenendu in Sivaranjani raga came back to me. I was a fairly young bharatanatyam dancer then; hearing her sing brought tears to my eyes that evening. I remember going straight to her after the performance and telling her that I longed to dance to her singing. And for quite a few years after that, she did sing for me - how she made me move and emote. How can I ever forget Baro Krishnayya, with Bhagya's voice and Ghanavenothan Retnam's flute. I would insist that Ghana play that Ga before the verse that opened with Kankana Karadalli.

The September 23rd production titled Sethu Bandanam opened with a Purandara Dasar Ugabogha in raga Brindavani. As Bhagya began to sing, it was as if she was beckoning me to dance again, in the way that I used to dance. The power in her voice was mesmerising. In producing this work she was supported in music composition and direction by noted Singapore flautist and Young Artist Award recipient Ghanavenothan Retnam, who also performed. Joining the celebrated duo were a stellar orchestra comprising leading musicians belonging to the present-day Singapore landscape.

Watching and listening to Bhagya, Ghana and mridangist TV Ramanan took me back to all my solo performances as I was growing up in Singapore - in theatre spaces such as the then Drama Centre at Fort Canning Rise and at temple festivals. We worked with so much camaraderie, so much devotion. 

Sethu Bandhanam that translates into 'a bridge constructed' was a bridge at many levels. Firstly, the production attempted to trace the evolution of Indian music in Singapore through the decades. In doing so, it presented a range of musical genres - classical, semi-classical, film, popular and folk music and traversed diverse ragas and talas. The music of ancient composers such as Purandara Dasar, Trinity of Carnatic Music - Tyagaraja, Muthuswami Dikshitar and Syama Sastri, Tulsidas, Oothukkadu Venkata Kavi, Swathi Thirunal, Papanasam Sivan was juxtaposed with that of local composers such as Jesudassan, Kavignareru Amallathasan and Dick Lee. The audience was treated to songs in Tamil, Sanskrit, Telugu, Kannada, Malayalam, Hindi, Mandarin, Malay and last (but certainly not least) English. 

Interesting and important connections were drawn between the journey of Indian music through the Singapore landscape over five decades and that of the history and development of the nation-state. Kudos to the MC for the evening  - dancer and scholar Shobha Vadrevu, who presented an excellent link between the music and its milieux.  

Bhagya did well to include other talented musicians in her production. Vocalists Sajith Thekke and Aditi Gopinathan gave riveting renditions. (Aditi, by the way, is a rubber stamp of her mother Varija Menon who used to be my Balvihar teacher at the Chinmaya Mission at an old building at Norris Road that I'm sure has since been demolished. When she tried teaching us "Hari Om Tat Sat", 5-year old me heard it as "Hari Om Get Set" while to my 9-year old sister's ears it was "Hari Om That's It"!) I found myself literally dancing in my seat when the duo sang the famous song "Alapanam" from the 1982 Malayalam movie Gaanam. It was a different dance for each song  - the Kavadi Chindu, Shankara Sri Giri, Ranjanamala, Ksheerasagara, Thumaka Chalat, Bho Shambho and the Thillana/Tarana.  All these tunes are still ringing in my head. I must confess that I have never danced so shamelessly in my seat before, except for the one time at the Madras Music Academy when the band Indian Ocean sang Khandisa and Asheem Chakravarthy began his captivating alaap in Desh. One lone woman stood up and danced helplessly! 

Certain aspects of Sethu Bandhanam seemed a bit trite. The photographs and video clips, for instance, needed a professional hand. The red and white costumes - the colours of the national flag, became somewhat of an overstatement. The show was about two and a half hours long without an interval; some editing would have lent a crispness to the production. Also, the music tended to be too loud but I wonder if this is a Singapore thing as I have felt this way during other Indian orchestral performances as well. 

In the final section of the performance, the compositions that stood out for their sheer brilliance and vibrancy were the Thillana/Tharana that was arranged musically by Ghana and Swami Dayananda Saraswati's famous Bho Shambho. The timing of Sethu Bandhanam was uncanny for the very next day came news of Swami Dayananda Saraswati's attainment of Samadhi. 

The production drew into its frame younger artists such as Viknesvari Vadivalagan and Vishnu Veluri as well as a range of noted Singaporean Chinese and Malay musicians who merged quite seamlessly with the Indian orchestra. The audience was spellbound when Ismahairie Putra rendered his brief but captivating violin solo. While all the instrumentalists gave their best to the evening, I did wish that T.K. Arunkumar's veena was given some space to be heard and savoured. 

A performer both on stage as well as television, as well as a teacher, Bhagya has received numerous awards both in Singapore and in India. Her smile, laughter, openness, passion and single-pointed devotion to music - these are some of the qualities that Bhagya has carried with her on her unique journey that she began as a young housewife who had just arrived in Singapore from Bangalore. In those days, she she spoke very little Tamil but was always ready to face new and fresh challenges. I remember how she would call it her "ketta dhairyam". Well, it has definitely opened doors, enriching and uplifting herself and so many others in the process. To quote Guest of Honour Dr. Uma Rajan, "Bhagya holds music close to her heart with a loving and fierce tenderness, and is as creatively generous as possible". On September 23rd, she also presented her young and upcoming students who formed the choral group. 

For me, Sethu Bandhanam was an intense reconnection with the varied aspects of my own past. I was moved in ways that I had not anticipated. 

NIRMALA SESHADRI

SOFTLY, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.
In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.

PIANO - DH Lawrence, 1885

Ganapati Vandanam

Ganapati Vandanam

https://clyp.it/5txh1krc

An offering to Ashtavinayak

Sai Nandanvanam

Composed and sung by Nirmala Seshadri 

with T.V. Ramprasadh (Vocal) & B.V. Balasai (Flute) 

Produced by Sri Krishna Satya Sai Gajanan Pratishtan (Chakur, Latur)

Mesmerising Segments and Imported Novices : The Paradox of Smriti Padha

A Review by Nirmala Seshadri

 

sifa.sg

September 4^th and 5^th saw the manifestation of the much-talked about and anticipated Smriti Padha staged as part of the Singapore International Festival of Arts 2015. The production was marketed over many months as the return to a point in Singapore’s past, 61 years ago, when the same core performance group -Kerala Kalamandalam from India, performed their renowned work Dussasana Vadham at the same venue - the Victoria Theatre. At that time, Singapore’s pioneering dance guru the late Mr. K.P Bhaskar is said to have been instrumental in the staging of the Kathakali performance.

Smriti Padha, which means ‘memory thread’, was a looking back at that point in history and in that sense tied in closely with the ongoing celebrations of Singapore’s 50^th year of independence. Dussasana Vadham by present-day Kerala Kalamandalam artists was the main performance of the evening.  Joining the cast from India in telling the story of the slaying of Dussasana were Singapore-based artists Kalamandalam Biju, Kalarangan Santhosh Kumar and Kalamandalam Prasad, who Bhaskar had brought to Singapore as part of his deep desire to form a Kathakali troupe here. 

I recall a 2012 interview in which Mr. Bhaskar gave me the background of this troupe – his pride and joy, saying to me, “I am a Kathakali man!”. As I watched the Kathakali performed that night, I could not help but remember fondly the ‘Kathakali man’.  

Dussasana Vadham - Kathakali

As soon as the emotive Sopanam style singing began and the sound of the chenda and maddalam reverberated loudly, I became aware of a submission within myself to being transfixed. They had all the means of transporting us into that timeless space – oh those costumes, masks, acting, rhythm, singing and above everything, the supreme confidence. Yes, we were in the hands of master storytellers.

Seven years ago, I witnessed the Kalamandalam artists perform overnight at the late choreographer Chandralekha’s open air theatre at her home in Chennai. My friend, artistic collaborator and translator/film historian Dr. Vasanthi Sankaranarayanan who was with me that night later penned these words on this very blog:

“The elaborate masks and costumes heightened the quality of other-worldliness and fantasy and without any Brechtian effort reminded us of alienation and distanciation. And yet it was not just that but the theatre of transformation that prevailed, where emotions had an important part to play. They were never trivial or sentimental expressions of emotion but the elevated, universally applicable kind of emotions which made us face the inevitability of human condition without any fan fare.” 

These words came back to me as I watched the tale unfold on September 5^th.

The chilling climax saw Bheema disemboweling Dussanna and subsequently drying his bloody hands on Draupadi’s hair. As the sound levels of the percussions rose higher and higher, I couldn’t help but feel that Kathakali is for the outdoors; the sound needs to be free to travel. Also, there is something magical about watching it under the sky and stars.

Epilogue & Prologue 

After the loud banging of drums, the epilogue that followed came as a relief. A group of young girls dressed in green saris with pink borders provided a refreshing break. This section was choreographed in the Mohiniattam style by Mrs. Santha Bhaskar, the late K.P Bhaskar’s wife who is a respected and revered dance guru and pioneer in Singapore. The piece, aimed at reflecting Draupadi’s consequent peaceful state of mind and the joy that abounded in the city, dragged slightly but was beautifully choreographed, pleasing and gracefully executed by dancers from Kalamandalam.

It was a treat to listen to renowned Chennai-based flautist B.V. Balasai live on the flute, who composed the music for this and the prologue to the show. His music was pleasing in parts but was in general fussy with too much instrumentation. A combination of live and recorded tracks, the music for both segments seemed disjointed within itself and from the core Kathakali segment of the show.

The 3 segments of the show did not come across as a seamless and integrated whole. While the core Kathakali segment was clear in its intent and delivery, the purpose and content of the prologue and epilogue, that sandwiched the Kathakali, did not always come across clearly.

The opening of the production by a group of male movement artists was especially disappointing. While the female dancers in the epilogue succeeded in concluding the show on an Apollonian note, the prologue by the young male Kathakali dancers, meant to depict the Pandava army’s preparation for war, seemed contained in Bharatanatyam choreographic structures and solkattus and was not a Dionysiac enough prelude to the Kathakali section. The final pose in this segment was however a powerful one, representing the chariot all set for battle.

On the whole, Smriti Padha presented the most seasoned of India’s artists and the country’s novices on the same platform. The young dancers in the opening and closing sections, students of Kalamandalam who were flown in from India for the show, seemed inexperienced. Instead, this might have been a good opportunity to encourage promising local talent. 

At the end of the day, with such brilliant Kathakali as the filling in the sandwich, Smriti Padha was a memorable experience.

Returning to a Lingering Question

"Returning" was the opening show of the Singapore International Arts Festival 2015. This review of the Aug 12th showing was published in The Straits Times on Aug 13th 2015. 

http://www.straitstimes.com/lifestyle/arts/review-goh-lay-kuans-returning-is-a-flawed-return-to-traditional-dance-forms

RETURNING - a review by Nirmala Seshadri 

Goh Lay Kuan
Drama Centre Theatre
Thursday 

Conceived and directed by Singapore dance pioneer and Cultural Medallion recipient Goh Lay Kuan, this performance marked an emphatic return to traditional dance forms of the Chinese, Malay and Indian communities in Singapore.

Photo Credit: Ng Yuan Jie

As the opening show of this year's Singapore International Arts Festival on Thursday, it stepped back into the "gotong royong" spirit of closeness and co-operation, a feature of kampung or village life in Singapore, to underscore the value of looking back in order to move forward.

Inspired by the treacherous and miraculous journey of the salmon, the work represented the aftermath of colonial rule and the onslaught of neo-liberal capitalism. Divided into five segments to reflect the various stages of the salmon's lifecycle, Returning acknowledged that much has been lost.

The performance lent emphasis to local traditional dance forms. In an artistic landscape that has prioritised Western forms such as ballet for a few decades now, it was refreshing to witness a shift in focus in this production. 

However, Returning had its flaws with its uneven quality of dance and choreography in different segments with some outdated parts. Its tight casting within the official ethnic classification gave it a feel of a racial harmony performance at a community centre.

On the whole, the production came across as being literal in its various aspects with the costumes appearing televisual. The high point of the show was the music.

The performance opened with a soulful musical rendition by the team of musicians from diverse backgrounds. This was followed by an Indian dance segment choreographed by Meenakshy Bhaskar in which eight dancers, dressed in grey costumes, wore reddish circular lantern-like objects over their heads to represent translucent salmon eggs. These were gradually removed to depict the development of the embryos into alevins, which are newly spawned salmon.

Although the fluffy translucent appendage at the back of their costumes was meant to represent alevins, it appeared somewhat disjointed, calling to mind less serious and lyrical contexts such as puppets in children's television shows.

The second and third segments featured Chinese and Malay dance choreography by Jenny Neo and Osman Abdul Hamid respectively. The dancers were dressed in similar grey outfits and conveyed the life cycle transitions through minor additions in the costume, such as changes in the appendages on the back and head gear that looked like shower caps.

Overall, the costumes would have benefited from more subtlety. The use of the "Matsya" (fish) gesture from the classical Indian dance idiom in each segment also became literal and repetitive beyond a point.

The first 45 minutes were nostalgic performances of ethnicity, seemingly rooted in historical platforms such as the Aneka Ragam Rakyat of the late 1950s. The dancers moved with grace and ease, and their passion was evident.

However, it was like sitting in a time warp since much has happened by way of cross-cultural exploration, exchange and collaboration in the dance scene in Singapore. 

The last two segments by Hamid and Low Ee Chiang were vibrant and stirring in the ways that the dance and music blended. There was a contemporary feel to the choreography here with the traditional forms barely glimpsed in the movements. It appeared to be aimed at projecting the present reality, that of the traditional Asian forms being buried in Westernised frameworks.

The reintroduction of the "Matsya" gesture in the final scene as the dancers walked forward suggested a resurgence of traditional forms as a means of moving into the future.

The music for the production, directed by Julian Wang, was nothing short of brilliant, and the musicians selected were experienced and of a high calibre.

While it is commendable that the young dancers were stretched to learn and perform the various forms, the dance did not effectively convey the overall theme.

Returning marks Goh's return to choreography after a hiatus of 20 years to reclaim what has been lost in the scene.

"Do we need to reclaim a lost past?" is the question that lingers. Rather than seeking return and reclamation, there might be a wealth of possibility in acknowledging our roots and present realities, and moving forward from here.