Basheer Centenary in Chennai-

an event that signifies brotherhood, friendliness, and Peace

Vasanthi Sankaranarayanan
January 17th 2008


Sometimes a group of people are enthused to do something extraordinary that fills old, tired souls like me with happiness and hope. For me, that was what happened when I watched the inaugural function of the three week long Basheer Centenary in Chennai, organized by a comparatively new organization, PERCH (Performers of Chennai) formed by two enterprising young people, Kaveri Lalchand and Rajiv Krishnan. I think this was their first event.

A Three week long celebrations to mark the hundredth year of Basheer’s birth (January 21, 1908). Who was Basheer? You ask that question in Kozhicode or anywhere in Kerala, everyone knows about him. He was a writer, a writer with a special brand of humour, a writer who wrote in Malayalam that could be understood even by the commonest of common people of Kerala and yet had strains of profound mysticism, difficult to translate into any other language or even paraphrase into any other regional dialect of Malayalam. As Paul Mathew of Perch put it, Basheer was not just a writer, he was a mystic and a mad man too. He had traveled all over India, done all kinds of jobs for survival. But, to me Basheer was first and foremost a humanist, a man of peace, celebrating whose life and works is the need of the hour. His philosophy of life was so simple and yet so profound; love human beings and this universe itself; feel the sweetness, joy and pathos of life; live in harmony with nature and all beings. He lived such a life in a small town, Beypore near Kozhicode. He was known as the “Sultan of Beypore”. He was indeed a Sultan, a large-hearted person, who could absorb the agonies of the entire world and still smile and make others happy.

In Kerala, the land of his birth, year-long celebrations have been planned. But, that is only natural, isn’t it? After all, what did they or any other region or establishment do for him while he was alive. They did not give him prestigious award , The Padmasri to Bharat Ratna awards, they did not elevate him to a “gnanapeeth”. Why, did they give him at least some Sahitya Akademi awards or the great “Kalidas Samman”. No, they did not. Did the Sultan of Beypore feel dejected and despondent? No. He led a full life, surrounded by loving friends and relatives, a man whose presence is felt only when he is absent. I am reminded of the movie, “Patton” where towards the end there is a passage, “They did not honour him like the victorious Roman Generals, with gold coins, girls, horses and festivities. The Germans, the enemies, whom he tried to conquer knew him better”. I think that is the situation of all truly great people. The people around them, the people for whom they fight and sacrifice their lives and comforts of life never know their worth. Only when the outsiders, the foreigners recognize their worth and honour them, the locals also rise and make gestures of appreciation. Tagore after he won the Nobel Prize, C.V. Raman after he was awarded the same prize. Oh India, the land which is famous for ignoring the living and honouring the dead, what do you know of the agonies of neglect, humiliation and outcasting? There are many Nandanars standing in front of Chidambaram temples yearning to go in and have a glimpse of the great God. But, will the doors open for them during their life time?

This is why it is so heartening and soul-uplifting when an organization like Perch, a non-Malayali, a non-Kerala organization decided to honour and celebrate a Kerala writer. This was felt by Aneesh Basheer, Basheer’s son who was specially invited for the inaugural function. He said “I am not a speaker. I cannot speak well in Malayalam or English. I am here by virtue of the fact that I am the son of Basheer. And Vaikom Mohammed Basheer was a great man (I have never heard a simpler and more poignant tribute given by a son to a father!). All over Kerala they are holding celebrations in honour of Basheer. But, I have never felt the warmth and hospitality that was given to me here by the organizers of this function”. I have a tendency to be dramatic. And it comes out at the most unexpected times. So, I walked up to Rajiv and Kaveri and said: “Folks, when the history of Malayalam Literature with its chapter on Basheer is written, your names will be there, in golden letters. “ They felt embarrassed. But, what to do, even small people have to make big gestures, at times like this, don’t we?

I have to comment on the elegant and appropriate manner in which the inaugural was held. Characters from Basheer’s famous short stories, like Mandan Muthapa, Ettukali Mammoonju came below the stage and kick-started the events by introducing themselves and making the audience participants of the event. They cleverly connected it to the “Oppana” dance performed by the girls trained at Saradhi Academy. Then Paul Mathew gave an introduction on Basheer and the purpose of the celebrations. The meeting, speeches short and to the point by representatives of the three organizations who collaborated in the event, the Malayalee Club, The Asan Memorial Organisation , Saradhi Academy of Arts and Culture spoke. After the Meeting the lamp was lit, not the traditional kuthuvilakku with burning wicks. A Hurricane lamp, with blue frames to signify the one film script that Basheer has written, “Neela Velicham”(Blue light) which came out as “Bhargavi Nilayam” on the silver screen. Hurricane Lamp for the poor malayali writer, not the golden brass lamp lit in front of Gods! Aneesh Basheer inaugurated the photo exhibition by placing a photograph of Basheer on the easy chair kept under a cane structure, symbolizing the famous mangosteen tree under which Basheer sat and talked with his friends. A film “Antamillatha Yatra” (Endless Journery) on Basheer by the documentary film maker, M.R. Rajan was then shown. That’s it. It was clear that a great deal of research had been done by Perch on Basheer. The events organized for these three weeks touch all aspects of Basheer’s life and works. The plays are carved out of his inimitable short stories; the dance was a Muslim folk dance performed at times of marriages. The week long festival at “Ente Keralam” would showcase the delicacies of the Muslim cuisine. Two films, “Mathilukal” by Adoor Gopalakrishnan and “Bhargavi Nilayam will be shown at Satyam Theatre. Adoor himself is coming to initiate a discussion on his film. It seems he said, when he was invited for the function, ‘Oh, so you are the Basheer Lady?” Yes, indeed she is the Basheer lady who is trying to spread the fragrance of a great man in distant lands. The events will conclude on January 27 with a seminar on Basheer and a music performance including all the favourite songs of Basheer. So, the many-faceted life and times of Basheer will be effectively and unostentatiously captured in Chennai, where two enterprising people have recognized the Sultan’s worth. Rajiv had staged a play entitled “Moonshine and Sky Toffee” combining two stories of Basheer, “Prema Lekhanam” (love letter) and “Mucheetttu kalikkarante Makal” (The card-sharper’s daughter) in 2004 at which time he asked his group of actors, “Have you read Basheer?” At that time they hadn’t. He insisted that they all should read him in translation. That is the beginning of this movement, the movement to honour Basheer. All movements have simple beginnings. But, they grow and grow into events that encompass not only the region where it began, but the whole universe.

The beginning of a new year is always fraught with mixed feelings. The challenges of the year and an unknown future are there. But, along with it there is a feeling of loss, loss of something precious, something poignant. At such times there must be events encompassing these two feelings – hope for the future and nostalgia for the past. The Basheer Centenary Celebrations by Perch has done that for me. In a world, filled with war and destruction, in a world where love is lost and hatred is breeding, in a world where inertia and apathy are slowly taking hold, this kind of a celebration is rejuvenating. All I can do is hope that the enthusiasm of Kaveri, Rajiv and their young friends will spread on to everyone in Chennai and outside Chennai. Basheer, wherever he is, must be
happy.

Kathakali – An all night experience

by Vasanthi Sankaranarayanan
January 17th 2008

Twilight. Time for mellowness. It is also a time when day ends and night begins. We mourn for the dead day and welcome the new night. Twilight is a time of expectation; sadness; yearning; harbinger of night, a veil over the harshness that clarity of the day brings. Night is a time for sleep, burying all sorrows and anxieties and preparing oneself for a new day.

But, on that day, the first day of the year, the twilight that spread over Skills Theatre at Besant Nagar, where Chandralekha lived and died, and infused the very earth that she trod on with her energy had a special quality. Chandra died on December 30, 2007. A year had passed after her death. But, to those of us who knew her, loved and respected her she was still present at Skills as the breeze that played on the nameless tree (I feel like calling it Chandra tree) in front of the stage, the memories of Sadanand and Dashrath who had been her constant companions and friends, the sea shore, a silent witness to all her activities, over which she wanted to be build a stage to dance facing the natural forces that come alive at dusk and dawn. Oh, Chandra, where are you, wherever you are, be with us and fuel us with your undying energy.

Sadanand, Dashrath and Sasi had planned to celebrate Chandra’s death anniversary with performances dear to her…..Kalari in the new hall that has been built, Singing by Gundechas and an all night Kathakali from the Kalamandalam troupe from Kerala. I could not attend the first and the second event as I was away at Bombay. But, I did return the day before the Kathakali was to be held. I thanked my stars for I have not seen an all night Kathakali for a long time that evoked memories of my childhood and adolescence in Kerala, the innumerable times I had visited the Kalamandalam on Vallthol’s birthday and witnessed stalwarts like Kunchu Kurup, Krishnan Nair, Vazhenkada Kunchu Nair, Mankulam Vishnu Namboodiri Pattikamthodi Ravunni Menon and Ramankutty Nair taking on the roles for which they were famous. I have even had the benefit of detailed explanations by my Namboodiri ancestors on the “Manodharmam” done by these stalwarts sans songs and accompanying instruments such as Chenda. It would not be out of place if I said that Kathakali is in my blood even as Panchavadyam and Tayampaka are. After coming to Madras one rarely got an opportunity to see a real Kathakali, starting with the Kelikkottu and ending in Duryodhana Vadham or some such piece. Needless to say I was charged with such enthusiasm and energy to be part of such an event once again. Nostalgia. I once again became a child watching these performances. Sleep did not come to me. I was wide awake in spite of the sleepless nights I had spent at Bombay, that crazy city, the previous week.

So, when the big brass lamp was lit and the instrumentalists began to tune their instruments I was in another world, a world where we as children did not feel the absence of electricity, computers, games, channel TV or the frenzied Sabha hopping that the season in Chennai calls for. I felt very safe, anchored, sure in my capability to interpret, understand and analyse the performance. For those brief hours, I felt like a patron of Kathakali, who saw it for the pure joy of seeing it. Sadanand and Dashrath should be thanked for recreating the village atmosphere to the last detail. There was tea and coffee and small eats sold outside. There were people sitting on the ground, their eyes glued on the stage. There was an air of festivity and pure joy that happens only in a village festival or fair. Three stories were taken up for the performance – Kalyana Sowgandhikam, Keechaka Vadham and Duryodhana Vadham. Fine, my favorites Nalacharitam, 1st day and Bali Vijayam were not there, so what. Kalamandalam Gopi could not come because he fell ill, so what. There was Raman Kutty Nair and his famous Vella Thadi Hanuman. There was some other-worldly Sopana style singing by Mohana Krishan and his team. Youngsters like Kalamandalam Haridas were truly good. How can we living in Chennai hope for a better show? Such and arid and parched earth, on which fell the first drops of the monsoon rain! I realized that I was really lucky to know every single detail pertaining to this dance form. All the reading that I have done, all the research and analysis and the rare experience of having seen all these stories performed at least three or four times by consummate artists. What a good beginning for an otherwise bleak year! I praise you Sadanand, Manasa, Vacha, Karmana for this glimpse of what I consider heaven.

The singing was outstanding. What feelings, what clarity, what discipline and thoroughness and what untiring energy to sustain the tempo throughout the night. Never once did it flag or loose its flavour. And when it was Duryodhana Vadham, even the lyrics, heard and memorized took on another inflexion. The pathos of Draupadi.s “Paripalaya Mam”(protect me) and the combativeness of “ Gnyati Vatsala Bhuripujita” were poignant and thrilling. In Kathakali, music plays an important role in evoking the required emotions and giving the necessary support to the dance. It is known in popular parlance as “oomakkali” the play of the mute, but music fulfils the role of the sound and dialogue. Sopana singing is remarkable and different from the classical carnatic and Hindustani styles of singing. It is like mounting the insurmountable stairs in an invisible staircase. There were other songs too that were remarkable.

The costumes were resplendent and added to the spectacular quality of the dance. 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. There was story, history and mysticism all combined in a subtle manner. There was humour too, at times piercing and at other times gentle. Repetition was used as a device in the song as well as the dance to mirror the repetitiveness of real life and the circularity of life eternal.


One thing is clear. It was not mere revivalism of the classical form. It was on the other hand, a positive and hopeful statement that authenticity does not necessarily exclude originality or innovation. It was also an assertion that there are certain art forms which if served as vitamin capsules or cocoa cola and pop corn would not have any effect at all. Everyone has to take time off and enter into the spirit of the dance. Not your abridged Bharatanatyam recital which jumps from Pushpanjali straight to Varnam and then to Tillana. Sure it is a ritualistic dance; but that does not mean it has to be reduced into a ritual. The human body which adds newness to movement and the human emotions which go deeper than skin can always rejuvenate and find its links with tradition or modernity. It is also not catering to instant Nescafe training schemes. Discipline, commitment and resilience cannot be forgotten whether you are repeating an item or you are experimenting on a new interpretation. No pleasing the audience and their routine of eating curd rice and going to sleep by 9.30 p.m. No pandering to the excuses with regard to distances and traffic jams. They were created by the system of which you, the audience are also a part. So, you have to bear the onus of it, not pass it on to the artist and the quality of his performance. The artist is not coming to you with a begging bowl, pleading with you to watch his/her performance. The artist performs. That’s it. If you want to share that artistic journey you go to him or her on their terms. It is very heartening that this Kathakali renewed the faith in the artist and his capabilities and beckoned the viewers to share in the glory of his performance.

Feminism and Performing Arts in India- Some Thoughts

by Vasanthi Sankaranarayanan
January 17th 2008

Apology. Begin with an apology. That is my usual trait. For a person who is normally very assertive, I turn apologetic, the moment I start writing on subjects which are close to my heart, but do not know enough. I revel in my original thoughts; I manage to substantiate them also. However, I do not seek established theories or academic discussions or even quotable quotes to justify or prove what I have to say. Instead, I fall back on my own fund of knowledge and experience and wade through a process of argument. Sometimes, and to some extent, it succeeds. But, most of the times people, especially the academicians and theoreticians are not impressed by what they consider as my gimmicks. There was a time when I used to crave for the approval of these people. But, now, I have gone past all that. It does not matter to me that the learned crowd does not appreciate my capability for original thought. I only hope this capacity to arrive at original (maybe puerile) conclusions will never leave me. There is not enough time to master all the theories and the results of academic wisdom and prolonged research. Honestly, I get bored by the content as well as the language used in such research works. So, I desist from that and go back to what I consider original thinking.

So, with this piece of writing also I have to apologise for not being profounder. At the outset I have to state that this is not a well researched paper on the subject. It is only the outcome of lingering thoughts I have had on the subject, out of which at a future date, I may prepare a well structured and thought out research paper. Arguments in this paper will be substantiated not through quoting other documents already written or presented, but my own original and cogent ideas and thought processes.

By Feminism, I mean broadly all that pertains to women and adds value to their cause. By cause I mean the various rights – right to be free, (free thought, free expression, free emotions, free employment) and to have security and protection while exercising those rights. By Performing Arts I mean mainly dance and theatre. Again I would like to emphasise on dance or dance drama.

When we examine the performing arts scene of India, we come across art forms from which women are completely excluded such as Kathakali, Yakshagana, Bhagavatha Mela Nataka and Terukoothu. As we seek for reasons why women are prohibited from these dance forms, we get arguments such as they are very vigorous and therefore causing strain to the body of women. Again, even the body training given to artists such as Uzhichil(body massage) and training in martial arts (Kalaripayattu) are tough and considered to be harmful to the female body and its function in child birth. First of all why have movements which only men can physically perform and challenge women to put themselves through the strain of mastering them? So, excluding women from the arts in the name of strain is not acceptable. The second argument that one hears is that Kathakali training and practice involves a great deal of community living. And women, after a certain age, having their own families, will not be in a position to fully adapt to this community living. Performances in different locations will take them away from home and upset the life at home. Children will be left without anyone to take care of them. Cooking, cleaning and taking care of the house will not be done satisfactorily. Again, this is not a good argument. Times have changed and why should women alone take on the burden of family, children etc? What can’t men also chip in and share the burden and find some workable solution. There are other options such as taking children with you when you go on tours etc. What the children loose by way of monotonous school studies, they gain from experiences and association with different types of people in different places. Also, why not men and women take turns to look after children as they do in Scandinavian countries? . So, in conclusion I feel that exclusion of women from certain art forms is not based on rational or humane arguments, but patriarchal impulses and instincts.

Now, let us take another scenario where women are allowed to fully take part in the performance of art forms. The classic case is that of Bharatanatyam, where the solo woman dancer takes the centre stage most of the times. Now, of course, the situation has changed and even men have started performing Bharatanatyam. But, look at the state of the solo Bharatanatyam dancer. She is in every ways objectified and subjected to the male gaze. She is in fact, performing to please men. The emotions portrayed, the stances taken, the associative ideas are all supporting this objectification. She may seem to be a very independent operator, but, in effect, she is literally and metaphorically dancing to the tune of the Nattuvanar, the singer the accompanying instrumentalists especially the mridangist whose loud and fast tempo produces sounds which literally drown the dancers movements and distracts the audience from her dancing. She is dressed like a doll, she dances like a doll; finally she is transformed into a doll, a doll which gyrates and moves to please an audience, especially a male audience. There is no exaltation of the body or the spirit. She just moves and acts like a robot and produces loud, prolonged thumped claps which she is forced to accept as marks of appreciation. More and More her movements and expressions are becoming convoluted and contrived. She has no connection with reality; nor is she allowed any leeway to move away from the traditional structure in form or theme. It is at best a soul-killing experience.

The last section with regard to women and performing arts is the part played by the audience in promoting these stereotypical ideas and stances. The audience, not only men, but women too are oblivious by far to the implications of the roles played by women when they perform or not perform arts. They are happy to witness maintenance of status quo and aversion to experimentation. Any change or move is vociferously voted down in the name of maintaining the purity and authenticity of the classical form. So, there is no protest even from the audience at this mindless continuance of patently patriarchal practices. Unless, we can get rid of this aversion to experimentation through protest or the extreme measure of banning the presentation of the accumulated baggage there is no salvation to women in performing arts.