A key to the ATTIC
By Swarnamalya Ganesh
I vividly remember a rehearsal day just a month before my
arangetram more than fifteen years ago. Sarasama—my guru KJ Sarasa—was sitting
in front of me at our Rani Annadurai Street dance class, supervising me
rehearsing the varnam that I was to present for my arangetram.
She whispered into the ears of
our musician, Gowri Akka, “Look at her lovely araimandi, she is almost in a
perfect half sit. She is really out there to impress Padma Amma.” I, the 12
year old who knew that a compliment from Sarasama was as rare as a perfect
araimandi in rehearsal, was surely peeking my ears to listen in even as I was
dancing, and needless to say was ecstatic at my guru’s observation.
Of course, I was working hard to
impress Dr.Padma Subrahmanyam, Paddu Akka, who was to be the chief guest at my
arangetram. I don’t know if I managed to impress her with my arangetram but I
was yet again so inspired by her. Her dazzling big jhumkas were also a great
attraction. I pestered my parents soon after my arangetram to buy me similar
jhumkas. They did and the first day I wore those jhumkas, I felt truly like her
fan! One that wanted to follow her and her path.
Incidentally it was this
araimandi pushed me in the direction of a thought process that was to shape me
into a researcher too. One day I was sitting with TSP Mama (Sri TS
Parthasarathy, the musicologist) in his home during my classes with him. He
spoke of the basic stance and suddenly asked to demonstrate it. I stood up and
proudly showed off my half sit.
He smiled and said, “Do you know
what the texts describe the araimandi to be? It is the halving of the lower
body starting from the torso in equal proportion to one’s own upper body.
Therefore, it is the subjective calculation of each person’s height and torso
length and it is the careful halving of that”. I was stumped. He further added
with a chuckle, “Anything more than this proportion would look like you are
sitting on a potty!” Mortified, I sat through the next few hours with Mama only
half listening to him speak on concepts of aucityam (propriety), soundaryam
(beauty) and much more.
I came home that day and
suddenly felt a rush of inadequacy in my understanding of a form, I until then
believed I was introduced to in its entirety, at least as far as performance
was concerned. I realized the need to look back at the grammar-s written down
to codify what the mind, body and psyche produce. This intellectualization of
dance beckoned me.
I had to work at this process of understanding my
Bharatanatyam, a deeply personal journey through its historic course when much
of its theorization was penned. As a student of history and archaeology, I was
and am even now, fascinated by the Cholas of the Tamil country (like many
others). Rajaraja and his magnificent contribution that is the Rajarajeswaram
is truly the holy grail. “What did the Cholas dance? What repertoire? What
compositions? How did they stitch the karanas into their choreography?” were
some of the impetus questions.
So, I headed for ground zero. When I looked up and saw the board “Thanjavur
Saraswati Mahal Library” I felt fresh blood was being pumped into me. My first
visit there as a serious researcher was in May 2006.
Armed with pen and paper, I walked in and got introduced
to the Administrative Officer. After a very warm welcome he gently asked me if
I would like a tour around the library. I said, “Yes, that would be great, but
I wish to speak to the Sanskrit and Telugu Pundits regarding a few
manuscripts”. He looked completely taken aback. He quickly re-checked if I was
in fact the “actor/dancer” Swarnamalya. When I smiled and replied in the
affirmative he asked me what I wanted to do in a library!
This is the general perception that people have.
When doctors, lawyers and other professionals engage in research, people take
them seriously, but when people in the entertainment world talk of research
(especially younger women) it is eyebrow-raising! Quite used to it, I explained
patiently to him that Dance was my passion and that I was a Masters Degree holder
in Bharatanatyam. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it and quietly guided me
to the Telugu Mss section.
Thrilled, I subjected the Telugu scholar to a long
monologue of how I needed to understand the connection between the dances of
the Chola period and that of the Tanjore Quartette (what we essentially
practise and perform). He looked at me blankly, and told me that I could go
through the catalogue of the Mss and see what I wanted to investigate.
I sat there at his spartan desk, under the tall
tombed, lime-washed pillars, on a wooden chair and grabbed the first catalogue
for Mss. That day passed. A tap on my shoulder from my
driver/guardian/confidant Kumar reminded me that it was 5 pm and time for the
library to close.
All day, everyday for the next four days and similar four/five days for the next three months, all I did was pore over the
catalogues religiously. I made detailed notes of every Mss I wanted to see,
check, read. I went to the Sanskrit, Tamil, and Marathi sections and did the
same.
After
a few months, I recognized my first understanding of dance history. Much of
contemporary dance history of the South is steered towards seeing its hoary
past and links to Vedic and early historic extant texts like the Natya Sastra.
While this link is undeniable, it is from the immediate cultural memory that
the performing traditions of today have been culled out. Its copula to
“Sadir-attam”, “dasi-attam” and also its close link to geographical and
political structures are its rich traditions. It is from these numerous
corpuses of dance repertoire that the Tanjore Quartette and others excogitated
the margam. Therefore, to comprehend the Chola dances I must find a tall ladder
that will take me from the known (Bharatanatyam) to the unknown through its
various immediate past memories. The association between art and political
power shift is an important paradigm too. The study of dance in the context of
a political, racial shift is the key to unlock this attic.
From the attic is a
journey through the immediate past centuries when the memories of modern
Bharatanatyam and Carnatic music were created. My seven years of research have
helped me identify the context of the art forms we practise and thereby find a
personal identity. From the attic is a process of reverse engineering, I
could say. It will reflect the various processes, lives of people, stories and
anecdotes from these eras. I hope to write about some of these in the issues to
come.
Still in possession of my
jhumkas, I endeavour to continue in this path, which makes me a performer and a
researcher turning the torch on to the corners hidden in the attic!
FROM THE ATTIC: a performance, lecture, exhibition
series of the past performing practices by Dr
Swarnamalya Ganesh, with a key to unlock the attic