Dancing back to their roots -by Suresh Nair  
     
 

AN 1800- year-old art form from Kerala is coming to the city. But are the Malayalees (or anyone else) interested? Suresh Nair pops the question

KUTIYATTAM, they say, is the oldest surviving form of Sanskrit theatre. So old that no many know that it has actually survived for 1800 years in Kerala, the state of its origin. But there is a hope for Mumbai's connoisseurs of classical culture as Prithvi Theatre is all set to kick off a three-day festival of ancient Indian Women's Classical Theatre from December 22-24, with extracts from Kutiyattam and its obscure offshoot, Nangiar Koothu. But why should that interest anybody in this city of pace, pop and pomp?
"We don't expect a mass audience for such a show," says Ramachandran, secretary of Keli, a Mumbai-based organisation dedicated to promoting traditional and classical Kerala art forms. "But people who want to see ideals will be there. I admit there is a slight difficulty in understanding its nuances, but that doesn't mean it can't be appreciated". During the festival, 84 year-old Padmashree awardee Ammannur Madhava Chakyar, the foremost exponent of Kutiyattam today and a significant contributor to its survival, will be felicitated by presenting him with pattu (royal cloth of appreciation) and vala (traditional gold bangle). Six years ago, Chakyar was honoured with the prestigious Kalidasa Samman by the Madhya Pradesh government.
Kutiyattam was over the years carefully nurtured by the Chakyar and Nambiar communities. While male and female characters were given equal importance in the early days of Kutiyattam, the latter slowly faded out and returned to the forefront in an offshoot theatre form called Nangiar Koothu. Interestingly, this uniquely ancient all-women theatrical display evolved within a highly feudal society in Kerala - which appears to be an exception, since nowhere else in feudal history were women apparently allowed this kind of theatrical freedom. "Nangiar Koothu are basically stories of Lord Krishna," explains Ramachandran, "But physically, they are more demanding on the performers than Kutiyattam. There are scenes where a performer has come down flying from a height of 16 feet, or appear to be committing suicide." While Chakyar men often played the male characters in Kutiyattam, with Nambiar men as percussion drummers, a term Nangiar refers to a Nambiar woman. Incidentally, the Prithvi festival dedicated in the memory of Shri Painkulam Rama Chakyar, who broke conventions by taking these art forms outside temple premises and inducting three girls from outside the Nambiar community and training them in Nangiar Koothu.
While Ramachandran observes that Kerala's dying art forms get more appreciation from people outside the state, Sanjna Kapoor sees a vital need to preserve them through such festivals. "I think the more we get rooted in an urban environment," she says, "the more we need to connect with our classical art forms." Her first glimpse of Kutiyattam was two years ago when Keli organised a performance at Prithvi. "We did it in traditional light". Recalls Ramachandran. "The electricity was switched off and lamps were lit - just the way it used to happen in ancient times." The display left Sanjna highly impressed. "Before I saw it, people told me only a cannoisseur will be able to appreciate this form of theatre". In fact, when Keli organised Kathakali festival last year, she helped them get in touch with sponsors.
Will Mumbai's Malayalees actually be interested in Kutiyattam? "There is a growing interest in returning to the roots," observes Achuthan Menon, a retired central government employee. But it may be time before a graceful dance form like Mohiniyattam returns to its former glory. or Kalaripayattu , the ancient martial art of Kerala, finds more students in the couple of schools where it is still being taught to those eager to preserve and understand the spirit of the lagoon land.