Festivals which are more than a celebration

It is a veritable feast of dance, music and sculpture as carnivals bring monuments of history to life, says LEELA VENKATARAMAN.

DANCE FESTIVALS can be like fizz, bubbles and froth of the moment, dissolving without leaving behind any imprints on the mind. On the other hand, they can also be events which have, over time, acquired a special identity and are the recurring cultural landmarks of the art scene.

Begun in 1975, the Khajuraho Dance Festival was one of the earliest of its kind with a pan-Indian perspective, which explored the importance of ambience for a dance festival. The attempt to take the art back to the temple environs was not, as popularly deemed, prompted by any devotional urge, as by the need to re-establish the dance/sculpture connection, and bring into focus the inter-relatedness of art streams, that the Indian had lost sight of.

When the Archaeological Survey of India, for very valid reasons, edged the festival out of the compound of the temple complex, the elegantly lit silhouette of the Kandariya Mahadev temple provided a backdrop for the dance event, which asserted the truth that while sculpture captures the energy of movement in frozen stillness, dance through movements tries to catch that quality of inner silence. Ingrained in memory is the picture of Chitra Visweswaran, years ago, dancing for the Doordarshan camera in the early hours of the morning as the sun created magical light and shade effects on the polygonal outline of the Chitragupta temple, as a painter tried to catch impressions of the dance on his easel. All round were the exotically carved figures of the Surasundaris and the Gods and Goddesses - - a veritable feast of dance, music, sculpture and painting in one frame - all expressing the fullness of life.

Apart from the in-festival presentations, were the out-of- performance dialogues, where over a cup of coffee in the unpretentious dining hall of the Payal guest house, or under the large peepul tree just beside the Madras Coffee house, one tried to catch up on art gossip. There was crackling excitement in the air with scholars and artistes from all over India and many parts of the world exchanging views and comments, and opinions were thrown in with impunity. That bonhomie and the air of expectancy have gone out of the festival which, as for the last few years, controlled by sponsors and hoteliers, has become the monopoly of a close group of persons, its commercial angle giving it a touristy flavour. Now, it is tractors parked outside the performance stage that tell you that something more than aesthetic delight is the aim of the festival.

The Khajuraho festival became the forerunner for many similar events elsewhere, bringing to life dead monuments of history. Dance festivals held at the Gwalior Fort, at the Qutab Minar, and the annual Hampi Festival mounted by Pratibha Pratisthan in Karnataka, are but a few of these events where the festival derives its special energy and identity from its historical venue.

The Konarak Festival, that began a few years back in Orissa, has tried to capitalise on the glorious temple monument. But with just the tip of the temple shikhara visible behind the large performance stage designed with underground green room facilities, the dance/sculpture interaction has been minimised. But the festival is beginning to acquire a special place for group presentations, since its outsized stage tends to make the solo dancer get lost.

The vibes of a place provide a special energy to some dance festivals. The Tansen Music Festival held at the place sanctified by the cultural memory of the music giant, is one such event in which the participants are inspired to give their best.

The Sharad Utsav mounted by the Department of Culture in Uttar Pradesh at Brindavan is again a festival with a very distinctive resonance. Overcoming the crowded feel of gulleys filled with narrow cheek by jowl houses, lanes with choked drains, with rummaging in the litter monkeys whose pranks deprive many a pilgrim of his spectacles, his hand-bags or walking stick, and the Yamuna which is more like a cess pool in the dry months, Brindavan is Krishna Bhoomi and every thing from the `Radhe Radhe' greeting to the sound of temple bells and the myriads of ashram activities will remind you of it. And the festival of Sharad Purnima held outside the Radha Madhav Mandir is redolent of the mystic power of the Krishna myth, the large crowds watching, seated on dharies, needing little introduction to any aspect of the Krishna focus.

Another such dance festival which draws its appeal from the venue, is the annual Ganga Mahotsava, held at Benares on the banks of the Ganga, the specially built stage on stilts projecting out to the flowing river, its waters glistening under the night lights. I still recollect the scene of a large audience seated in gallery fashion on the steps of the Rajendra Ghat, watching in awe-struck silence the performance of Mrinalini Sarabhai's `Ganga', presented by Darpana Academy. The young Ganga was a beautiful dancer, in snow white costume dancing in the joy and freshness of youth and purity, descending from the locks of Siva, in answer to the fervent prayer of Bhagiratha.

The collective response of the people gathered at a site of pilgrimage invariably gives a distinctive aura to a festival. The annual Natyanjali festival at Chidambaram, in spite of its unpretentious environs has that energy of a special focus. Who amongst those who saw late Durga Lal perform Kathak as if possessed on the morning after the festival presentation, facing the deity, can forget the uniqueness of that experience? The dancer always said that he felt as if something else in him, rather than he himself, was dancing. Alas, he lived for too short a time after this experience to repeat it.

In the same category of energy emanating from the vibes of a people is the Darga Festival at Ajmer during the Urs. Held at Saint Salim Chishti's tomb, the Qawwali sung here has a quality it can never generate on the proscenium.

In memorium festivals, dedicated to the memory of a person, can also, if managed by imaginative organisers, become very special in nature. Organised for the third year in succession, the Jivan Pani Memorial Festival mounted by the Centre for Indian Classical Dances, under Sonal Mansingh, has kept the aura of the person to whom the event is dedicated very palpable.

Held inside the auditorium were once-only festivals organised by the Gandharva Maha Vidyalaya, which had their own flavour, and left indelible impressions on the minds of the public. The first held years ago, was the Amaru Festival, in which dancers of all classical disciplines, performed their own interpretations of prescribed poetic verses from Amarushatakam. This link made the festival out of the common place. And the other event, held recently was the Marg Festival where a prescribed format for presentation became a true test of the dancer's proficiency, depth and creative imagination. With three tiers of great gurus, senior dancers and upcoming youngsters pertaining to all the styles of dance performing, the festival had an all India perspective.

Festivals may be celebratory events. But like all other activites they have to rise above mindless carnivalising. Like a flower adorned with its own fragrance are festivals that have a theme or ambience which becomes the rallying point round which the presentation revolves. This makes the celebration more than a faceless happening.

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