The Ninasam Diary:

The Ramayana resonates with political intonations

by Dr. Ajay Joshi

Part 2

I must humbly admit that I am not a connoisseur of mythology, but attending the annual culture course at Ninasam, definitely heightened my appreciation for those written epics, especially the Ramayana. Not that the briefings and debates, a part of the course, by scholars and researchers, laid it out crystal clear, as it in itself is so layered and coloured, but it surely made me less ignorant. To compound this dilemma, was the fact that I had grown up listening to Valmiki’s version of the Ramayana, and hence was sure that this was ‘what it was all about’.

But here, being subject to the many interpretations that this story can afford, including the Sri Lankan version I was tutored about, on a recent visit to the emerald island, I felt enriched. But on the flip side, I was caught in the web of impasse, as to how and where to place my arguments and understanding of the text, especially in reference to which of the representations. Though I was coyly told to go ahead and locate’ myself in any which convinced me’, I carried a weighted uncertainty, as I strolled into the auditorium to watch the evening performances.

Culture course

For those who came late to follow this series of articles, I was invited to attend the culture course organised by the theatre movement, Ninasam, in the State of Karnataka, considered as the melting pot of Indian culture and theatre. The theme of this year’s culture course was ‘Living with Tradition’. What better way to start the occasion and the subsequent debates than to present as the first play, Sita Swayamwara (The wedding of Sita), a story taken from one of the epics of Hindu mythology, the Ramayana. At the onset for those not well versed with this epic, it is an exhaustive compilation of the story of Lord Rama, and has been interpreted in hundreds of different expressions.

Conflicts

Keeping aside the arising conflicts and confrontations that revolve around the interpretations of this great text, the story which finds its way into this play is the announced wedding of the beautiful Sita, daughter of King Janaka. But this is not an ordinary wedding, but one where the many aspiring princes have to prove their mettle and strength by snapping the powerful bow. One who does this will be the suitor and have the hand of Sita in marriage.

Lord Rama along with his brother Lakshmana, accompanied by their guru the great sage Vishwamitra, embark on a journey through the forests to the Kingdom of King Janaka. However, Ravana, who desires Sita, does everything in his capacity to mislead Rama and Sita, as he is sure that Rama will finally win the hand of Sita. He disguises as Rama and tries to woo Sita, while sending his devoted disciples to disguise as Sita and distract Rama. The rest is history.

This piece has been written by Kannada playwright M.S. Shrikantha Gawda in 1901, an important writer in the era of the beginning of the modern Kannada literature. Inspite of being a lawyer by profession, he has been instrumental in starting literary magazines, written novels, short stories, poems and autobiographies, apart from having translated Shakespeare’s Macbeth and ‘The Midsummer’s Night Dream. This initial influence of the works of the Bard is very evident from all the tricks of disguises and mistaken identity that he has used in the play. This two and a half hour engagement, which is a bit stretched for one's concentration, attempts to tell the story in a direct narrative. However, the director has cloaked it as a spoof, where Ravana and his devoted aides, are portrayed in a comic role, the demon prince himself craving for attention of the beautiful princes.

They jump and hop and stumble and fume and fret, being more obstructive in their plans than seeing it materialise. However, lilting music, striking costumes, innovative set design but a disturbing rainbow of the brightened cyclorama, keeps the flow going. Incidentally, I was the witness to a similar production, where the piece was well edited, performed in a more intimate space than the proscenium, was more creative, keeping the comic element intact and not inkling to a slap-stick, as this enactment leaned towards. The highlight though was the music score and powerful renditions, synchronised and poetic movements and the well trained actors who were worth watching. The production per se had its loopholes, which were too gaping for comfort, but then it was a story well told. Gandhi Viruddha (versus) Gandhi, is a peep into the life of Mahatma Gandhi, the Father of the nation.

This play has taken an interesting journey, as the original story is written in Gujarathi as a novel ,which was adapted for theatre by Marathi playwright Ajit Dalvi and eventually finding its place on the Kannada stage, by translator D.S. Chougule. But this crossing, traversing so many cultural idioms, particularly the powerful element of language, has not diluted the effectiveness of the Kannada version, which is credited to the effectual pen of Chougule.

Ajit Dalvi, born in a middle class family, residing in the rural parts of Maharashtra, where politics and caste issues, are a stable diet of casual conversations, is a prominent name associated with the experimental theatre of Maharashtra. So it was but expected that a powerful statement in the form of this play, be written by him.

This play doesn’t explore the political ideologies of Gandhi, instead looks at his life and association in the non-political arena. Focussing on the turbulent relationship with his son, Harilal, it traces the voyage of this young man, who strives not to live in the shadows of his illustrious father. But destiny thinks otherwise, as he struggles to prove himself, first to his father, then in a traumatic marriage, in his unstable political attitude, his frantic conversion to Islam and finally his nemesis in a pitiable death.

And all along Gandhi is a mute spectator, torn between his preaching’s of humanity and brotherhood and a anxious witness to the debacle of his son. This play is a powerful commentary on the politics of India, jacketing an equally pulsating rhythm of the personal lives of the high-ended. The play itself merits in its layout and the production is just an extension. The power-politics and the pathos of Harilal have been brilliantly portrayed. In hindsight the tussle is not between the two Gandhi’s, as in father and son, but a struggle between Gandhi, the person, and his inner self, his conscious.

With such an interspacing of plays where one of mythology trails before a political presentation, I could not refrain from connecting the two, and then experiencing the Ramayana, yet again, in a different hue, with its strong political intonations and ramifications.