Shanti Sutra: A remarkable yet flawed performance by Kalakshetra Foundation raises many questions

Shanti Sutra, a dance drama presented by the Kalakshetra Foundation to mark the birth anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi, premiered on 1 October at Kalakshetra, Chennai. Conceptualised and directed by Revathi Ramachandran, Director Kalakshetra, with scholarly inputs from VR Devika, it seeks to explore the thread (sutra) linking Gandhiji and Rukmini Devi.

Gandhiji’s ideals of political action were part of a greater whole, which included social and individual uplift and the pursuit of truth and justice. For Rukmini Devi too, dance and music were part of a way of life that included simple, unostentatious beauty and grace in all spheres. The very setting of her school Kalakshetra in lush green, the simple buildings that dot the campus, the elegant designs of cotton and silk sarees and veshtis, bereft of the showy zari which the students wear, the flowers and kolams (rangoli), are all the essence of life at the institution.

On many counts, the presentation was remarkably successful, with sparkling choreography, first-rate dancing and impactful music. The austere Kalakshetra style shimmered amidst lovely costumes, understated jewellery and superb make-up and lighting. Though the script was complex with a series of messages, the entire team delivered a near-flawless, crisp and polished performance.

The theme itself was a winner. Just the idea of the work of the two great savants, their struggles and triumphs during that period of great ferment, endowed the evening with a lovely, nostalgic hue. No doubt that extra artistic element was a strong factor in the success of the production.

It is also challenging. How does one present through dance the novel idea of exploring the thread linking the two? The presentation unfolded along various concepts such as truth, ahimsa, education, kindness to animals and so on. A sideboard carried translations of the songs and notes on the particular idea being presented, which was vital to the experience.

Namakkal Kalaijnar’s song aadu raate (Dance, O Spinning Wheel) formed the refrain with each segment coming back to this evocative motif. Khadi, and the national symbol of resistance to the imperial power that it became, were presented through song, and sequences of pinnal kolattam, when the dancers in threesomes plaited and unplaited fabric suspended from the roof. The formation of the charkha and the banyan tree by the dancers using props was very well done. The power of simple symbols!

Each segment deservedly drew lavish applause from the audience. It was spectacular and, in the characteristic Kalakshetra way, restrained. Choreography by the faculty of Kalakshetra, delivered impeccably by its students and heightened by music composition by professor Sai Shankar, were very strong aspects of the presentation.

However, the theme itself and its exploration do throw up questions. To depict the ideal of animal rights and kindness to animals with the idea of protecting the cow was somewhat narrow and made one uncomfortable about its possible political resonances. Again, Kabir’s bhajan, in which he extols everyone to worship Rama interpreted as an allusion to the mythical Rama rather than a universal divinity, was something that Kabir himself would not have intended. Other flaws, like the statement in the accompanying sideboard that “ahimsa is a word in the Devanagari script” left one flabbergasted. What on earth does that mean? The pronunciation of Sanskrit slokas also left much to be desired, which is particularly depressing coming from Kalakshetra.

No doubt this production explores a novel, hitherto un-traversed terrain and it piqued the intellect. And it left the audience elated. However, unreasonable though it may be to expect much depth in a dance production such as this, one did feel that it was just a series of segments, albeit very engaging, with no subtle ideas emerging out of it.

How can one link the various ideas that the two had? Both, for example, insisted on the spiritual way. But do they, therefore, compare easily?

It is reported that Gandhiji was keen to see Rukmini Devi’s dance because he “had heard that it was spiritual.” And that indeed is her legacy. Today, many decades after, it is time to reflect on what this might mean. Wasn’t Balasaraswati’s art spiritual? Rasikas were transported by the sheer intensity of her abhinaya and she herself was transformed on stage. Dance is a physical thing; how does one bring spirituality to bear upon its performance? It is a state of intense absorption in the art itself.

The ancient term for this kind of absorption is avadhaana. Its use continues to this day in the word saavadhaan, used in many modern Indian languages, or in the phrase avadhaana pallavi, in which two different talas are performed simultaneously with the two hands while rendering the line of the composition. It requires absorption of a different level.

Spirituality in politics is a different animal altogether. It requires an uncompromising spirit of service, a total absence of greed, clear thinking, great moral courage, and determination.

The murky road to success, however, leaves little scope for spirituality in either field, which is why the truly great artist or politician is rare.

Dr Lakshmi Sreeram is a Carnatic and Hindustani musician and researcher. She writes about art and culture using myth, story, philosophy, and everything in between. Write to her at larasriram14@gmail.com