India’s classical performing arts do suffer from an obsession with pageant syndrome, but striking visual display is neither new nor entirely extraneous to the culture.
Three days before young Justin Bieber performed before a crowd of 40,000 people at an open Mumbai stadium, a panel of pundits sat together in the country’s capital to discuss a crucial aspect about Indian culture. ‘Novelty in Performing Arts’ was the topic for the three scholars, whose exchange of ideas eventually veered around the trend of onstage “spectacle”.
The razzmatazz around the touring 23-year-old Canadian’s rock concert in the western metropolis this week was no way to become a point of reference at the May 7 meeting of architect Vikram Lall, classical dancer Rama Vaidyanathan and writer Udayan Vajpeyi in Delhi. Neither did the Grammy awardee’s Wednesday evening show have anything to do with what is generally related to as Indian culture.
Therein lies the seriousness of the trio’s observation. In hindsight, turns out to be riddled with an unsaid irony. For, even when it is to classical Indian performing arts that newness is employed, elements of spectacle often become a factor for popular appeal. The panelists at the Delhi huddle agree that it is “in the race to keep up with the fast-changing times” this element has crept into traditions, but opine it betrays a sad slide in classicism.
As poet-film writer Vajpeyi notes at the discussion that Indians tend to copy the West mindlessly in several things when it comes to music, which forms a glorious heritage of this country. “For instance, we dim the lights in a concert hall for a classical music performance,” he points out. What’s wrong? Well, here’s the logic: In India, the artist responds to the audience. For, they improvise according to audience reaction, making it a spontaneous affair. Here’s a Hindustani Drupad recital by acclaimed vocalist Sayeeduddin Dagar at a heritage venue in France:
Rama, as a Bharatanatyam exponent, finds Indian classical dance generally shackled in religious sentiments. She wants to make it secular, by transcending the boundaries of cultures and religion, and use it as a medium to address social issues, the middle-aged guru told the function organised by the Raza Foundation in collaboration with the Civil Services Officers' Institute.
As for architecture, Lall regrets that the modern tendency of making a spectacle our of a show has been working against the serious enrichment of both the arts and the idea of innovation. “A spectacle presumes a stupid audience,” adds the speaker, who designed Delhi’s Akshardham temple and Patna’s Buddha Smriti Park.
A closer look at the three opinions can lead one to note that an extreme stand on the matter, too, can work against the spirit of the arts, including traditional. For instance, architecture itself mostly revels in the idea of splendour. It is not just that several Hindu shrines have for centuries incorporated the spirit of spectacle. Even the national capital’s Akshardham, completed in end-2005, naturally bears the ethos of sculptural opulence of older shrines such as the Brihadeeswara Kovil of Tamil Nadu or the Sun Temple of Konark.
Now, the 13th-century Konark temple in Orissa hosts a famed annual dance festival. If the three-decade-old event showcasing classical genres has been increasingly drawing audiences, the reputation has also much to do with the post-dusk ambience of the programmes: all of it against the backdrop of a lighting that tends to be spectacular. If that five-day fest at the huge chariot-shaped shrine helped some to subsequently discover the inner beauty of Indian classical dances, the Konark festival cannot be written off as simply garish. Sure, initiation is no guarantee to deeper exploration of the aesthetics of any art, but then if it triggers a serious journey there has to be some starting point, which even Konark can be. Ditto can be the case with similar yearly events at the Nataraja temple in Tamil Nadu’s Chidambaram and Delhi’s Old Fort (Purana Qila).
At classical music concerts too, their venues aren’t necessarily dim-lit. In urban halls, that is mostly the scene, but not in places where classical arts have a traditional base and discerning audiences. Carnatic concerts at the temple festivals of Kerala down-country generally have listeners also bathed in light, permitting the artistes to get constant feedback.
That said, there is, obviously, a lot of truth in how a craze of ‘spectacle’ can stunt anyone’s potential pursuit for the essence of an art. Especially, when performing arts themselves accommodate their share of showmanship (across genders). The shine of the silk kurta, the aristocracy attributed to jasmine flower-bunch on the head and the freakishness attached to the loose hair of the percussionist are individual-level versions of spectacle. It’s also almost a norm that attending a classical music or dance concert has all the pleasure and paraphernalia of a family’s outing at a shopping mall or movie house.
In short, spectacle is something very few classical arts in India can disregard—more so in the days to come. There can be very few exceptions: arts that are somewhat incapable of acquiring too much of a show-off culture. The Raas Leela in Manipuri, the classical dance from the northeast of the country, is one such instance where the movements have a natural restrain even as the big-picture visuals might look exotic. This video can be ample evidence to the point.