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From despair to joy

The Ninasam Tirugata plays were interesting for their variety

Photo: Sampath Kumar G.P.

DARK A scene from Ee Naraka…

Ninasam’s Tirugaata has started its rounds with two plays this year; “Ee Naraka Ee Pulaka” and “Lokottame”. If “Ee Naraka…” is a string of seven short plays by P. Lankesh, “Lokottame” is the Kannada adaptation of Aristophanes’ comedy “Lysistrata”, the third and concluding play of the War and Peace series. Lankesh, who was engaged with the genre of the play for almost three decades, examines the existential state of the individual situated as he was in a society that was modernizing.

This – a very Navya preoccupation – forms the basis of most Lankesh’s works, who came from a rural background with traditional roots. Even while Lankesh, in the larger scheme of things spoke of a social reality, he was also speaking of the individual fraught with despair, alienation, suspicion, and a search for the self. It is particularly forceful in Lankesh, who came into the city and found the phoney middle class existence worthy only of contempt. So much so, in opposition to this, one finds in many of Lankesh’s writings a rural romanticism.

The title of this play comes from his longish poem “Nanna Sutta”, which is a mound of wrecked images, fragmented people, oppressive institutions and technological strides that make for significant markers of the city. This, for Lankesh, is simultaneously hell and thrill, literally and metaphorically. So, what you get in this long play (three hours!), designed and directed by Raghunanadana, is despair, gloom, and grave suffering. This trail of seven plays also captures Lankesh’s antagonism, resentment and a gnawing purposelessness of life; it is unwavering, constant, with hardly any routes for rescue.

You can have your ideological differences with the playwright and his near lack of ambivalences, but what takes you through this pall of gloom is the competent, rigorous performance by the team and a set that acquires a life of its own. It in fact, becomes an embodiment of anarchy, a chaotic presence, heightening the sense of disintegration.

In “Teregalu”, what begins like a banter turns into an interrogation, before it assumes frightful, psycho-analytical proportions, with the protagonist wanting to run away from his own self. In “T. Prasannana Grihasthashrama”, Lankesh asks serious questions about the institution of marriage itself. He even broods over the notion of an ideal relationship wondering if it is anything but a mirage. It is to a tragic realisation that Lankesh concludes that relationships are oppressive and brutal. What really troubles, both in the play and in its stage representation is Lankesh’s views on women; one is tempted to see him as a misogynist. This is true even of the poem “Nanna Sutta”, where he equates squalor with woman. But there is some relief in “Nanna Tangigondu Gandu Kodi”, where his strong anti-women perceptions (one can see glimpses of this even in “Giliyu Panjaradolilla”) are refreshingly replaced by the liberal humanist position.

“Kranti Bantu Kranti” is an effective account of the deep, often insurmountable chasms of practicing an ideology in theory as opposed to its ground reality. What could be seen as an interesting twist is how the play raises itself to mythical proportions. The characters bow in imploration to a ray of light, a peacock feather and a flute (also the monogram of Lankesh Patrike itself) for liberation from this suffering. In action, it seems contrived, but does make the plot complex. The play tests one’s levels of endurance by its sheer length. Also, for a production of such sustained intensity, keeping it shorter will perhaps make it more effective. The body language of the actors is quite a strain on the viewer.

“Lokottame” (translated by Vishala and Channakeshava), based on Aristophanes’ “Lysistrata”, was a complete contrast. It is not merely a comment on the plot and treatment, but also the versatility of the actors. A robust, lively production full of song and dance, kept the audience hooked from beginning to end. The pace, sense of timing, change of sets… everything was done to near perfection. Channakeshava, director and choreographer of the play, gives this 5 B.C. play a contemporary touch with a body language and movements that’s here and now.

This hilarious comedy reflects the disgust with war prevalent at Athens. It is complete with sexual innuendo and is also a war of the sexes. The play at the outset is about the struggle for peace through a self-denying ordinance by the women, “we must refrain from the male altogether”, but it is also a comment on the folly of military aggression and a society with deep gender biases.

The play effectively ropes in Gandhian preoccupation of the Charaka, urging the man to abandon his legendary obsession with violence. With Manmatha, the God of love making his appearance on stage, the play, yet again, transcends geographical barriers and time locations.

The music for the play (Hegde M.P. and Aruna Bhatt) is outstanding. It moves effortlessly between styles and uses the Christian choir form to brilliance.

But with all this, one wonders, if in all the fun and laughter, is there a danger of the message getting lost?