Maalyada, presented by HCL Concerts and Narada Gana Sabha on 16 January 2026 at Narada Gana Sabha, was a Bharatanatyam production by Rama Vaidyanathan with her students, inspired by the book,  Maalyada: Andal’s sacred garland by Jeysundhar D. With music composed by Sudha Raghuraman, the work explored navavidha bhakti (the nine forms of devotion) through select pasurams of Andal’s Tiruppavai, reimagining both text and musical landscape while remaining anchored in Vaishnava philosophy.

Jeysundhar’s book offers a thoughtful unpacking of Tiruppavai through imagined, informal conversations between Andal (Kodhai) and her companions, revealing the philosophical depth embedded in what often appears deceptively simple. Drawing from ancient scriptures, the author presents Andal not merely as a poet-saint but as a seeker articulating the core principles of Vaishnava dharma. Andal’s 30 pasurams, traditionally sung during the month of Margazhi, are at once a collective call to devotion and a deeply personal yearning — not for ritual fulfilment, but for eternal service to the Lord.

The performance opened with the Thaniyans. Sri Vaishnava acharyas, both before and after Ramanuja, have composed these three short slokas, traditionally chanted as a prelude to the Tiruppavai. Describing Andal and the town of Srivilliputhur, they were portrayed by Rama and set to tune in Nata and Valaji by Sudha Raghuraman, forming an evocative opening.

As the voice of the book, Rama Vaidyanathan takes us through Andal’s journey using the framework of the nine forms of devotion — Shravanam, Smaranam, Kirtanam, Paada-sevanam, Archanam, Vandanam, Daasyam, Sakhyam, and Atma-nivedanam. The dance, inspired directly by the book, presents these bhaktis as a conversation between Kodhai and her companions as they prepare for and perform the paavai nombu. Sayani Chakraborty, who essayed the role of Andal, fitted the part with quiet conviction.

While Andal’s pasurams have been set to music innumerable times — most familiarly by Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar — hearing these verses recast in new ragas and talas took a little getting used to. As the presentation progressed, the experience opened out. Sudha Raghuraman’s compositions, sung with conviction, manodharma and bhava, gradually drew the listener in. Subtle Hindustani touches, including jhala-like phrases, and the meends, added texture and worked particularly well in accentuating movement on stage. Swaraksharams were used thoughtfully and blended well with the lyrical flow of the pasurams

A recurring refrain from the Bhagavatam — Shravanam, kirtanam, smaranam, paada-sevanam, archanam, vandanam, daasyam, sakhyam, atma-nivedanam — returned after each bhakti, anchoring the work philosophically. The theermanam culminating in Maalyada, a reference to Krishna, was haunting and left a lingering presence.

The performance opened with the well-known episode from Andal’s life where she wears the garland meant for the Lord and looks into the mirror. Having shed ego and possessiveness, Andal does not see herself but Krishna reflected back. The mirror sequence was choreographed with a keen sense of spatial symmetry, convincingly creating the effect of a reflection. The portrayal of the paavai nombu, the description of Andal through Soodi kodutha sudar kodiye (raga Valaji), and the transition into a jatiswaram were handled with finesse.

The conceptual layering of the bhaktis was especially engaging, and the dance moved through these phases with quiet assurance. The first three — shravanam, smaranam, and kirtanam — unfolded as forms of devotion that can be practised anywhere. The next three — vandanam, archanam, and paada-sevanam — drew attention to the need for a physical or visual presence of the divine. The final three — sakhyam, daasyam, and atma-nivedanam — led the audience into a more intimate space of devotion. That this structure was already embedded by Andal within the Tiruppavai gave the work a sense of natural continuity rather than conscious design.

The musical journey across ragas and talas was carefully structured, moving through Amritavarshini, Charukesi, Mohanam, Behag, Brindavana Saranga, Neelambari, Pantuvarali, Hindolam and Hamir Kalyani, each evoking the appropriate bhakti and mood. Notably, Daasya bhava — Andal’s own preferred form of devotion — was brought out with restraint and depth. The Dasavatara, woven into the namavali during the Paada-sevanam segment, was an intelligent choreographic choice.

Rama Vaidyanathan and her dancers — Reshika Sivakumar, Sayani Chakraborty, Shubhamani Chandrasekhar, and Vaishnavi Dhore — moved as a cohesive unit, maintaining uniformity of line and a shared sense of bhava. There was no attempt to spotlight any one dancer; the ensemble operated as a unified whole, marked by excellent group dynamics.

The musicians were integral to this cohesion: Sudha Raghuraman (vocal), G. Raghuraman (flute), Himanshu Srivastava (nattuvangam), and mridangists Sumod Sreedharan and Sannidhi Vaidyanathan. The rapport between the dancers and the musicians was evident in the shared sense of timing — in the silences, the subtle pauses, and the momentum created when needed, particularly through the percussion.

Lighting by Surya Rao was subtle and functional, enhancing transitions without drawing attention to itself. Costumes, kept within a restrained colour palette, did not distract from the dance or music.

A quiet but significant influence on the production was the visual world of artist Keshav, whose paintings in the book bring several episodes vividly to life — notably the Vamana–Mahabali story and Krishna as Maaya. These visuals seemed to hover in the background of the choreography, and merit a discussion of their own.

Maalyada sustained interest through its 80-minute span without feeling stretched. The production balanced conceptual depth with clarity in presentation, trusting its material and allowing the ideas to unfold without relying on overt dramatic effect.

by

Sukanya Sankar

Photos by Santosh Janardhanan