Prathibimba: Fine tribute to Bendre through dance

Jnanpith awardee Da Ra Bendre defies categorisation as a writer, as a person. Life’s vicissitudes made him stoic but didn’t take away from his sensitivity. He was at once a traditionalist and a modernist, a trailblazer of modern poetry in Kannada despite folk traditions remaining central to his lexicon; a tragic life which rose in ebullience to integrate spirituality with classical, sunshine-filled poetry, rooted in a visionary, global outlook.

Labelled a varakavi, Bendre’s many-splendoured personality and richness of literature can at best be attempted to be captured in words and certainly not in classical dance, the abstracts being too many.

Viewed especially against this backdrop, Prathibimba, a tribute to Bendre that was showcased recently at Bengaluru Hubba, was a deeply emotive, communicative dance feature, high on production values.

The pitfall of many a multimedia dance presentation is that visuals and dialogues overpower the essential content of dance, reducing it to a mish-mash of ideas that could still be at the embryonic stage. One is compelled to make this comparison in order to appreciate Prathibimba, lovingly and respectfully conceived by dancers Janani Murali and Pratibha Ramaswamy, known for their yen for experimentation.

Yet, Prathibimba remains far from being just an experiment, the dance reflecting the life of Bendre, the tragic events and grief that unfolded, the philosophical depth of his poetry, its lyricality, and his journey through life from youth to evolving into a spiritual seeker.

The specifics of the production were vast, amazing one with the minute details the dancers had gone into, accounting for its depth and authenticity. The lyrics, discerningly selected from Bendre’s poems, and some from Tagore, helped sketch a complete picture of his personality, major life incidents, and his earthy philosophy.

For instance, Baare baare ba, was all about Shakti, her manifestations and power; Bangaara kadala—individual planes of consciousness are different, Jo jo Balakrishna, on maternal love, the indulgence of a grandmother. Here, one has to mention the backdrop of a starry night—ethereal, apt.

The portrayal of Bendre’s loss of six of his nine children was heart-rending, sans drama. Each child, represented by a lotus, wilted as buds, much before fully blooming. Baby steps, denoting the tender age of his children, simultaneously brought out emotions of parental love and grief at the loss of a child. The name of each of Bendre’s children were vividly described with a message, portraying the short-lived joy of their nipped life.

Minimal dialogues, in Kannada and English, interspersed the dance, adding to the poignancy.  Bendre’s words, Rama nanna kavya parampareya chiguru (Rama is the tender shoot of my poetic tradition), grieving the death of his child Rama, a grief-filled line, echoed with deep pathos.  

Paatharagitti pakka nodidhene akka, an exuberant rustic imagery of village life and kinships, had a peppy appeal musically, visually a mosaic of colours, with a huge butterfly backdrop that literally brightened up the entire auditorium, with the dancers apparently splashing vibrant hues on the white line drawing. Nandana Thota, Indira’s celestial garden, left little to imagination—it was literally there on stage! –a prathibimba of the beautiful progression of one’s consciousness.   

The mosaic of thought processes woven into Prathibimba reflected not just the judicious use of dance, music, abstract backdrops, poetry, imagery, and dialogues to paint a wholesome picture of Bendre, but held up Janani and Prathibha as trailblazers in happily marrying the traditional with the modern. The potential of these two dancers lies as much in their inventive thinking as in their artistry.

Lines from freedom fighters such as Tagore and Aurobindo too came alive, posing the thoughtful question on patriotism:  does this identity of a nation unite us, bind us? Or divide us? Tagore’s poetry on a boat was reflective: much like the toppling of a boat, the body too goes one day. What remains is just consciousness.

In later years, Bendre found immortality in the world of numbers, which became his philosophy of life. The ingenuity of the dancers came to fore in tracing the Fibonacci sequence, floating, flitting numbers on the stark backdrop, crisp nritta denoting calculations, and intoning the Fibonacci sequence to everything in creation. The numbers flitting on the backdrop was a bubbly dance of calculations. The nritta denoted computation, 881, 441, denoting hridaya and Viveka respectively; Fibonacci sequences, as floating numbers, vividly, meaningfully etched its existence in creation. The magic squares, demonstrated through nritta, detailed how everything is ruled by Fibonacci!

The catch phrase of Prathibimba certainly was Bendhavarella Bendre aagalaararu (not all can become Bendre), etching his simplicity, strong cultural moorings, his scientific temper which yet reflected a mysticism in his writings, and above all, his humanity.  

Janani was both the dance and the dancer, so completely immersive was she on stage. Prathibha was an understated match to her, their alchemy integral to the production.

The supposedly abstract backdrops were telling in effect, enhancing the story unfolding before the audience.

Prathibimba was team work at its best. Raghuram Rajagopalan (music composition and vocal), D.V. Prasanna Kumar (nattuvangam, rhythm composition and rhythm pad), Sangeet Thomas (keyboard), Raghunandan Ramakrishna (flute), Jagadeesh Kurthkoti (percussion), Rohit Bhasi (art), and Keerthi Kumar (animation and light design).

As Ambika Tanaya Dutta—his poetic self, Bendre lives on. “Come ye, let’s dance”, was the euphoric optimism of Prathibimba.

by

Jyothi Raghuram