The Punyah Theatre presents Double Bill, a bharatanatyam performance featuring two incredible artists — K Sarveshan and Vivek Raman. This edition showcases a unique double bill that celebrates how far bharatanatyam has travelled from its solo roots. “We created Double Bill because bharatanatyam has moved beyond the limitations of a solo form. Though rooted in solo tradition, it has taken a very different shape today. Still, it has a lot of possibilities. That is what we are trying to show with this — where there is a group production happening and also a solo performance. The most traditional margam is being presented by Vivek, who is coming from the US and K Sarveshan, who is from South Africa, will be presenting his group production here,” Parshwanath Upadhye, the organiser and founder of The Punyah Theatre, tells us.
Margam by Vivek Raman and Kailasakr̥ṣṇa by K. Sarveshan together bring out the contrasts and similarities of the art form. “They are completely contrasting in nature because one is a complete dance production based on a theme, a story and a particular emotion. While Margam is divided into different compositions performed by a solo dancer, where different emotions are explored and different deities are praised. There is variety in that — this is how bharatanatyam is traditionally presented. Instead of looking at it as a contrast, I want my students and people here to look at bharatanatyam as an art form with many possibilities. That is why we thought that instead of having two performances of a similar genre, having a solo and a group piece would work better,” Parshwanath explains. Ahead of the performance, we spoke to K Sarveshan to discuss the inspiration behind his piece.
What drew you to this particular story of Kailasakr̥ṣṇa and why do you think telling it is important today?
Kailasa Krishna is an ongoing discovery. I found the story during my time at Kalari Gram, a small Kalaripayattu village just outside Pondicherry. While having a cup of tea on the portico with my Kalari master, he shared this idea of the parallels between the Daśāvatāra of Mahavishnu and the Daśamahāvidyā of the Devis. As we were having this conversation, I discovered a text that speaks about Kali manifesting herself as Sri Krishna — as opposed to the usual Bhagavatam, where Mahavishnu takes the form of Krishna. Here, Kali and Krishna were the parallels and I found that fascinating. That led me on a search where I found a beautiful excerpt from the Devi Mahābhāgavata Purāṇa that speaks of Shiva’s desire to be born as a woman and his request to Kali or Parvati to take the form of a man so that he can experience the wonders of womanhood with her. What fascinated me was that we are usually told that the Daśāvatāra are of Mahavishnu and that’s the story. But here was a different perspective — one that reminds us that different traditions and communities teach slightly different things. We can choose to think differently about the same subject and there is value in having diverse perspectives. In a time where algorithms tailor information to a single viewpoint and feed us narrow narratives, it is fascinating that our ancient texts offer complex, interwoven narrative streams that merge, converge and separate — yet all offer us feeling, insight and ways to move forward.
Are there any specific props or motifs you have used in the production?
There are no props. Though an interesting element of the production is that no single dancer is assigned to one character. The artistes take on multiple roles and sometimes shift between them. So if there is a Shiva and Parvati, there isn’t one single Shiva — all of the dancers play Shiva and all of them play Devi. I wanted to create the sense that Shiva and Shakti exist in everyone, expressing themselves when needed. That is how the work has been designed.
When you approach abhinaya-heavy work, what is your internal process? Do you begin from emotion, narrative or rhythm?
Every project I’ve worked on starts from a different place. This particular work began from the lyrics, I believe. Then I choreographed the natyam and later I designed the music with Rithvik Raja. That was really special because we started with a live performance and only then created the soundtrack. The music was actually the last thing to be designed. The dance is always being worked on — we are like sculptors, constantly chipping away at the stone to reveal our characters.
What emotions or thoughts do you hope linger with the audience after watching the performance?
I generally don’t like deciding what the audience should feel after they watch a work. But I do hope that after watching the show, people can be as courageous as Shiva, as gracious as the Devi and as playful as Krishna. That is it. I hope they find those feelings.