Older than USA, Narasimha Play going Strong

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Older than USA, Narasimha Play going Strong

Older than US, still going strong

>From the Deccan Herald » Fine Art / Culture »

Usha Kris discovers the Narasimha Jayanthi, which has been celebrated

every year for the past 364 years at Tanjavur.

 

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It is mind boggling to think of the sheer number of years that this

small hamlet of Saliamangalam has been celebrating the Bhagvatha mela

by enacting with dance and dialogue, the story of Vishnu's Narasimha

Avataram.

 

This is the three hundred and sixty fourth year that the residents of

a street called Agraharam have rallied forth to continue the

tradition. And to think that the British Empire which imagined a

permanent rule in our country lasted 350 years. The Muslim dynasty

lasted for a similar period. America, the New World, is all of 300

years old. Yet this small group of people has managed to enact the

Narasimha Avataram composed in Telugu for as long, if not a longer

time span.

 

Typically a child living there gets to be the young Prahalada, one of

the teenagers the older Prahalada. Hiranya Kashipu, a tall strapping

gentleman has been playing his role for the last twenty years and

this year when he had hurt his hand in a recent accident, Leelavathi

his wife, enacted by Subramanyam, deftly wove the concern into the

dialogue, much to the delight of the audience. Lord Narasimha was

played by Srinivasan, who was the Leelavathi of yesteryear and now

has graduated into a more appropriate role for his grand old age of

seventy eight.

 

 

As you might have guessed, the Prahalada Charitram, is an all male

show, which the residents of nearby villages would come to watch. It

is only now that people from metros are turning up and it is getting

popular with the outside world.

 

Rukmini Ananth called me one hot May afternoon and we had the

privilege of witnessing this grand event proudly presented by the

residents. Welcomed into the home of the only Telugu family left in

Saliyamangalam, we rested with the other out-of-town family in the

mittam on the traditional paai or grass mat.

 

Coffee in the morning with fresh milk, a thing unknown in the urban

land of pasteurised, adulterated, `packet' milk– a new tiled bath

with a hot and cold shower, what more could we want? A `samayal set'

or the cooks from Tanjavur, brought forth hot idli, pongal for

breakfast, a good tiffin and a sumptuous lunch and dinner. All we had

to do was blend in and enjoy ourselves.

 

All day long the cars came in bringing families from all parts of the

world. A group from the US arrived, bag and baggage, some from nearby

Trichy and Tanjavur, others from the metros where they work and live.

The excitement built up. Behind the screen the masks of Narasimha and

Ganapathy were being painted with religious devotion. We had hoped to

catch a glimpse and a photograph but that was not to be.

 

At six in the evening, Srinavasa Perumal, the utsava murthy of the

Perumal temple, decorated with garlands and jewellry, proceeded down

the street in a slow tempo to the music of the nadaswaram and the

rhythm of the tavil. The same people doubled as hosts, carriers of

the palanquin bearing Srinivasa Perumal, as well as the actors and

musicians for the all night performance. The Prahalada Charitram was

written by Bharatam Panchanada Bhagvatar who composed seven tableaus

in the mellifluous Telugu language. It was set to music by Sethuram

Iyer.

 

With Srinavasa Perumal and his consorts on their shoulders, the

clarinet playing Natakurunji, the group of bhaktas following, the

grand procession moved slowly on, pausing at intervals outside homes

along the way. The path being dressed with thorans and kolams in a

welcome note, the happy group prayed with love and reverence. It was

around ten thirty at night that the play began with the introduction

of the main characters.

 

The story unfolded with young Rakshit playing Prahalada, who was a

devout Vishnu bhakta, Hiranyakashipu played by Shankara Narayanan,

trying to groom Prahalada to think he is supreme and poor Leelavathi,

played by Subramanyam, caught in the middle.

 

As the young boy becomes older, Hiranyakashipu tries to have him

killed, but in vain. Subramaniam as Leelavathi learning of

Hiranyakashipu's attempts to kill Prahalada; emoted well, with

expressions of distress and sorrow at the turn of events. He learned

dance under the wing of Dhananjayan and the dance comes through

rather well.

 

It is now around two in the morning and the scene closes for a while.

The stage is set for Narasimha to emerge dramatically from the

pillar.

 

The path is cleared and an hour later the father and son begin their

argument. Hiranyakashipu, befittingly strides and stomps carrying his

rather large figure up and down, dwarfing his slim young son

Prahalada.

 

Two masks have been painted with devout dedication. The one of

Ganapathy is donned by a young boy as the play starts. The other, a

larger wooden mask for Narasimha is worn by Srinivasan who becomes

Vishnu incarnate for the audience. Before the masks, made from the

wood of a fig tree, are ready, a small ceremony transfers the energy

into a pot of water with the chant of Vedic rites. The energy is

again transferred making the mask religiously significant. With bated

breath, the hall full of people waits for the religious proceedings

to be completed before they are given a darshan for a brief minute.

 

The wearer of the mask, who is always the oldest member, represents

Vishnu. The defiant Hiranyakashipu challenges the power of Vishnu,

confident that no one could protect Prahalada from him, when amidst

fireworks, the pillar opens up revealing a magnificent spectacle of

Lord Narasimha. A cry of wonderment went up in the air.

 

The indisputable power of the Almighty was felt by all, as

Hiranyakashipu was torn apart, metaphorically speaking. Rejoicing at

the victory of good over evil, Lord Narasimha, with his consorts on

either side, makes a triumphant parade to the now soft and subdued

music of the nadaswaram. As the group is led into the hall in the

agraharam and seated, the mask is removed slowly. A short glimpse, a

darshan to one and all and it is taken away to its place in the

sanctum, wrapped in a red cloth, till next year. By now it is 4:30

am. That time of day when it is not night or day. Hiranyakashipu is

killed by a half-man half-beast as in Nara Simha. He is neither in

the house nor outside. These were all the boons granted, giving him

the false sense of invincibility. The end is dramatic. By the time

the mask is removed, it is daybreak. About 200 people have been

watching the Bhagvata Mela all night.

 

Behind the scenes

 

The women who were not in the limelight by acting or singing, were

behind the scenes. Though their support was not visible, I doubt that

the show could have gone on without them. The young Prahalada got his

cues from his mother standing to one side. Leelavathi the mother in

the charitram and the father in real life bonded beautifully to give

the story its authenticity.

 

The event was like a family show– in this case the family being all

the members of the Agraharam. The tough Hiranyakashipu was a gentle

giant. Narasimha, or Srinivasan, captivated us with his smile that

lit up his eyes as he spoke to us. God willing, next year the same

group will play, until the boy grows too big and the others too old

to do so, and other youngsters will take their place.

 

In 1977, Mohan Kokkar, secretary of the Sangeet Natak Academy gave

the whole show a lift and put it on the map. The funds earmarked by

the ancestors had dried up and the Agraharam was struggling to keep

the events going. It was his stunned appreciation and the initial

grand sum of Rs 3,000 that began the restoration of the dance drams

to their old grandeur.

 

The author may be contacted at ukrishnaswamy

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