From behind the masks

In yet another form of celebratory storytelling, Chau dancers from Jharkhand let their colourful masks and frantic but measured movements convey the message, writes Preeti Verma Lal. 

On an ordinary day, the village squares are forlorn. On a mundane evening, large masks made of river soil and newspapers hang on ­sharp nails and gather grime. On winter nights, Chau dancers go about doing everyday chores. But when April comes, they wear the karia dhoti (coarse dhoti with red border), don a mask, and when the dhol (drum) resonates and the mahuri (a shehnai-like instrument) plays a melancholic tune, they leap in the air, their arms flailing, their legs splayed. 

The characters are usually birds and animals or a ghost (chirkuni). You can see their wrath; you can string together the narrative as other masked characters join on stage. They are enacting another story from the Ramayana, and the village square is abuzz with eager audience. That’s one more Chau performance in a village square in Jharkhand. That’s one more performance to keep the ancient martial dance form alive. A masked dance-drama, the word Chau owes its origins to cho cho cho — the call of a hunter chasing his prey. Others believe it comes from the Sanskrit word chaya, while still others think it originated during the mock fights of Oriya paikas (warriors). Whatever the debate, even aesthetes agree that this ancient dance form borrows its gestures from the flight and gait of birds and animals. 

Exclusive art form

In the beginning, Chau was a simple dance form that was performed by tribals after the gods were propitiated and the rituals performed in the neighbouring temple and the village square. Since these tribals lived in inaccessible jungles, Chau continued to escape the influence of other art forms. 

However, three different styles of Chau emerged from the regions where they were practised — Purulia (West Bengal), Seraikela (Chotanagpur) and Mayurbhanj (Orissa). If one looks at the basic differences, the Chau dancers of Purulia wear highly stylised masks; in Seraikela, the masks are smaller; while in Mayurbhanj, the dancers do not wear masks. Dhol and mahuri, however, remained the two main musical instruments.

Since Chau is a masked dance, there are no facial expressions; every emotion is conveyed through hands and feet. At times, props like swords, shields and bows are used to enhance storytelling, but they are not essential. The dance is performed in open air on a raised platform with musicians occupying one end of it. 

Mythological themes

The themes are often stories from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata; now, it is also used as a medium to convey social messages like safe sex, family planning, girl education etc. One of the most famous themes from the Seraikela repertoire is a short but poetic Banibaddha, which narrates the anguish of a deer whose heart has been pierced with a hunter’s arrow.

When kings and princes started patronising this dance form, a lot changed. Musical instruments like the sitar and sarangi were introduced, and it is often said that when King Aditya Pratap Deo of Seraikela studied the frescoes of Ajanta, he brought elegance to the masks. He is said to have directed master craftsman Prasanna Kumar Mahapatra to add elongated and arched lines for the eyebrows and eyes on the masks that compensate beautifully where facial expressions lack. 

Later, Prince Vijay Pratap Singh Deo added vigorous body movements. This led to the classification of Chau into three categories — primary dance; solo or duet dances depicting birds, animals, night, sea and lives of ordinary people like boatmen, fishermen and hunters; dramatic dance, the last category, mainly inspired by works like Meghadūta by Kalidasa and Bandir Swapna by Rabindranath Tagore.

In Purulia style of Chau, a special flask-shaped arena is prepared during the festival time, and unlike Seraikela Chau, the drummer here sings the introductory passage. The heroic characters do not commence the dance immediately; they run back and forth in the narrow passage first, while the demons indulge in somersaults and spirited whirls. Interestingly, even the ‘good’ characters resort to very forceful gestures. 

The demons have knitted eyebrows, and the masks are heavy and snazzy. Since there are no masks in Mayurbhanj school, some women have taken to Chau, which, for centuries, has remained a male bastion.

Chau masks are made of river soil, newspaper, thin piece of cloth, very little lime and paint. Nearly 20 layers of newspapers are glued on dry mould, finished off with a thin coating of liquid soil and a piece of flimsy cloth to hold them together. The mould is left out in the sun for two days and then painted painstakingly with natural colours to add emotions. The God-masks are heavily ornate, while the animal-masks have no beads or sequins.

It took years before Chau could step beyond the village square and enter the embellished rang mahals of the kings. But with the regal splendour gone, Chau as a dance form soon regressed to the remote village squares. In Jharkhand, the art form is being revived, and Chau Mahotsava brings together artistes and connoisseurs under one roof to keep this dance-drama alive. When spring turns into summer, the village squares metamorphose into a stage, and Chau becomes the biggest crowd-puller. Here, the tribals know no other definition of celebration but Chau.