Reclaiming power & place

Theatre group Adishakti is slowly shaping an avant-garde language of expression on stage by reflecting the nomenclature of adroitly conceived, often female-driven plots, vividly bringing together dance, movement, and emotional craft. Their upcoming play analyses the status of women as silent victims in patriarchal societal structures, writes Shilpi Madan

When you watch a play by Adishakti, you aren’t a mere observer. You are a participant in a visual symphony, invited to explore the sensorial depths of the artistic charisma that unfolds before your eyes. Not surprising, as the theatre group calls itself the Laboratory for Theatre Art Research.

Based on the nature-cupped, three-and-a-half acres on the outskirts of Auroville, Puducherry, Adishakti was founded in 1981 by the late theatre-doyen, Veenapani Chawla. “Ours is an effort to find a language to travel through time,” says Nimmy Raphel, Managing Trustee, Adishakti. “To create a language for ourselves, a narrative that challenges pre-established lines of thought,” adds Veenapani.

The group is busy rehearsing for the upcoming performance of Urmila that will move from Prithvi Theatre in Mumbai in January, to other cities across India. Lithe movement (evocative of hours of Kalaripayattu), searing dialogue delivery (perfected breath work at play), sparse props (a la therukoothu) and eloquent silent moments (played up by the sudden absence of music) mark the signature elements of this production too.

Urmila is a play based on the lesser-known wife of Lakshman, in Ramayana. When Lakshman followed Ram and Sita into the forest to spend 14 years in exile serving his brother and sister-in-law, he left his wife Urmila behind at the palace in Ayodhya. When Nidra Devi, the goddess of sleep approaches Lakshman as he stands vigil through the night, he requests her to give his share of rest to Urmila. Does she accept the uninvited thrust of 14 years of sleep from the goddess? What thoughts transpire through her mind? How does she articulate her right to refuse, given no precedent to her uncommon situation? Solid and lucid, the play, (like others in the Adishakti repertoire — Bhoomi, Bali, Brhannala…) peels away the layers of the human psyche, compelling us to dwell on the depths of our emotions. Mythological metaphors dipped in themes that stand relevant even today, exploring the point of view of women, as they call upon their inner strength, question their identity and challenge norms through the knit of contemporary life.

In the play Bali, King Bali’s wife Tara, is taken by her brother-in-law, Sugriva. The script locks in many questions, including can another man’s wife be taken as one’s own, as part of victory? Brhannala maps the mind of the exiled Pandav, Arjun, as he spends a year in the guise of a woman. A stark metaphor that marks the melting of all preconceived binary viewpoints.  

With women characters rooted in mythology, and forming the pivot, the narratives are a sharp reflection of society today and their continuing challenges. Clearly, Adishakti is shaping to make us unlearn and relearn, in the expansive dynamics of ideas, thoughts, interpretations and prismatic peeps into mythology, elbowing in a much-needed, timely, thematic dialogue between the traditional and contemporary.

“The scripts make you engage with yourself. Urmila examines the notions of consent in our marriages,” explains Nimmy. “Violence in a relationship can be emotional too. Does Urmila ignore the call of action and duty, feeling compelled to take to inertia, and put her dreams to sleep? Adishakti believes in spawning discussions through strong women characters,” she says, lending us insight into building a persuasive compelling narrative.

The production reflects the nomenclature of adroitly conceived, often female-driven plots, vividly bringing together dance, movement, and emotional craft. Bhoomi brings forth the mental dilemma of a woman director who runs an amateur theatre company. The play makes her question her value system, and analyse the status of women — as silent victims in patriarchal societal structures. It is a seamless interplay of layers between the knitted plots: The protagonist Araja (Nimmy), daughter of Sage Shukracharya living in the Dandakaranya forest, is violated by King Dhandaka (Vinay). How the parallel emerges in the contemporary plays out on stage is a fascinating display of dexterity by actor-director Vinay Kumar with poetic renditions by the protagonist.

Call it a work in progress... “Art is complex. It might need multiple viewings to grasp, while it stretches our imagination. Hence theatre needs to be entertaining, and relaxing yet complete in its complexity and relevant content. The idea is to keep challenging ourselves, finding and taking risks, allowing ourselves to fall and fail with grace, and get up again,” adds Nimmy. The layered contained energies in each work emerge as aesthetically conceived perspectives.

“The tricky part is to push and pull,” she confesses. “Neither are we elitist, nor academic researchers. We believe the takeaway is different for different people — it could be a musical note for you, a look for me, an expression for her, or momentary lighting for another… we simply wish to reach out to the highest recesses of the mind and explore emotional spaces,” adds Nimmy.