<p>Was Buddha right to make his wife a victim in his search for enlightenment? ‘Yashodhara’ seeks answers.<br /><br /></p>.<p>The pain of longing and yearning defies description. Yasdhodhara, wife of Prince Siddhartha, who left home and hearth in search of enlightenment, embodies this pain. <br /><br />While the world revers Buddha, few spare a thought for Yashodhara who raised her son single-handedly and sought answers within the palace walls. A recluse, she now becomes the protagonist of playwright, scholar and artiste Gowri Ramnarayan’s dance drama ‘Yashodhara’. <br /><br />Narrated by Gowri herself as sutradhar, portrayed by Mythili Prakash through dance, set to verse by poet Maithili Sharan Gupt and rendered by Carnatic vocalist Nisha Rajagopalan, the multi-genre performance is thought provoking. <br /><br />Inspired by a beautiful carving on one of the pillars at the entrance of the Sanchi shrine, Gowri says her thoughts travelled to the era when Yashodhara was won in a swayamvar by prince Siddhartha. <br /><br />“Like any tender girl in her youth, Yashodhara must have dreamt of a joyous life with her husband. But her happiness would have turned to grief when, one night, Siddhartha left her and their infant son, Rahul, in search of nirvana,” narrates Gowri. <br /><br />Yashodhara, as an artist, paints a portrait of her husband as she pines for him and tries to understand why he stole away in the middle of the night, without confiding in her.<br /><br /> This pathos was represented in a soulful abhinaya by Mythili, whose gestures defined Yashodhara’s grief. What added a special dimension to the performance was the choreography. Though Sharan Gupt’s verses were not meant to be sung, Gowri has taken up the challenge with verve.<br /><br />Through her narrative, Gowri not only spearheads the performance but also keeps the audience glued to their chairs. It is her art of superb storytelling that raises the pertinent question: Was Buddha right to make his wife a victim in his search for <br />enlightenment?<br /><br />Consumed by grief, Yashodhara must still smile for the sake of her son, Rahul. To paint a picture of his father, she narrates stories of compassionate Siddhartha to Rahul. She waits for her husband in the hope that once he attains his goal, he will return.<br /><br />The final act is a revelation. Yashodhara discovers that in the process of painting her husband Siddhartha, she has painted Gautama Buddha! <br /><br />When Yashodhara realises that her husband will not return, she burns in misery — circled by eight earthen lamps. But her misery vanishes when Buddha returns to Kapilavastu and seeks forgiveness. Yashodhara leads Rahul to his father in the form of a young monk and she herself renounces all worldly ties.<br /><br /> However, the question whether Siddhartha was fair in overlooking his filial responsibilities, lingers in the mind of the audience long after the curtains come <br />down. And in that is the play’s triumph.<br /></p>
<p>Was Buddha right to make his wife a victim in his search for enlightenment? ‘Yashodhara’ seeks answers.<br /><br /></p>.<p>The pain of longing and yearning defies description. Yasdhodhara, wife of Prince Siddhartha, who left home and hearth in search of enlightenment, embodies this pain. <br /><br />While the world revers Buddha, few spare a thought for Yashodhara who raised her son single-handedly and sought answers within the palace walls. A recluse, she now becomes the protagonist of playwright, scholar and artiste Gowri Ramnarayan’s dance drama ‘Yashodhara’. <br /><br />Narrated by Gowri herself as sutradhar, portrayed by Mythili Prakash through dance, set to verse by poet Maithili Sharan Gupt and rendered by Carnatic vocalist Nisha Rajagopalan, the multi-genre performance is thought provoking. <br /><br />Inspired by a beautiful carving on one of the pillars at the entrance of the Sanchi shrine, Gowri says her thoughts travelled to the era when Yashodhara was won in a swayamvar by prince Siddhartha. <br /><br />“Like any tender girl in her youth, Yashodhara must have dreamt of a joyous life with her husband. But her happiness would have turned to grief when, one night, Siddhartha left her and their infant son, Rahul, in search of nirvana,” narrates Gowri. <br /><br />Yashodhara, as an artist, paints a portrait of her husband as she pines for him and tries to understand why he stole away in the middle of the night, without confiding in her.<br /><br /> This pathos was represented in a soulful abhinaya by Mythili, whose gestures defined Yashodhara’s grief. What added a special dimension to the performance was the choreography. Though Sharan Gupt’s verses were not meant to be sung, Gowri has taken up the challenge with verve.<br /><br />Through her narrative, Gowri not only spearheads the performance but also keeps the audience glued to their chairs. It is her art of superb storytelling that raises the pertinent question: Was Buddha right to make his wife a victim in his search for <br />enlightenment?<br /><br />Consumed by grief, Yashodhara must still smile for the sake of her son, Rahul. To paint a picture of his father, she narrates stories of compassionate Siddhartha to Rahul. She waits for her husband in the hope that once he attains his goal, he will return.<br /><br />The final act is a revelation. Yashodhara discovers that in the process of painting her husband Siddhartha, she has painted Gautama Buddha! <br /><br />When Yashodhara realises that her husband will not return, she burns in misery — circled by eight earthen lamps. But her misery vanishes when Buddha returns to Kapilavastu and seeks forgiveness. Yashodhara leads Rahul to his father in the form of a young monk and she herself renounces all worldly ties.<br /><br /> However, the question whether Siddhartha was fair in overlooking his filial responsibilities, lingers in the mind of the audience long after the curtains come <br />down. And in that is the play’s triumph.<br /></p>
