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How easily we forgot them in these times?

Last Updated 08 August 2020, 08:38 IST

When Rukmini Devi announced that she would choreograph the Valmiki Ramayana into a six-part dance-drama, it left the artistes of Kalakshetra stunned. They had no resources to undertake this colossal project. Not even male dancers to fit the chief roles. Unfazed, she went ahead with her plans and sent her Kathakali dancer, Chandu Pannikar, to fetch two young boys from Kerala whom she would train. Her emissary met an elementary schoolteacher on the train who offered his own son for the role which, he explained, meant one less mouth to feed. This was the rags to riches story of the renowned Bharata Natyam dancer, Padma Vibushan VP Dhananjayan, who went on to establish his own prestigious institutions where hundreds of dancers followed in his footsteps.

Kalakshetra can boast of several such outstanding alumni who came more “to eat three meals a day,” like PT Narendran, who has stormed the theatres of the world today, including the Bejart School of Ballet, with his dance and choreographic skills. He is one more artist who recalls his impoverished childhood when his only meal consisted of “beaten rice soaked in salt water.” The story of the legendary Vempati Chinna Satyam, who walked all the way to Bezwada – penniless and starving -- in search of the great Kuchipudi teacher Tadepalli Perayya Sastry, is another incredible example of impoverished artists who rose to fame through sheer grit and determination. The world of music has had its share of struggling artists, too – some who made good, some who didn’t.

Art, too, needs money, background, connections. The best of musicians have fallen by the wayside for lack of these. Others, well connected and well heeled, have opportunities opening up for them like Ali Baba’s cave. Talent alone has not taken artists to the pinnacle of fame. The greatest composer in the history of music had to depend on his benefactors. The tragedy of Mozart epitomizes an artist’s struggle to survive. In India, it’s worse. For musicians, dancers, actors with no resources other than their own creativity, success is an elusive dream. Their careers often end in tragic circumstances.

Covid-19 is the latest challenge. Deprived of public performances in India and abroad, they are left in a vacuum. What has the government provided to help them and their families at this critical period of their careers? More importantly, have their audiences, who revelled in their performances in good times, thought of providing them relief when they need it most? Where are their earlier benefactors who used them to promote themselves? These artists were the brand ambassadors for business houses. They were the main props for religious festivals. Their presence lent colour and substance to that biggest of all festivals which boasted of being the largest held in the world -- the Madras Music Season – when sabhas fell over each other to bag the best, when the performing artists, too, left no stone unturned to grab programmes. The public revelled in this month-long carnival and the media had its hands full with enough material to fill its pages and channels. Why are the organisers of this festival silent now?

The Government of India has provided some relief through its scheme for pension and medical aid to “scholars who have contributed significantly in their specialised fields.” Here, once again, the accent is on specialisation and academic inputs. What happens to the thousands of other struggling dancers, musicians, actors, painters, sculptors who used to eke out a living by their sheer skills, which have no takers today? Artists like weavers, who made a living by the skill of their fingers, from Kashmir to Kancheepuram – the matchless carpet makers and saree designers – how do they generate income with no takers for their creations? Or, the iconic veena makers of Thanjavur – where do they go in search of customers? We are not talking of famous, well paid artists here. Our focus has to turn to the lesser known, lesser in demand artists who have nowhere to turn without a stage and an audience. They are the ones who need support in these times.

Indian audiences also take their artists for granted. They expect them to perform gratis. When the legendary dancer, Alarmel Valli, was invited to Bengaluru by the Ministry of Kannada and Culture, that department was flooded with requests for “free passes.” There were indignant cries of protest when the National Gallery of Modern Art (NGMA) charged a pittance as entry fee. Why should we pay to see those paintings? Or watch plays by amateurs? Or hear musicians sing? Our sense of entitlement in these matters is deeply rooted. We feel we are obliging these artists by our mere presence. Our painters should be happy that we deigned to spend time looking at their work. A writer should thank her stars that we even cared to buy and read her book. Our musicians must feel grateful that we are giving them our precious time to listen.

The sad part of this mindset is that we cannot visualise the time and effort it took them to arrive. When we pay to hear a four-hour long concert, we are actually paying the artist for 40 years of sadhana, sacrifice and drudgery. We are paying them for the lucrative careers they gave up, the arduous lifestyles they adopted and the personal sacrifices they made just to “entertain” us. If we don’t repay them, we are the poorer for it.

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(Published 08 August 2020, 08:38 IST)

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