Maula...the Way presented by Subha Dance Company captured the spirit of a constant journey towards the divine power through its sufi performance. By Utpal K Banerjee
Based on what one encounters and experiences in life, can there be a journey towards the divinityIJ Can the earthy, the sensual, the ‘here and now’ of this physical planet reach out for the ‘there and then’ of the other world, the spiritual, the divine — and yearn for a union with the immanent, the ineffableIJ Can this conceptual connection be made more potent and charged — as a constant struggle between this bank and the other one (hadd, anhadd) — and when one reaches this point of intercession, can this arrival become the most important intention of one’s heartIJ
Maula… the Way, presented recently by Subha Dance Company, raised these fundamental questions and concerns. Crafted in classical style — with concept, design and choreography by Bharati Dang — it had an underlying Sufi trend to follow. The prelude captured the spirit of a constant journey of multiple human selves from hadd to anhadd. This was followed by the most famous dua (benediction) of Hazrat Rabia Basri, famous as the first Sufi woman — from Basra of Iraq — belonging to the 8th century, who prayed: ‘O God! If I worship you for fear of Hell, burn me in Hell; if I worship you in hope of Paradise, exclude me from Paradise; but if I worship you for your own sake, grudge me not your everlasting beauty…’. Next came the libretto: Pooja karunga…, showing the dancer’s love for his asset of anklets, as if this way, the riyazz (practice) with ghungroos would take him to the height of his ecstasy.
Then followed the depiction of Sohni Mahiwal, a popular tragic romance of Punjab. Sohni, unhappily married to a man she despised, swam every night across the river — using an earthen pot to keep her afloat in the water — to where her beloved Mehar herded buffaloes. One night, her jealous sister-in-law replaced her pot with a vessel of unbaked clay, which dissolved in water and she died in the whirling waves of the river. Sohni, ever faithful to her eternal love-covenant with Mehar, was forever united with him through death.
The penultimate piece was based on Amir Khusrow’s pain and ultimate devotion to his murshid (guru), the Sufi saint Hazrat Khwaja Nizamuddin Auliya. The latter did not have children but was deeply attached to his sister’s son, Khwaja Taqiuddin Nuh. When Nuh suddenly died, the saint was immensely saddened and grieved over the loss for long. Observing, one day, village women dressed in yellow, carrying mustard flowers and singing on the road to make their God ‘happy’, Khusrau dressed up in a yellow saree and went before the saint, singing along. Recognising his favourite disciple and amused by his costume and song, the saint finally broke into a smile. This was commemorated as an occasion for rejoicing, and since then, his followers have celebrated the onset of Basant (spring) — dressing up in yellow, carrying mustard blooms and singing qawwali — as was done here with exuberance.
The finale marked the culmination of all roads when everyone reached one’s desired destination, where all was one. There was no separate entity, no ‘you’ or ‘me’, — but all amalgamated, all carrying the same yearning to reach the divine, Maula, each in his or her own way.
As Bharati summarised, “We select our own path in our life. If we have good intentions, tinged with purity and honesty, our chosen path surely makes us reach up to the divine: be it a dancer’s love for his or her ghungroos (anklets); Soni’s madness for Mahiwal; or Amir Khusrow’s unbounded devotion to his guru Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya.”
On the use of Kathak style, she explained, “Our form has undergone an amazing journey since the temple times, Mughal times and now the proscenium times. Since my early years of learning Kathak, I was most interested not only performing the physical steps and movements, but also de-limiting my inner thoughts and ideas for a particular story, piece of history, life of person, glimpse of divinity. Kathak allows one to explore for an experimental work, without touching the purity of the genre. I sought to use the form as a tool of conversation between one’s art and one’s experience that can extend across distances. Maula is a conceptualised dance production that uses authentic texts and expressions about divinity: visualised by professional artists of Jaipur gharana, in dialogue with a philosophy,” she concluded.
Conventional Kathak performance tends to follow a progression in tempo from slow to fast, ending with a dramatic climax. These are particularly evinced in a short dance composition (tukra) or a longer one (toda). There are also compositions consisting solely of footwork (chakradhar). Often the performer engages in rhythmic play with the time-cycle, for example, splitting it into triplets or quintuplet, which are responded on the footwork, so that it is in counter-point to the rhythm on the percussion. All compositions are performed to make the final step and beat of the composition land on the ‘sam’ (even or equal) as the first beat of the time-cycle. Most compositions also have ‘bolt’ (rhythmic words) which serve both as mnemonics to the composition and whose recitation (padhant) forms an integral part of the performance. Compositions become aurally very captivating when presented this way. Often tukras are composed to highlight specific aspects of the dance, for example gait, or use of corners and diagonals, and so on. A popular tukra type is the chakkarwala tukra, showcasing the signature spins of Kathak. Because they are generally executed on the heel, these differ from ballet’s pirouettes (which are properly executed on the toe or ball of the foot). The spins usually manifest themselves at the end of the tukra, often in large numbers — five, nine, fifteen, or more, sequential spins are common. These tukras are popular with audiences because they are visually exciting and are executed at great speed.