NSD repertoire recently presented a play, Vidyottama. UK Banerjee speaks to director, Mohan Maharishi
Kalidasa, indisputably the greatest Sanskrit poet and playwright of ancient India, has his historical origin shrouded in a scholastic maze. He may have lived in the 5th century AD — in the then Viramaditya’s reign — either near the Himalayas, or in the vicinity of Ujjain, or in Kalinga. The three speculations are based respectively on Kalidasa’s detailed description of the Himalayas in his Kumarasambhava; the display of his love for Ujjain in Meghaduta; and his highly eulogistic descriptions of Kalingan emperor Hemangada in Raghuvamsa. Neverthless — based on his topographic descriptions, citation of rural folklore, and the regional flora and fauna that only local populations would know — it is generally accepted that he was born in Kashmir, but moved for diverse reasons to further south and sought patronage of local kings to prosper. It’s also believed that he came from humble origin, was married to a princess and was challenged by his wife to study poetry and become a poet.
Vidyottama, recently presented by the NSD Repertory, steers clear of the shades of academic cross-currents and squarely places the legendary dramatist in the court of Vikramaditya — alongside other eminent scholars like Vararuchi — as happily married to his stunningly beautiful and highly-gifted daughter Vidyottama. Scripted and directed by the thespian Mohan Maharishi, the play begins with Vidyottama (literally meaning one excelling in scholarship) practising the bewitching art of Mohiniyattam dance-style and teaching it to others, including her consort. It is a scholar of high calibre, with an intimate knowledge of the Mahabharata and points out the episode of Shakuntala to Kalidasa: firing his imagination. Being also a critic of great acumen, she provides inputs that both surprises and baffles the poet.
In a charming ‘play within a play’, Vidyottama becomes Shakuntala while Kalidasa impersonates Dushyanta, and the duo works out the painful separation of the pregnant bride from her unwilling suitor. Thereafter, her new disposition keeps her away from the palace for several nights and days. This is seen to cause utter consternation and concern all round. Most of all, Kalidasa is affected by her frequent absences, whereas she refuses to divulge any information. She lands in the current times, is unfortunately ravaged and has no way to return. The play ends with a poignant processsion of half-hidden lamps: held aloft by lamenting women. Music is adequately atmospheric and the vibrant dance-sequences come with eloquent mnemonics, accomapanied by the sonorous Keralan edekka.
Excerpts from interaction with the director:
nHow did you conceive of the ideaIJ
Over a long time, I’ve felt anguish whenever I saw or read about a woman’s ignominy in our “civilised” society I’ve always experienced a personal pain that this could happen to the half of our population, mostly without any justice being done. I wanted to voice a protest and this is my artistic form in which I could do it. Theatre is my medium and having done Kafka’s The Trial, later Einstein and always a new form of play — I launched Vidyottama.
lThe play is highly stylised, until you abruptly introduce stark reality in a modern setting where a uniformed policeman is controling traffic…
Yes, this is deliberate. In Vidyottma’s time-travel, I let her land there and get tragically violated by the goons. You would’ve noticed that the policeman’s whistle remains stylised: varying from commanding tones to whispers of shock.
lBut you didn’t adequately prepare the viewers for the transition from stylisation to realism…
That’s not quite true. I’ve shown Vidyottama forever dissatisfied and restless, deciding to use her boon to travel freely in time and space. This is stylisitically shown by her ascending the ramp in a glowing light for going away; and her return through the darkness: as though from an unknown arena.The idea of “time-machine” comes from HG Wells, but I’ve not used such a mechanised contraption. On the contrary, Vidyottam’s boon here comes from her prayers to Shiva: kept implicit in the play. She uses her unique gift to come to our times, without letting out her secrets to anybody.
lThis is quite a new stratagem…
My story is a mere shell to encapsulate ideas and issues that arise in our contemporary society with great urgency. Through the poetry of Kalidasa, I’ve re-visited the classical tradition. As a playwright and director, my effort has been to search for new modes of artistic expression.