It must have been a daunting task for vaggeyakkara D. Pattammal to adapt Jayadeva’s Gita Govinda into Tamil; the 12th century Sanskrit ‘love song’ between Radha and Krishna is a revered piece of literature for Vaishnava Hindus and an inspiration for performing arts across India.
Her adaptation ‘Madhava Geetham’ is meticulous and faithfully keeps to the poet’s characterisations. While the language is suitably dramatic, there is no attempt to compete with or mirror Jayadeva’s vivid imagery. The vageyyakkara retained the Ashtapadi ragas as learnt from her guru, Alamelu Jayarama Iyer, a disciple of kirtanacharya C.R.Srinivasa Iyengar. The 24 songs are not in eight couplets each as in the original Ashtapadis, but in a kriti format with a pallavi, anupallavi and a four-line Charanam. each song is preceded by a narration as in the original.
As ‘Madhava Geetham’ concentrates on the storyline in ‘Gita Govinda,’ it is eminently suitable for a dance drama, nritya-natya, as against the Ashtapadis whose beauty lies in the individual mood pieces.
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Bharata Kalanjali, the 51-year old institution founded by veteran artistes V.P. Dhananjayan and Shanta, first presented ‘Madhava Geetham’ in 1984; it was revived to commemorate D. Pattammal’s 90th birth year and is a re-worked version under the artistic direction of Bharatanatyam artist-photographer Satyajit Dhananjayan.
The love story per se is flat, yet there was not a dull moment in the 80-minute production — it was a well-planned effort. The recorded music, enriched by several swara passages, became a melodious base on which the vision of ‘Madhava Geetham’ rested. The story flowed smoothly thanks to the accessible language of the songs and the clear enunciation of the lyrics (Radha Badri, Krupa Lakshmi, Vignesh Ishwar).
The visualisation had a soft-focus feel to it — unhurried movements, restrained abhinaya, suggestive lighting (Martin Jose, Satyajit), an artistic backdrop of drop-down panels of hand-painted recreations of Rajput medieval paintings (V.V. Ramani) and simple costuming, that used South Indian saris, Kalamkari odhnis and North Indian jewellery (Shanta, Anupama Satyajit). One felt ‘Madhava Geetham’ was respectful to both Jayadeva’s protagonists and Pattammal’s songs.
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There was also a spirit of artistic exploration, the obvious ones being the Kathakali thiranottam-inspired unveil of Krishna in the beginning, the bright green spotlight on Radha that moved along with her, cinematic style, when she walked through the forest to meet Krishna in ‘Kannanaik kanden’ and the introduction of humour into an otherwise serious show. The comic relief, while slapstick, was introduced appropriately. A boy taps Krishna’s shoulder pretending to be Radha while Krishna is seated dejectedly startling him into hope — an inspired idea executed with finesse.
When Krishna is dancing with the gopis, he looks for Radha and realises his recklessness has sent her away in ‘Yenna pizhai seidhu vitten’ (Bowli, Adi, corresponding to ‘Mamiyam chalita’); Uttiya Barua (Krishna) made this transition, from carefree to remorseful, look natural. His acting was always refined, especially during the ‘Kobam kollaadhe Radhe’ (Mukhari, Adi, corresponding to ‘Priye Charusheele’) highpoint, when Krishna declares his devotion to Radha and asks her to abandon her baseless pride and says ‘Place your foot on my head — A sublime flower destroying (the) poison of love!’
This line is significant with regard to its spiritual and dramatic significance as Krishna asks for forgiveness, making it a turning point in the love story. This happened to however be the lowest point of ‘Madhava...’ as there were two gopis in the corner watching and giggling during this. Moments of intimacy offer opportunities to create depth. This was a missed opportunity.
‘Yenna pizhai’ was arresting for the haunting beat on the kanjira, that reflected Krishna’s remorse. There were other instances when the music stood out as in the songs in Vasantha (‘Vasantha kaalamum vandhadhe’), Ahiri ( ‘Sonnapadi Kannan varavillaye’) and the Sri mangalam. The Oonjal melody (Kurinji, khanda gati) signifying the bride making festivities was beautiful, as was its visualisation and involvement of all dancers. Kalakshetra veteran N.S. Jayalakshmi has referred to this involvement earlier as ‘side-acting’. The characterisations of Radha (Meenakshi Narayanan), sakhi (Akhila Kaveri) and others in the cast of 12 were refined.
Krishna’s story was sandwiched between two devotional songs, declaring Krishna as the Poorna Avatara, as Jayadeva did many times over in his enduring treatise, the Gita Govinda.