Odissi: Kumkum Lal with Kelucharan Mohapatra and Bhubaneswar Mishra, composing and rehearsing Yamihe
Director: Ashok Lal
Duration: 01:14:13; Aspect Ratio: 1.366:1; Hue: 70.830; Saturation: 0.103; Lightness: 0.212; Volume: 0.379; Cuts per Minute: 4.029; Words per Minute: 42.187
Summary: Kumkum Lal spent four years in Tokyo, Japan, teaching and performing Odissi extensively. In 1986, with her husband Ashok, she hosted Guru Kelucharan Mohapatra (Guruji) and a group of musicians including the renowned composer Pt. Bhubaneswar Mishra, from India, for a month. During his stay there, Guruji taught Kumkum and held workshops for her students. Kumkum and Guruji also travelled across Japan, holding lecture demonstrations at universities and performing in different environments.
Guruji often taught, composed or rehearsed into the night. Ashok, who had just purchased his first video camera, recorded significant portions of their Japan tour. This video depicts events over the course of three or four hours one night, as Kumkum and Guruji worked with musicians to synchronise Bhubaneswar Mishra’s newly composed version of Jayadeva’s ashtapadi, ‘Yamihe kamiha saranam’, which is set to Raga Misra Sankarabharanam. Later that same evening, they also go over the music for the Oriya song ‘Braja ku chora’, possibly for the first time. We watch Guruji sprawled comfortably on the floor, watching Japanese television with great interest while he imagines the choreography for ‘Braja ku’, humming the song as the musicians rehearse, and making small motions with his hand to recall the choreographic ideas he has. Bhubaneswar Mishra plays the violin soulfully as he experiments with the raga.
Kumkum Lal has been a disciple of Guru Kelucharan Mohapatra for more than four decades. Her initial training in Odissi was under Guru Harekrishna Behera, and she has also studied and performed creative dance with Narendra Sharma, and Chhau under Guru Krishna Chandra Naik. She has taught English at Delhi University. She was a keen reviewer of dance and has acted in plays. She has worked with Sangeet Natak Akademi as the head of their dance section and was awarded a senior fellowship by the Indian government to work on a Sanskrit treatise on Odissi.
So much has been written about Guruji, and clips from his performances are easily accessible online; however, it is hard to come across video material showing him outside the performance space. One has read about his idiosyncrasies, but to see them come alive, albeit in two-dimensional form, is a different experience altogether.
When Kumkum returned to this video after two-and-a-half decades, she was very amused by the kitchen apron she found herself wearing throughout those hours of rehearsal. One might notice that she keeps walking in and out of the frame, alternating between kitchen and makeshift dance space beside the dining table as she cooks and assists in the composition simultaneously.
Kumkum also treasures this period because it gave her the opportunity to work closely with Bhubaneswar Mishra, whom she describes as the architect of Odissi music.
Here, her student Ranjana Dave converses with her as they watch these videos again, while reminiscence and hindsight come together. The years Ranjana spent learning from Kumkum were full of invaluable dancing, enriching conversations on all and sundry, and much relief from hostel food.
The sanchari bhava in Yamihe is as interpreted by Kumkum Lal. Guidance in translating the Oriya lyrics for ‘Braja ku’ was provided by Kumkum Lal and Sangita Gosain.
Beautifully filmed on a VHS handicam by Ashok Lal, husband of Kumkum lal. This is perhaps the rarest of close-ups of guruji not dancing.
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Oriya
abhinaya
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Oimachi, Shinagawa-ku, Tokyo, Japan
Recorded music plays in the background.
Transcript:
...
tala ukutai re
Ke sikhadela dola dhalibara
tala ukutai re
Translation:
...to roll your eyes like that and make faces?
Who has taught you all these pranks,
to roll your eyes like that and make faces?
Guruji asks Kumkum something (which is indistinct). They seem to be discussing the shortage of time, possibly in a performance. He toys with his nose and continues fidgeting with his spectacles and face. Placeing a finger of his lip, he listens to the music, seemingly preoccupied with something else.
Kumkum: I'm still confused about when this was composed. Kumkum (Mohanty) says she learnt it in 1984 but I think this version that you see in the Japan videos is what Guruji ended up teaching others later.
Bhubaneswar Mishra
Guruji
Kelucharan Mohapatra
Kumkum Lal
Odissi
dance composition
He would be composing in his brains - the music is going on and he is thinking of the movement - that is how it seems - because he's listening very carefully if you look at him. This particular music that you're hearing has been sung by a woman whose name I don't recall, but she had this shrill voice.
Music in the background.
Transcript:
Pada bathaiba pora ahuriki
nata anti nahi re
Translation:
You have been kicking your legs about restlessly
Aren't you satisfied now? Is there any end to your antics?
Guruji removes his glasses, stares through them and might be cleaning them offscreen.
Transcript:
nata anti nahi re
Translation:
Is there any end to your antics...
The line if repeated several times as the song reaches its end. Guruji describes the corresponding dance actions to Kumkum.
Guruji: Now it (the baby) has to be held and carried.
He moves his head slightly, responding to the movement and possibly imagining the beat of the mardala in his head.
The camera zooms out a little to show him tapping his finger.
Transcript:
Braja ku chora asichi gheni jibo
suatuni hoi re!
Translation:
The thief who has come to Braja will take you away
Now, sleep quietly, will you?
In his other hands, he holds the pair of spectacles. He explains how the mother in the song plays with the child, whirling him around energetically till the child and mother fall asleep together.
Kumkum: The mother also falls asleep? (Laughs)
Kumkum: Am I dancing?
Ranjana: I'm not sure, maybe you are, but it's not in the frame.
Kumkum: No, maybe not, because the composition is going on in his brain (sic)
A fair copy of the music had to be made with Manjul singing. This is some sort of a rough rehearsal.
Guruji is speaking to someone. The camera zooms out to show Kumkum sitting beside him on a chair. She is wearing a housecoat and her hair is wound in two plaits. It is probably night. She yawns and Guruji asks for a tape to be rewound. Bhubaneswar Mishra also occupies a chair at the dining table. The wall clock shows that it is past midnight.
Kumkum: I can't believe I'm wearing this housecoat! By the way, I still have it!
Guruji and Kumkum discuss something about the player. 'Srita kamala' starts playing.
Kumkum: Who is singing?
Guruji answers.
Kumkum and Manjul are now talking to each other.
Guruji eats something and asks Kumkum to bring him water.
flower vase
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(Break in recording)
The camera focuses on an arrangement of flowers and the clock. This is probably another day, for the time is now 8 (presumably, pm).
An ukuta of Bilahari Pallavi, in raga Bilahari, is being rehearsed. It is dark outside.
Guruji, Manjul and Bhubaneswar Mishra are seen sitting near the television set. Manjul plays the harmonium while Bhubaneswar Mishra reads a newspaper - Japan Times.
Guruji lifts up his spectacles and places them on his forehead. Bhubaneswar Mishra folds the newspaper and takes up his violin.
She begins singing. He asks her to stop and plays the opening notes on the violin. Guruji asks for a slight modification in what is being played.
Ranjana: Did you get any Indian channels in Tokyo?
(As I annotate, I realise there was probably only one Indian channel back then; the plural, which I so easily refer to, was yet to become a reality)
Kumkum: No, not at all, but there was one channel that would show English news, matches and other things. I think he was watching that.
Radha is in the vetasa vana for her tryst with Krishna. The vetasa vana is a forest of tall aquatic grasses on the banks of the river Yamuna. She is weaving her way through the grass hoping to find him, parting it as she walks, to meet him, since he is supposed to be here. This is the atmosphere that the song is set in.
Gita Govinda
Jayadeva
ashtapadi
Manjul begins singing again.
Transcript:
Prasarati sasadhara-bimbe vihita-vilambe
Translation:
The moon had risen to its zenith, and Radha's hopes that Madhava (Krishna) would surely come, waned.
Bhubaneswar Mishra corrects her and she repeats a word again.
Transcript:
...vilambe ca madhave vidhura
viracita-vividha-vilapam sa paritapam cakaroccaih
Translation:
Afflicted by separation, she began to weep aloud in helplessness. Radha was in intense agony and expressed her lamentation in various ways.
We see Sudarshan sitting beside Bhubaneswar Mishra and playing the flute.
Guruji talks to Bhubaneswar Mishra in Oriya and then calls Kumkum. Manjul goes over some of the lines herself. Guruji has stretched to a completely prone position, his head leaning on one of the sofas. He supports himself with his lower arm on the floor. The television is still on.
Manjul sings the next part of the song.
Transcript:
Yami he! kam iha saranam
(sakhi)-jana-vacana-vancita
Translation:
To whom should I turn for shelter now?
All my friends have gone back on their promises
The moon has risen. All the clandestine lovers met in the early part of the night, before the moon rose, because the light from the moon was the enemy of secret lovers; it renders them visible. It's a song of jealousy - the nayika here is the virahotkanthita nayika. Krishna has gone to another person. Radha is the one who is suffering because of separation.
Kumkum: Originally, when 'Yamihe' was composed in Gandharva Mahavidyalaya, it was Madhup Mudgal, Madhavi's (Madhavi Mudgal) brother...he composed the music in one of the early-morning ragas - Shree. But it was a very subdued tune, so it was recomposed in Shankarabharanam by Bhubaneswar Mishra. So there are several versions of Yamihe - one traditional, one in Shree and this one in Shankara.
The entry for this piece is from the opposite side; so you enter from stage right, from where the musicians sit. Guruji thought so much about this - because Radha is already supposed to be at the meeting place, she doesn't enter from 'outside' (stage left), so stage right is used. These details - one only notices them if one is around at the time of composition. This was composed in 1979 with Madhavi Mudgal, Rani Karna and I.
Kumkum: 'All my friends have cheated me. Whom do I go to for shelter now?'
Kumkum: So she suffers so much that she even contemplates committing suicide in the water. It has come as a sanchari here but it's there in the text somewhere. And she wants to jump into the fire.
Kumkum, vocalising Radha: I have made up my mind that I am going to give up my life. This is a pose for dying - with kartarimukha. All my friends have cheated me.
Kumkum: Krishna did not come to the forest at the time that was decided upon. My whole youth was laid waste by his not coming.
'Ahaha' is a lament that repeatedly appears in the text. This composition is devoid of hurried or frenzied motions; not too many intricate details either.
Guruji keeps count of the tala but is intently staring at the television.
Transcript:
Kathita-samaye 'pi harir ahaha na yayau vanam
mama viphalam idam amala rupam-api yauvanam
Yami he! kam iha saranam
(sakhi)-jana-vacana-vancita
Translation:
Hari has not come at the designated time,
my youth and beauty are rendered useless by this neglect.
To whom should I turn for shelter now?
when all my friends have gone back on their promises
Kumkum: Her suffering is compounded because she feels she has been let down by the sakhi, who was supposed to bring him here, and she feels that the sakhi has cheated her. So it's not only the viraha but also this feeling.
The house is full of flowers and plants.
(Break in recording)
Transcript:
(...nishi gahanam api shilitam)
Yad-anugamanaya-nishi gahanam api shilitam
tena mama hrdayam idam asamasara kilitam
Translation:
Alas! That very person, in whose pursuit I entered this wild forest on a dark night, facing great dangers along the way, is piercing my heart with the arrows of sensuality.
A small ring-like object lies on the floor next to Bhubaneswar Mishra. The rings have probably been taken off for a better grip on the bow.
Kumkum: I went through so many difficulties in the darkness of the night. (Kumkum: And now this is the usual abhisarika nayika scene) First I slyly slipped out of the house. While I was going towards the meeting place, I encountered a pathik, a traveller, and was nearly caught by him. But I hid behind a tree. Then I saw a snake. I went through so much for the sake of meeting Krishna. I wove my way through the tall aquatic grasses - walking in the forest, a thorn pierced my foot. I was in great pain. My heart stopped when I felt something pulling me back - to my relief, I realised that my veil had snagged on a tree branch.
Ranjana: Where are these sancharis derived from? They say a lot about how women were imagined in their time and what actions were understood to be within their right. Is it folklore that they originate from?
Kumkum: No, I think these sancharis is derived from classical literature. In classical literature, the heroes are described and they give examples of what happens to the different types of nayikas. For instance, this is the classical representation of an abhisarika nayika.
Ranjana: But, what an abhisarika nayika can be threatened by - in this case, the traveller, the snake - aren't these examples we draw from some trove of societal mores?
Kumkum: See, Radha is a married woman. To leave her mother-in-law and sister-in-law and go away secretly is hard for her. All the gopis were married but were enamoured of Krishna.
Ranjana: How come we never hear of the husbands? Were their husbands all travelling merchants, who would go away for a long time?
Kumkum: One can't say, the female relatives are mentioned because they represent a threat to her dalliance with Krishna, but the men are never mentioned.
The abhisarika nayika is the ones who goes out to meet her lover, in secret. In dance, there are many characteristics commonly associated with the nayika - for example, she takes off her anklets before a secret meeting, wears a dark cloak to blend in with the night, snuffs out the lamp. The idea here is that Radha has gone through a lot to meet Krishna, and he never turns up.
Ranjana: But what I want to know is whether the abhisarika's tryst with these difficulties is something we imagine as dancers or an implied idea in the text.
Kumkum: Of course it is implied, to an extent. Take 'yad-anugamanaya-nishi gahanam api shilitam'; it means that she has faced great dangers to make her way to the meeting place. But all the societal difficulties are never mentioned in the Gita Govinda, if that's what you're talking about.
Ranjana: So then, is it safe to assume that we might be imposing our ideas of what is proper on the text? If Radha and Krishna were accepted and worshipped as a couple, logically, with their union considered divine, why should it be scandalous to have them come together?
Kumkum: I think the idea of Radha and Krishna as a couple is a very post-bhakti development. There is nothing strikingly Vaishnava about Gita Govinda. Except for the first two songs which are stutis extolling Vishnu, the rest of the text is an openly erotic poem, not about two gods, but about two ordinary lovers named Radha and Krishna. But from the exclusion of Krishna in Dasavatara - where Balarama is considered an avatar but Krishna is not counted, it is obvious that Krishna is taken to be a god.
Krishna and Rama were just
digpalas in Vedic mythology, gods of the directions. The emphasis back then was on sacrifice and havans, not idols and all that. Eventually many of the gods of the directions crystallised into full-fledged divine figures and began to be worshipped independently. Krishna first became a superhero, then a super-lover. Also what matters is that he has a very attractive personality when constrasted with the austere nature of Rama.
Also, the charm of these erotic escapades lies in their clandestine nature!
Transcript:
...kam iha saranam (sakhi)-jana-vacana-vancita
Translation:
To whom should I turn for shelter now?
when all my friends have gone back on their promises
The camera focuses on the TV and shows us what Guruji is watching. Two girls make conversation. One of them is leaning against a wall.
Transcript:
Mam-ahaha vidhurayati...
Translation:
How unfortunate I am to be alone...
(Break in recording) Guruji interjects and the violinist plays the notes that precede this stanza. There is some confusion over the tala and they go over it once.
Kumkum: Bhubaneswar Babu always used to say that he was able to compose only when he was on something that moved - like a train or a bus. Of course, here nothing moved but we still composed!
This is the viraha-utkanthita. The height of suffering (separation). Radha is saying -
yamihe kamiha sharanam - where shall I go when my best friends have become my enemies? It's like a crescendo of suffering.
As she waits, she suddenly feels a coolness on her body. She looks up and sees the moonbeam, which is giving her so much pleasure. But then, she is reminded of the one who has not come, and that very moonbeam becomes unwelcome. At that time, she reminded of some other person who must have the good fortune of enjoying the company of Krishna, she who would be kissed by him, as Radha waits desolately.
Transcript:
Mam-ahaha vidhurayati...
Translation:
How unfortunate I am to be alone...
Guruji interrupts Manjul again and sings the line to demonstrate he pace he wants. Kumkum interjects and says there is a '
theka' (the main cycle of rhythm) in between.
Transcript:
Mam-ahaha vidhurayati madhura-madhu-yamini
Translation:
How unfortunate I am to be alone on this rasa-laden spring night, unsteady with the pain of loneliness and abandonment, lamenting my separation.
The camera has now shifted to the other side of the room, behind Manjul; it faces Guruji.
Transcript:
...kapi-harim anubhavati krta-sukrta-kamini
Translation:
Simultaneously, some other fortunate young damsel must be in Krishna's arms, playfully making love to him.
Transcript:
Yami he! kam iha saranam
(sakhi)-jana-vacana-vancita
Translation:
To whom should I turn for shelter now?
when all my friends have gone back on their promises
Kumkum: She says - I find the jewellery difficult to bear. In the sanchari, it shows how the arms which have the 'valaya' were used to embrace Krishna, and thus became the ornament-extension of him.
In our Tokyo house, the kitchen was the only room without a carpeted floor. That is where I used to practise when alone and that's where Asako (Takami) started learning Odissi. This is the first floor of our house. Downstairs, we had a bathroom and two western-style rooms for guests. So if I danced here, there were no problems.
The camera focuses on Sudarshan playing the flute. He stops to catch the tune.
Transcript:
Ahaha kalayami valayadi-mani-bhusanam
Translation:
My bangles, the jewelled belt on my waist, all my ornaments burn my body like tortuous flames of my unfulfiled sensual desire.
From over Manjul's shoulder, the camera zooms in on Guruji's face.
Transcript:
hari-viraha-dahana-vahanena bahu-dusanam
Translation:
These ornaments have turned into curses that inflame the fire of separation and inflict extreme misery. They are not dear to me anymore, for their value is only realized by the lover's glance.
Transcript:
Kusuma-sukumara-tanum atanu-shara-lilaya
Break in recording.
Kumkum: '
Atanu' is another name for
Madana. It means 'without body'. '
Shara' is arrow.
Lilaya - the play of cupid's arrows has made me so delicate that even the lover's garland wounds me deeply.
Kumkum enters the room. She wears a kitchen apron and is preparing dinner as she listens to the musicians rehearse.
Guruji taps out the tala on his thighs as he listens to Manjul sing.
Manjul corrects her notation aloud. Kumkum is also sitting with her notebook.
Transcript:
Kusuma-sukumara-tanum atanu-shara-lilaya
Translation:
What can I say about my other ornaments, even the garland of forest flowers on my chest inflicts terrible blows like the arrows of cupid raining down upon my body, which is more delicate than the most fragile flower blossom (translation of the entire stanza).
Kumkum: I'm reminding him of the old composition. He may have already changed it to something different!
This is the panchabana sequence. The bana is made up of five flowers. Each flower has a different effect on the restless lover.
The musicians are revising their text as they go along. Kumkum also starts going over the dance as she sits at the dining table. One hears snatches of the violin and flute. Kumkum's hands repeatedly trace a garland over her chest - the garland of flowers that pierces the body like the sharp arrows of cupid. There is silence for a while. Guruji changes his position.
The silence is broken by the sound of the violin. Manjul resumes her singing.
Guruji asks them to repeat the song from a certain point. Kumkum interrupts asking him for some clarifications about the five flowers in the garland. She refers to her notebook as she talks to him.
Kumkum: Beginning with simple infatuation, the effects of these flowers get more serious till the heroine is plunged into full-blown longing.
Kumkum is on the phone, talking to someone in Hindi. Bhubaneswar Mishra plays a particular section of the melody over and over. Sudarshan walks back from beyond the dining table to sit beside Mishra and idly rifles through some papers. Manjul starts singing again.
Ranjana: A melody on the violin is interspersed with a repetition of the first line of the stanza as the panchabana sequence is played out in music.
Kumkum: And now, she is in such a delicate condition, that her flower-like body has become the battleground of the arrows of cupid.
Kumkum: 'My body, as delicate as this flower, because of it having become the battleground of cupid is unable to bear a flower garland because even the garland lacerates her heart.' There's no mention of panchabana in this. In the original composition, the flowers in the garland become like the panchabana and therefore they lacerate the heart. He composed it here in Delhi but when he taught it in Orissa he incorporated the panchabana sequence using the first line 'kusuma sukumara'. However, in the original, the panchabana sequence was set to a separate piece of instrumental music. The second time, he just had the music composed and then set his dance to that. So each flower's sanchari became longer. For some of the flowers, I had to shorten my enactment, and for some, they became unnecessarily long. Here, what I'm performing doesn't always match the music. He would record the music and compose on it, which is what happened here. Originally, it went according to meaning.
What Bhubaneswar Mishra did was - for the first flower, 10 beats, second flower, 20 beats - using that sort of progression he structured the music. But sometimes the music fell short or was too long.
The part depicting the five flowers that resemble the arrows of cupid has a recurring string of melodies played only by the violin. Manjul sings the opening line of the stanza to separate these melodies.
Manjul has trouble catching the 'sam' and Guruji intervenes. Kumkum still seems to be on the phone.
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Guruji has some tobacco or paan masala in his mouth. He sings along with Manjul sometimes to point out intricacies in the melody. Manjul begins singing the next line.
Kumkum, speaking about the panchabana, the arrow of five flowers:
This is the kamal (lotus). It is just the beginning of love. This is when the first flower hits you...it is the awakening of love. You're just affected but you don't know what has happened to you. It is like what the mugdha nayika feels. In the second one, the neelkamal there is a feeling of attraction for someone and you don't know why you are attracted to that person. The third flower, ashok, causes a physical thrill in the body, making the hair stand on end. The fourth flower, the amramanjari, causes thirst and the heat of the body dries up her breath. So she takes sandal and applies it to her body with a lotus leaf but she finds that the chandan burns her like snake's poison, so she wipes it off. The fifth flower, malli, makes the body burn with passion; cool things don't help her state. Malli puts the nayika in a state of stambana, stupor.
Guruji interrupts and asks her to enunciate a high note in the earlier line while making the transition to the next line. Kumkum is speaking loudly and her voice rivals that of the musicians.
Transcript:
Kusuma-sukumara-tanum atanu-shara-lilaya
srag api hrdi hanti mam ati-visama-silaya
Translation:
What can I say about my other ornaments, even the garland of forest flowers on my chest inflicts terrible blows like the arrows of cupid raining down upon my body, which is more delicate than the most fragile flower blossom.
Transcript:
Yami he! Yami he! Yami he!
kam iha saranam
(sakhi)-jana-vacana-vancita
Translation:
To whom should I turn for shelter now?
All my friends have gone back on their promises
Oh! Where do I go? Where do I go?
Manjul stops after singing '
jana vacana vancita'; Guruji asks her not to stop. Instead, she must repeat the last line and then return to '
yami he'. Guruji is in his element now, singing along and gesticulating as he sings. The notes of the violin end the song as Guruji sings the line a few more times after Manjul has stopped.
Kumkum: Guruji had a lot to contribute when it came to the music also.
Ranjana: 'All my friends have cheated me. Whom do I go to for shelter now?' This is repeated to great melodramatic effect as the piece ends.
Manjul asks about the number of repetitions. Bhubaneswar Mishra and Guruji both reply to her. Guruji continues speaking. Mishra looks into the camera and smiles. Guruji sings the last set of repetitions again.
The camera has now shifted to the other side. The musicians begin playing the song again. Guruji is sitting upright now. He moves his head in time with the music. The flute joins the violin.
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Filmed in 1986, on a VHS camcorder by Ashok Lal, the husband of Kumkum Lal. The setting is an apartment in Tokyo. The doyen of odissi guru Keluchan Mohapatra and musicians from orissa stay up late into the night choreographing new works, that will soon become key parts of the odissi dance repertoire.
The camera turns to show Kumkum dancing in the confined space next to the dining table. She moves in a circle opening imaginary windows to look for her lover.
Kumkum: What I love about this piece is the minimal ornamentation. There is no 'dhoom-dhadaka'; so much can be conveyed just by shifting your weight from one foot to another - simple gestures hold so much meaning.
The dance has been composed already, but the music is still being structured. So Guruji would make me go over the dance while they fixed the music composition.
Ranjana: In classical dance, the dancer often has a very important role to play in composition and in the formal recording of a piece of music. A few years ago, when I was in Orissa, I watched a dancer friend dress up to go to a studio for an audio recording of a newly composed piece. When she returned well past midnight, she looked washed out though the musicians themselves seemed to be in higher spirits. She later explained to me that she had to dance for each of the multiple takes during the day-long recording because the musicians took their cues by looking at her. Kumkum confirmed that this was a common practice.
Kumkum: Guruji always wanted someone to keep showing him the movement as they recorded. So someone always danced during the recording.
She makes a mistake and stop. She is not sure of a movement and asks Guruji. Guruji explains that Krishna has not come yet; Radha just sits despondently and waits for him.
Kumkum:
vihita vilambe?
Manjul (in Hindi): It's not in the middle, not here.
Kumkum (in Hindi): There's no alap here?
Bhubaneswar Mishra (in Hindi): Not here, not here.
Kumkum: We recorded five tracks with a music company in Japan. My students paid for the recording and the finished product was sold under the company's name. But we didn't know that then - only later did we get an idea of how widely they sold the music - a relative in Europe told me he had spotted a CD of Odissi music with my photograph on the cover. They even had a little booklet accompanying the CD. Much later, a Japanese girl who came to Guruji's house gave me a copy of the CD.
One of my students, Minako, was quite persistent and determined to learn this song. She came to study with me in India twice, made a video recording and practised on her own when she was back.
Kumkum asks for an extension of some part of the alap (wordless stretching of the sound of a vowel) so that she can complete her movements properly. The musicians note the increase in the length of the alap. They start singing and playing again.
Kumkum asks for even more alap. She explains her dance - she will get up and look around, then look sad and continue standing. She will sit down for the next line.
Then she dances and realises that one of the lines needs to be held for still longer and requests Manjul to make the change, interrupting her only after she has sung the entire line. She explains that she has to take an entire circle and sit down in limited time.
Kumkum: Normally the music is composed and the dance is set to it; here the opposite is happening.
Kumkum: The first stanza establishes the level of Radha's anguish. It talks of the different kinds of lamenting and wailing that Radha resorts to in the absence of Krishna.
Ranjana: As this serious portrayal of Radha's anguish is executed, Kumkum stays in her apron, probably shuffling between the kitchen and the stage-beside-the-dining-table. Back home in Bombay, as I annotate this, my recording of our conversation is an amusing mix of thoughts about this video punctuated by the visit of an electrician, her conversations with the cook and her nephew, and the duty of placating her overexcited pet dog. Evidently, the capacity to multi-task remains!
Kumkum asks Guruji to keep the tala/ give 'theka' as she dances. He starts enunciating the tala. Guruji stops wjhen the violin plays and says that they should either play the other instruments or go over the theka.
Kumkum: When Guruji first came to theatre, he came as a percussionist. Pankaj Babu was the dance master. Sometimes Pankaj Babu would leave him in charge of the rehearsals. When they saw that he could dance too, he began acting small roles and slipped into the acting side of the theatre gradually, playing parts in Dasavatara and other Annapurna productions.
Break in recording.
Manjul is singing. Kumkum actually looks out of the window as she plays Radha looking for Krishna.
She gestures to Manjul to signify how long she needs the alap to be. Guruji sits up straighter. He sings a portion to show her how slowly she must take it.
Kumkum stops Manjul when she feels the alap is becoming too long.
Guruji asks Bhubaneswar Mishra to play a specific set of notes.
Kumkum: Originally the recording I spoke about was only a cassette, later it was converted to a CD. It has Vasant Pallavi, Dasavatara, Mohana Pallavi, Yahi Madhava - the longer version and Yamihe. It's a beautiful recording. Made by the Japan Victor Company...
Kumkum asks them to sing the composition slower than the pace they have picked. She looks a little sheepish now, having asked them to quicken their pace often.
There is a lot of muttered conversation. Guruji asks Manjul to start singing from the beginning again.
TV_KM_6
Kumkum: Guruji was like a fount of creativity. He was very fond of music. His father thought he had musical potential; that is why he sent him to a rasalila group. Rasalila groups are made up of a lot of young boys. It has a strong bhakti essence. Rasalila can be found all over India. Nobody can sit higher than the performers because they are considered divine. In my home, before every marriage, we have one rasalila performance, in the name of god.
Now everything is becoming commercial. There is this thing called 'nitya rasa', which is genuinely bhakti. Otherwise rasalilas have also become multipurpose events with lots of dancing by men and women. In Vrindavan also, it has changed a lot. I remember; once, Sangeet Natak Akademi was doing a recording of a rasalila group in my father's house. They set up a stage in the garden and we were listening to them. The dhobi was sitting at the back and he began smoking a beedi as he listened to them. They stopped the performance, because they wouldn't let anyone smoke while they were singing. It was like a kirtan or puja, quite divine. So Guruji was sent to such a rasalila group in Puri. It was run by Mohansundar Goswami. He lived with him for twelve years and learnt 'bhava' from him. He also used to play the pakhawaj there. Those days, no girls danced. These troupes were entirely made up of young boys.
It is now half past ten.
Transcript:
Yami he! kam iha saranam
(sakhi)-jana-vacana-vancita
Translation:
To whom should I turn for shelter now?
All my friends have gone back on their promises
Bhubaneswar Mishra and Guruji keep the tala.
Transcript:
Kathita-samaye 'pi harir ahaha na yayau vanam
mama viphalam idam amalam rupam-api yauvanam
Yami he! kam iha saranam
(sakhi)-jana-vacana-vancita
Translation:
Hari has not come at the designated time,
my youth and beauty are rendered useless by this neglect.
To whom should I turn for shelter now?
when all my friends have gone back on their promises
The camera shows a glass of water and Guruji's tin of paan masala lying on the floor. Near the tin are his spectacles.
Transcript:
Yad-anugamanaya-nishi gahanam api shilitam
tena mama hrdayam idam asamasara-kilitam
Yami he...
Translation:
Alas! That very person, in whose pursuit I entered this wild forest on a dark night, facing great dangers along the way, is piercing my heart with the arrows of sensuality.
To whom may I turn for shelter now?
Transcript:
Mam-ahaha vidhurayati madhura-madhu-yamini
kapi-harim anubhavati krta-sukrta-kamini
Yami he...
Translation:
How unfortunate I am to be alone on this rasa-laden spring night, unsteady with the pain of loneliness and abandonment, lamenting my separation.
Simultaneously, some other fortunate young damsel must be in Krishna's arms, playfully making love to him.
To whom may I turn for shelter now?
It is almost 11 pm. Bhubaneswar Mishra and Guruji are teaching Manjul to sing 'braja ku chora'. Kumkum is in the kitchen; she is seen putting something back into the fridge and taking something else out. From the tray with mugs, it is evident that everybody has had some tea or milk.
Oriya abhinaya
Ranjana: What is that in those cups? Soup or tea?
Kumkum: I'm not sure. It must be soup.
There was a time when Guruji used to take something called 'lal chai', with bay leaves and all that. In that preparation, there was a dash of salt.
Ranjana: Otherwise, he loved sugar, and in indiscriminate quantities! He was fond of mixing sugar into his dal (lentils) at lunchtime.
TV_KM_7
Guruji is keeping the beat by saying the theka aloud. He begins tapping a spoon on some tinkly surface in time with the song.
Transcript:
Braja ku chora asichi gheni jibo,
suatuni hoi re!
Translation:
The thief who has come to Braja will take you away
Now, sleep quietly, will you?
Transcript:
Rankara dhana mo gokula chandrama
nishi pahi nahi re...
Translation:
You are the light of our lives,
O moon of Gokul, the night has not passed yet, dawn is yet to come.
Bhubaneswar Mishra stops Manjul to correct the way she sings the line.
Guruji starts enacting the dance from his position on the floor. He sneezes loudly and his hands stop in mid-air for a few seconds, but he continues again.
Transcript:
Rankara dhana mo gokula chandrama
Translation:
You are the light of our lives, O moon of Gokul
Transcript:
Rankara dhana mo gokula chandrama
Translation:
You are the light of our lives, O moon of Gokul
Guruji makes Manjul repeat the line.
Transcript:
Rankara dhana mo gokula chandrama
Translation:
You are the light of our lives, O moon of Gokul
He asks for a slight change in the way the last repetition is sung. He is enacting the dance as Manjul sings because he is unsure of the number of repetitions needed.
Kumkum: The wealth of the poor, the moon of Gokula. What images of mother and child he creates in this song!
Bhubaneswar Mishra asks Manjul to return to the original tune as the stanza ends.
Transcript:
nishi pahi nahi re
Translation:
the night has not passed yet, dawn is yet to come
Manjul must repeat 'nishi pahi' several times to get the tune right.
It turns out that what they were drinking is neither tea or milk. Guruji fixes his gaze on a point slightly above the camera; he beckons Ashok, who is behind the camera, asking him to drink his soup. Probably having received a negative response, he says the soup has turned cold. This done, his attention slowly returns to the song and he beats out the theka by clapping his hands. He asks Bhubaneswar Mishra to execute a specific pattern, letting the melody reach a high point before falling down again. Guruji is quite sure of what he wants, working out the rhythm and an approximate tune in his head before asking the musicians to replicate it.
Manjul is singing.
Transcript:
Braja ku chora asichi gheni jibo
suatuni hoi re!
Translation:
The thief who has come to Braja will take you away
Now, sleep quietly, will you?
They go over the tune that has just been discussed and move to a part of the song where there is no singing.
Kumkum: Manjul knew Bengali, so for her it was not so difficult to pick up Oriya pronunciation. She lived in Hazaribagh for a period of time.
Kumkum: Bhubaneswar Mishra did not attain the same prominence though he had done so much for the form. The only thing is - during Pradakshina (2001), when we honoured Guruji, we gave a purse to his wife.
Ranjana: In 2006, at the IPAP-organised Odissi International Festival in Bhubaneswar, it was reported that his wife was living in poverty. There were talks of collecting funds to pay for her upkeep.
Bhubaneswar Mishra asks Guruji a question. The latter replies using the formal Oriya term 'aagya', a word used by the listener to respond to a question or statement. It roughly translates as 'yes' or 'okay'. They spend a minute working on the note pattern, which Mishra finetunes by playing the same set of notes over and over again till Guruji is satisfied with the changes they incorporate.
Guruji speaks with Mishra in Oriya, asking Manjul to sing the last line of the previous stanza so that they can connect the new piece of music to the song. They settle on the fifth line of the song.
Transcript:
Rankara dhana mo gokula chandrama
Translation:
You are the light of our lives, O moon of Gokul
Bhubaneswar Mishra starts playing the next part of the song. Guruji suggests another change. He tries to incorporate it. Guruji begins thinking of its connection to the next part of the song. Sudarshan interjects, saying something in Oriya.
Transcript:
nishi pahi nahi re
Translation:
the night has not passed yet, dawn is yet to come
Transcript:
Braja ku chora asichi gheni jibo
suatuni hoi re!
Translation:
The thief who has come to Braja will take you away
Now, sleep quietly, will you?
The piece using only the violin and flute proceeds without a break. Manjul is caught unawares when it is time for her to begin singing the next paragraph. Guruji prompts her.
Ashok emerges from the direction of the kitchen and sits down behind Guruji. Bhubaneswar Mishra asks Manjul if she is having trouble with the song. She says she cannot recall the tune. Mishra plays the last few bars of violin music again, marking out the tala distinctly so that Manjul can commence singing at the right time.
She hums softly as Guruji sings along. Guruji turns to talk to Ashok even as he keeps the beat by using a spoon and another object.
Transcript:
Rati gota jaka mati lu nata re
palaka na pakai re
Translation:
You have played your pranks all night,
you don't even stop to rest your tired eyes!
Kumkum: If Kumkum (Mohanty) learnt it in 1984, this must have been her music. Then the dance must have been sorted out here...
The instrumental piece again becomes the focus of attention. He asks for further refinements in the tune being rehearsed.
Guruji asks Manjul for the rough recording of the song (which he must have carried from Orissa). Ashok produces a Walkman with earphones and assists Guruji in locating that part of the song.
The Walkman doesn't work and Ashok takes it from Guruji saying it has to be charged. He asks if the tape can be played on the music system. Guruji carefully winds the earphone wires before setting them down. Kumkum appears in the background. She picks up something from a bowl on the dining table and puts it into her mouth.
Manjul runs her palm over her brow; she is tired. Guruji starts and stops the tape. Ashok rewinds it again. They check where the song has reached and Ashok is asked to go back again.
They reach the instrumental portion and begin to listen keenly.
Ranjana: What were people's reactions to the camera?
Kumkum: They were too absorbed with their work to notice.
Ashok: Guruji was on top of every medium. He loved gadgets.
Ranjana: I have read accounts of how Guruji used to 'edit' audiotapes by using a pair of scissors and some adhesive to cut and patch up a piece of music.
Kumkum: Anyway, when we shot all this, it was just because we had a video camera. It was a new thing. Recording it for posterity was not our intention then.
Ashok: It was Guruji's great dream to have a video camera. He was simply beaming away when he finally purchased one during this trip to Japan.
Kumkum: We must show Manjul this...
Ashok gets up and lowers the volume before leaving the room.
Guruji rolls over and pauses the tape. Bhubaneswar Mishra plays the tune on his violin, picking up from where the tape has stopped. Beginning to sing, Manjul joins in. Guruji taps out the rhythm with a spoon.
Kumkum places something on the table.
Manjul stumbles over an Oriya word - 'grama nishabada'. Guruji helps her get it right, singing it repeatedly.
Manjul stops mid-song to ask about the number of repetitions.
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