When Away: Natanakairali

Well, somehow everything seems to have worked out. Honestly I’m not sure how. We left Mumbai with the name of a town, a school, and a teacher. No address, no appointment, no confirmation they were expecting me, would accept me or have room for me, even that they would have classes available. But we went for it. We found the guesthouse (a simple government-run hotel) that we’d been told would be near the school and checked in. When asked how long we’d stay: “mmm…maybe a night, maybe… a month. We don’t know.” We found our room, sparse but clean, dropped our things and set out to find this “school” which from the guest house was “straight then left at the house, red house.” We passed it. Now it was “back, go right, right” this road? Is this house red? That one has a red roof…this one a red gate…Try here. All neighborhood streets full of brightly colored houses. Then a pavilion. For performance? Could this be it?! No, it’s completely empty, but an encouraging sign nonetheless. We keep going. Only because I happen to glance down a dirt driveway and see a rusty sign saying “NATANAKAIRALI” do we finally wander into the right yard. On the small porch sits a rotund man looking very distinguished in his doti (a long white wrap skirt worn by men here-more on that later) long beads, dark skin and short, shockingly white hair. This is Venuji. We introduce ourselves, “ah yes” he had received an email “sit.” I am on edge. He asks about my background and what I want to do here. All I know is I want to study whatever they will teach me, but the specifics of what forms of dance or theater- I haven’t the slightest clue. I am suddenly ashamed of my ignorance, of my daring to come knowing nothing. He listens, slowly shaking his head, eyes closed as if relishing the mobility in his neck. But I’d been warned- in the south this is a nod, he is nodding. Good. There are many long silences. We are told there is a performance that night at the temple. And come back tomorrow. Around noon.
Noon the next day I am armed with some actual questions: are there classes being taught? What kind? How often? Unfortunately specific questions do not beget specific answers. Slowly I understand there are no set classes, if they take me he will find a tutor for me in Kuttiyattam- the theater form of which he is a master- he himself will not teach me until I have learned some basics. They do not take just anybody, usually no foreigners he says, but… because of my background they will take me. Somehow, I am still scared. But I am to watch a class and decide if I want to study here. When? Tomorrow. What time? “Tomoe!!!!” A Japanese woman, maybe in her 30s, runs down from an outside staircase. They negotiate a class time. 10:30. He tells me that when he calls her, she has 5minutes to be ready for class. Tomorrow I can come and watch. I am there at 10:30, class starts not quite on time but nobody minds. She is an advanced student, has been coming for years to study here and is now rehearsing a solo performance to be performed this month. If Venuji hadn’t narrated, I would not have understood a word of her gestures and facial expressions, which I would later learn are mudras and abhinayas, but I was fascinated. Yes, I want to study this. But class ends unexpectedly when a visitor turns up and the small assembly disintegrates. He pays no attention to our departure. I will be back at 4 to see a dance class. The dance is Mohiniyattam, taught by Venuji’s wife Nirmala. 3 or 4 young girls show up for class in the dark performance studio with a roof of thatched palm-leaves. Nirmala beats the time with a stick (or you might call it a club). Half an hour later the class has tripled in size. She does not seem to reprimand the trickling-in but there is certainly no messing around. It is ballet class Indian style. Very disciplined, very exact, to make perfect, smiling dancers. But yes, I will study this too. I have to track her down after class. Yes, I will study. Ok, I can come to class with the girls. She finds Venuji. Yes, I want to study Kuttiyattam. Ok, he will see if there is anyone who can give me classes. I am disappointed to find there is no room for me to stay in the guest rooms on the compound, but we negotiate for us to have our meals there, which is a relief. And Ariel can work for Venuji in exchange for which he can eat for free and learn all there is to know about Kuttiyattam (as he will demonstrate below). Still feeling very much like an outsider but assured of our place at the school, we go home to rest. Next day, classes begin.

With Emma set on staying at Natanakairali I decided that I should head for the hills where I could work on an organic farm. Though I really wasn’t ready to depart and the trip had just begun so I decided to ask the director whether he knew of any farms or other work in the area. Well it turns out that he has a great respect for the farming lifestyle (he tends his large garden every morning for one hour after watching the sunrise (a prescribed treatment for his health)). But, the work he had in mind wasn’t farming; it was research. He wants to fulfill his vision of creating an artist’s retreat replete with rooms, performance spaces, an ayurvedic garden, and massage quarters. So, he took me on to start the proposal and in exchange I got free meals, daily yoga lessons, and an opportunity to learn about Kerala theatre. I’ve also been editing English translations of the mythic plays that are performed which I add to my collection of stories.

Now, I know a lot about Natanakairali after having to research and write about it. I’ve come to admire Kutiyattam, a Sanskrit theatre that Natanakairali rescued from becoming extinct. Kutiyattam is one of the world’s oldest continuous theatre traditions (over 2,000 years). At first, performances were hard to follow because the story is conveyed through physical gestures that are extremely abstract and codified. It’s more like sign language. But once you see enough it becomes more interesting. Emotions in Kutiyattam are mostly conveyed through the eyes and facial expressions (abhinayas) while the description of the action comes from the hand gestures (mudras). It is the connection between the mudras and the abhinayas that creates the story. Even the dress is codified. Each color of the actors’ make-up represents a different emotion and depending on the combinations of different colors the director can create different characters. The costume is also used to tell the story. For example if the performer takes his scarf off and wraps it around his neck then that signifies a flashback. The guidelines of how all this should be performed is found in the Natyashastra (sp?), an ancient Sanskrit encyclopedia on theatre.

Tomorrow I'll be leaving Natanakairali and I'll let you know where I end up (either farming or learning hindi) in the next week or so.

Classes
I’ve been taking classes now for about a week and though my body feels better adjusted now to the heat, it is still adjusting to all the new movement. Mohiniyattam it turns out, is practiced almost entirely in an eternal plie (knees bent- the first word I’ve learned in the local language Malayalam is “lower!”). Everything is bends and curves and smiles. As I am a total novice, Nirmala sometimes sends me off with one of the students (a sweet 12 year old, very sure of herself) to practice. One minute I am too stiff (imagine!) and the next too flowy. The hands like this, no like this, finally she pushes and molds my hands to the right position as I stand wondering if I’ll ever be able to replicate the position on my own. But slowly slowly I am learning the steps and stance. I have learned the 24 basic mudras (along with their Sanskrit titles) and most of one of the folk dances related to the more classical Mohiniyattam.
In Kuttiyattam class, I am taught by a young disciple whose every move is electric. We’ve seen him perform twice now and he is truly truly stunning. So his demonstrations have my complete attention. Of course to my dismay at the start of the first class he says “we begin…like this” and demonstrates a deep plie. I assume the position. “Now stay” I hold it for what seems like ages as the flies land on my crossed arms and gnats catch in my eyes, I wonder what he is waiting for. Do I stay until it hurts? No, that point has passed. Until I shake? Already happening. Until the bugs eat my eyes out? “ok” he says with an almost indiscernible chuckle, “enough.” I have decided it must have been a test of character because he hasn’t had me do it again since. Thank goodness.
Next are eye exercises left to right in an arc, in a straight line, up to heaven, down into the depths, quickly between floor and ceiling being sure to keep the eyebrows and eyelids always lifted, then circles, and diagonals. I never thought my eye sockets could be sore. Then eyebrows up and down, up and down, bottom eyelids up and down up and down without squinting from the top, spread the lips into an unnaturally wide smile, squish the whole face into the center. Everything is repeated ad infinitum or until he says “ok, relax.” I have yet to figure out what determines when I can stop. Infinite repetition as the teacher gets distracted by bugs or whatnot seems to be a common theme in both classes. After all the up and downs and back and forths, I begin to learn the Kuttiyattam mudras. But this is theater, as opposed to dance so instead of memorizing in an apparently random sequence, I am learning the mudras through a story. Each day I learn about half a sentence. So far I know that “Once upon a time, the sun dynasty existed. At that time existed many kings. They recited about a place (mudra=name of place) and one became famous…palace…house.” So…the grammar’s a little different, to say the least, and sometimes I have trouble making sense of the sentences, and most of the mudras have several meanings, but maybe tomorrow’s words will help make sense of today’s. Meanwhile, still no straight answers but the picture of a whole is beginning to come together and the place makes more sense to me each day.

Pictures

The first picture above is of a Kathakali performance at the temple in Irinjalakuda. The second picture above is of Emma's Kutiyattam teacher performing Kutiyattam at a Temple in Guruvayoor. This elephant (below) along with many others was at this temple.

We were invited to a German man's birthday party. He lived in this home below. Emma, Chi-Sa-T0 (another student from Japan) went and roamed around his property. He held a Kutiyattam performance. Afterwards he fed all eighty guests. Needless to say the house was amazing. It is a couple of hundred years old.

House