SERIES - 4

The Tanjore Quartet or Tañjāvūr Nālvar – Cinnayyā, Ponnayyā, Śivānandam & Vaḍivēlu carved a unique niche for themselves in Karṇāṭaka Saṅgīta & Bharatanāṭya. Trained by Śrī Muttusvāmi Dīkṣita himself, they served as Vidvān-s under rulers of Tanjore, Mysore and even under Mahārājā Svāti Tiru̱nāḷ in Travancore.

Śrī Vaḍivēlu of the 4 brothers, is noted to have had a deep influence on the dance compositions of the Mahārājā. Popularly addressed as Naṭṭuvan Vaḍivēlu, he led a troupe of Bharatanāṭya dancers and had an immense student following, very much like the other members of the Quartet. 

As Siva continued his monologue on the Quartet and their legacy, his mobile rang. He picked up to answer the call, when Skanda grabbed it from his hands, screaming into the phone.

“Amma, this trip is so much fun, I can’t tell you”.

A giggle came forth from the other end. “This is just a reminder call for lunch that I am giving you guys, lest you keep exploring art forms giving up on food and water.”

Siva let out a chuckle. “Your time check is so timely. Of course, that’s the next course of action madam.” Saying so, both of them departed back to their place of stay in an auto.

Skanda suddenly remembered. “Appā, the Mōhiniyāṭṭam performance at Śrī Padmanābhasvāmi temple begins at 6 pm right?” 

“Don’t worry, we will stick to time”. Siva responded. “You can rest in the meanwhile, if you want after lunch.”

“Rest? Appā, you better answer all my questions before we head home”, exclaimed Skanda, extending his hand towards Siva, who helped him get down from the vehicle.  

Once settled at the table, pat came a question. “Appā, is the name Mōhiniyāṭṭam derived from Mōhini, the female form of Lord Viṣṇu? Is this art form derived from how cleverly she charms Bhasmāsura, trapping him with his own boon?”

“Well, this theme is often explored by Mōhiniyāṭṭam dancers. Mōhiniyāṭṭam can better be translated as the dance of an enchantress. She dances making soft gestures with a very expressive face that captivates the audience”.

Skanda continued. “Expressive? So, like Kathakali?”

“Well, expressive like Kathakali, yes. But Mōhiniyāṭṭam is derived from many ancient folk-dance forms of Kerala, actively encouraged by both the Mahārājā & Śrī Vaḍivēlu after which it became quite well-known.”

“Appā, I have a few more doubts. But not before I read this small book on the Mahārājā you got me on the way”. Skanda got back to his book, leaving Siva to his thoughts.

In the olden days, Saṅgīta was a purposeful amalgamation of Gāna, Nṛtya & Vādya. The same has been maintained by Śārṅgadēva, the author of Saṅgīta Ratnākara, one of the definitive texts on Indian Classical music. The three aspects were considered to be interdependent – vocal music deriving support from instrumental music, lending a theme based on which a dancer exhibited expressions, making the performance look comprehensive.

This perspective brought in composers for music suited to dance, though not many in number. The reason being that such a composer would have to have a sharp grasp over rasa, sāhitya, a compelling theme to base the piece on and even expertise in quite a number of aesthetics that Classical dance is centred on. Mahārājā Svāti Tirunāḷ made his way into this list of composers in the able company of the great dance-master Vaḍivēlu - which enabled him to devise pieces for dance that were highly impactful, leading him to compose multiple Svarajati-s, Pada-s, Varṇa-s and Tillānā-s. 

Though the Mahārājā composed multiple pieces on other deities, his family deity Padmanābha always stood out to him among everyone. He has explored varied moods of the love-lorn Nāyikā yearning to unite with Lord Padmanābha in his Sṛṅgāra Varṇa-s laced with sāhitya exuding her deepest feelings for the charming Lord. 

Thinking so, Siva stretched his hands slightly glancing over at the time. “Skanda, come on. We need to leave” – no later than he said this, the little boy’s face lit up, ready to roll. 

About less than an hour into the performance, the artiste began performing on one of the most popular varṇa-s composed by the Mahārājā – Sumasāyaka in Karṇāṭaka Kāpi. The longing of a Vāsakasajjā (A dressed up heroine waiting to meet her lover) Nāyikā is conveyed by her Sakhi to Lord Kṛṣṇā, intending to change his mind and consider meeting the Nāyikā. 

The artiste goes on to depict how much pain the Nāyikā is undergoing on being separated from the Lord. In what seems like a happy moment when she sights the full moon and rejoices - suddenly, an image of her beloved Lord begins to form in this very moon to her imagination. This causes her joy to transform into distress. In hesitation, she glances at the moon again and when the same image haunts her, she turns away strongly, opposed to looking back at the moon.

The pain of being away from Lord Kṛṣṇā is such that she sees him in every object that brings her joy. As the vocalist sang the lines “Māninī Hā Tē Tāpam” prompting the dancer to grieve through her fluid-like movements, Siva couldn’t help but wonder that maybe the Nāyikā mirrored the feelings of the Mahārājā towards Lord Padmanābha, desperate to unite with the divine.