A mathematician’s passion

A mathematician’s passion

SUGANTHY KRISHNAMACHARI

Of Valavan Kumaran, author of ‘Lakshman’s Dream.’

I find that every drama troupe here has a format, a formula. I didn’t want to be strait-jacketed. I wanted to give free rein to my imagination.

Versatile: Valavan Kumaran

Valavan Kumaran loves all classical arts of India. In fact he listens to Carnatic music, when he wants to think of how to go about his next play. “It helps me to shut out distractions and concentrate on my play,” he says.

A French citizen, he left India at the age of 14, and finished his schooling and his University education in France. In 1997, he started his own theatre group in France, and travelled from village to village staging plays. In 2001, he joined the Theatre du Soleil, where he acted in two plays directed by Ariane Mushkin.

Kumaran has a Ph.D in Non-Commutative Geometry from Marseilles University, and he taught there for four years, before he took to full time theatre.

Mathematics and theatre – what’s the connection? “Both are beautiful,” says Kumaran.

Agreed, but Maths has a different kind of beauty. Austere beauty, without the trappings of painting or music, was how Russell saw mathematics. Why did Kumaran prefer the beauty of theatre to the cold and austere beauty of Mathematics? “Even as a child, I wanted to be a theatre person,” he says.

Then why didn’t he join a theatre group early on? “I find that every drama troupe here has a format, a formula. I didn’t want to be strait-jacketed. I wanted to give free rein to my imagination. That didn’t seem possible in any of the theatre groups in Tamil Nadu.”

In a conversation that ranges from Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle and the work of mathematician Alain Connes to Peter Brooks’ plays, Kumaran’s passion for a lot of things is evident. But it is theatre that has a special place in his heart.

Is he happy with the theatre scene in Tamil Nadu today? “ No,” he says. “There is no patronage from the Government. If we have to hire the Museum Theatre for an evening, we have to pay 25,000 rupees. Moreover, here audiences seem to be committed to certain languages. Some will only go to English plays, some only to Tamil plays. Not much importance is given to directing here. I find Indian classical arts moving, but I don’t like drama in Tamil Nadu, whether in English or Tamil.”

Kumaran laments the lack of theatre training in Tamil Nadu. “People think that it is only music and dance that need training, and they assume anyone can act, without training.”

How did he get interested in koothu? Kumaran staged his play “Midnight Traveller,” at the drama festival in Purisai.

“I was not sure of its reception in Purisai. The story is about a young man who dons the role of a woman in a village play. He is mocked and ostracised, and he leaves the village. He travels through India, and meets many women, each of whom touches his heart, and each of whom speaks a different language.” The play had seven languages in it — Hindi, Gujarati, Telugu, Khasi, English, French and Tamil. To his surprise and delight, the villagers liked the play.

His troupe attended a workshop on koothu in Purisai. Later, he met Purisai Sambandam, and was impressed by his method of transmitting the art of theru-k-koothu. It reminded him of his experiences at the Theatre du Soleil, and an idea for a play began to take shape in his mind.

Cheap gimmicks

“Not all performers of koothu stick to tradition. Some of them resort to cheap gimmicks for the sake of popularity. So I wanted to show the dangers to the tradition of koothu, through my play “Lakshman’s dream.’”

What are the gimmicks he is talking about?

“ I’ve actually heard some village artistes use double meaning dialogue.”

Double entendres? “No, ‘double entendres’ as you use it , is not correct French. That is an Anglicised usage. The correct French expression would be ‘double sens,’” he corrects. “ Anyway, to continue, it’s not just vulgarity, it’s the very tampering with the tradition of an art that I disapprove of.”

There are also innovations in Carnatic music and Bharatanatyam, that many frown upon. He might just as well have done a play on any art form. “That’s true. For instance in music and dance, I don’t like fusion. The marrying together of two different art forms is abhorrent to me,” Kumaran shudders.

Kumaran has made Chennai his home. Future projects? Dreams? “I want to do a play based on the Rig Veda. I want to learn Sanskrit and Bharatanatyam. I’m deeply interested in our religious literature and our mythological stories. The Bhagavad Gita offers invaluable lessons on coping with the ups and downs of life.”

Kumaran speaks French, Tamil and English, and that’s the order of his competence in the three languages too, he laughs.

Printer friendly page
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail

On the horns of an artistic dilemma

Source

On the horns of an artistic dilemma

SUGANTHY KRISHNAMACHARI

Koothu To pursue or not to pursue… is the theme of Purisai Sambandam’s new production.

Photos: S.S. Kumar

Delightful: Lakshman’s Dream being visualised.

The scene is a koothu school, where one of the pupils has decided to quit, because he sees no future in Koothu.

His friends persuade him to remain, for they have a show coming up.

The teacher (Purisai Sambandam) shows them how to perform as monkeys in Rama’s army. But even as he rehearses for the show, the teacher dies. The grief-stricken students gather round him. The boy, who is to play the role of Lakshmana (Cordis Paldano), has a dream, in which he battles Yama, the God of Death, and finally vanquishes him.

Substitute the teacher for art, koothu to be specific, and the symbolism comes alive in “Lakshman’s Dream, But Today We Are Playing Indrajit,” at the Alliance Francaise on September 13 and 14. It was presented by Indianostrum Theatre in association with Purisai Duraisamy Kannappa Thambiran Parambarai Therukoothu Manram.

More a nightmare

Lakshman’s dream is therefore more in the nature of a nightmare. He manages to save his art in his dream. But is it as easy in real life?

The inroads that modern life has made into traditional/folk art are indeed deep. Can the onslaught be stopped through commitment alone? What can we do to preserve our arts from being overtaken? These are questions the play addresses and concedes that it is not easy to get the answers.

What happens when tradition is diluted and even distorted? How can people be sensitised to the purity of art? Shown when intrusions happen inflicting crudity on style? This is where a play like “Lakshman’s Dream” comes in. It shows the dangers of making a mockery of traditional art, in the desire for popularity. And holds out hope. It is a wake up call to those who are complacent in the belief that nothing can substantially affect an art, simply because it is centuries old.

Student’s questions

The questions that the disgruntled student asks in the beginning of the play are just the sort every student of an art, whether classical music or classical dance, is bound to ask himself at some point in his life. Will his art put food on the table? Can he completely ignore material considerations? Should he continue practising his art at all? And what happens if there is no audience appreciation?

Delightful: Lakshman’s Dream being visualised.

Cordis Paldano’s Tamil diction was perfect. None would ever guess that he can’t speak Tamil. Aswini Kasi and Gowri’s singing of the songs “Vandaal Dhaanyamalini” and “Mannar mannar vanangum” was peppy. Vasanth as the angry student and Kumar as Indrajith played their roles with aplomb. Munuswamy as Yama danced delightfully.

Catch ‘Lakshman’s Dream…’ at Kalakshetra, September 27, 10.30 a.m.