He made waves with children

Source - http://www.hindu.com/fr/2008/11/14/stories/2008111451260400.htm

He made waves with children

SUGANTHY KRISHNAMACHARI

Koothapiran struck instant rapport with the young participants, who called him Vanoli Anna.

Children are unpredictable, and this provided the humour quotient.

CHILDREN’S COMRADE: Koothapiran. (Right) Vignettes from his album. The last picture shows Mandolin Shrinivas and Arun Prakash performing for Paappa Malar.

“My father, Vittal Iyer, was a mridangam vidwan at Kalakshetra. I therefore had the good fortune of listening to the arangetram of Mysore Vasudevachar’s compositions at Kalakshetra. As soon as a kriti was ready, MDR, Mani Perundevi (Mani Krishnaswamy) or D. Pasupathi would sing it,” says Natarajan. Attending programmes at Kalakshetra gave Natarajan a taste for the fine arts, early on. While his brother learnt Bharatanatyam, Natarajan was attracted to the stage. He would walk all the way from Adyar to Teynampet Congress Grounds to watch plays staged by Nawab Rajamanickam Pillai and T.K.S. Brothers. “A ticket cost only twenty five paise in those days,” he says. “Even a balcony ticket in R.R. Sabha cost only 50 paise.”

Having decided to have a shot at writing plays, Natarajan gave himself a pseudonym. “What better pseudonym than Koothapiran, the Tamil equivalent of Natarajan?” he asks. Although he started out as a writer, Koothapiran later began to act too. He trained under actor/director Paul Storm at Kalakshetra. Today, Koothapiran’s whole family is involved with the stage one way or the other.

The stage brought him into contact with writers such as Sujatha, Savi, Marina, Bhagirathan, Akhilan and with Poornam Viswanathan.

The stage also got him his job. All India Radio was looking for good voices. No formal qualifications were needed, said the advertisement. So Koothapiran, who had learnt voice modulation on the stage, attended the interview, and was selected. He was asked how quickly he could translate from English to Tamil. Koothapiran admitted that he did not know English, but was willing to learn. How long did it take him to learn English? “At first it took me 20 minutes to translate a weather bulletin. Later on, I just translated live, as I read the news!”

But Koothapiran is more famous for the children’s programmes he produced. How did he get involved in these programmes?

“I had always wanted to involve children in theatre. So I started a club for children called Adyar Siruvar Sangam. My first play for these kids was ‘Amma Sol Amritam,’ which they enacted in 1955 at the Kuzhandaigal Nataka Vizha, inaugurated by Rajaji. Our play was adjudged the best. Incidentally, the club still functions and is managed by my brother.”

“I joined AIR to assist in children’s programmes, besides announcing other programmes. AIR had four programmes for children — Siruvar Solai, Paappa Malar, Muthukuvial, and Mazhalai Amudam. The guidance of Ayyasamy, who was in charge of these programmes was invaluable. Of course, my stage experience also helped,” Koothapiran adds.

Paappa Malar

But wasn’t Paappa Malar the most popular? “Yes. That’s because it was broadcast at a convenient time — 2.10 p.m. on Sunday.” And it was Paappa Malar, whose signature song was sung by K. Jayashree, that made Koothapiran famous as Vanoli Anna.

“In those days even children’s programmes were live. Only towards the end of my tenure did we begin to have recorded programmes.” Children are unpredictable, and from Koothapiran’s recollections it is obvious that this added to the humour quotient in Paappa Malar. He tells of a girl who, during the rehearsals, did a song routine. But when the programme went on air, she changed her mind and said she would tell a story instead. “Once upon a time there was a king. He died,” she said. Koothapiran asked her to continue with the story. “How can I continue, now that the king is dead?” she retorted!

There were touching moments too. Koothapiran toured many villages so that children there could participate in Paappa Malar. On one such visit, a boy came for the rehearsal in a striped shirt. A little later another boy, who looked a lot like the first, came in the same shirt. “Now look here. You were here awhile ago. I recognise that shirt. You can’t have two chances,” Koothapiran said sternly. The boy replied, “The boy who came earlier is my brother. I too want to be in Paappa Malar. But we only have one shirt between us. So once he finished, he passed it on to me.” Azha Valliappa said in an interview, that it was Koothapiran who had written the maximum number of plays for children.

Children could send in their date of birth to Vanoli Anna, and he would greet them on their birthdays. “Even now, people in their fifties, who took part in Paappa Malar programmes, address me as Vanoli Anna,” Koothapiran beams. Koothapiran auditioned Sudha Raghunathan, Mandolin Shrinivas, Embar Kannan, S.P. Ramh, Arun Prakash, when they were child artists.

Unforgettable moments in All India Radio? “Many, but to me it is most significant that the very first announcement I made was for an Ariyakkudi concert, and my last was for a KVN concert,” signs off Koothapiran.

Poornam Vishwanathan

source

In love with grease paint

SUGANTHY KRISHNAMACHARI

A stickler for perfection, Poornam Viswanathan’s passion for the stage never diminished.

MANY DIMENSIONS: Poornam Viswanathan.

A profile on Poornam Viswanathan (his 88th birthday falls on November 15) presents a difficulty. Where does one begin? Should one begin with Poornam as a newsreader of All India Radio, announcing India’s Independence? Or should one begin with Poornam as a writer? As an actor? As a director of plays? Or look at him as a human being, simple and unassuming, who preferred to travel by public transport? It should be mentioned here that he always insisted that all members of the troupe be provided the same kind of accommodation?

Perhaps Poornam, the romantic, will be apt. Poornam Viswanathan’s was a traditional, arranged marriage, and when he returned to Delhi after ‘seeing’ the girl, he sent her a telegram that said, “Returned safe, and dreaming.” In 1950, this certainly qualified to be called romantic!

While in Delhi, Poornam acted in the plays of South Indian Theatre. One of the members was music critic Subbudu. They staged many plays including Kalki’s ‘Kalvanin Kadhali’ and Devan’s ‘Gomathiyin Kadhalan.’ When Poornam was transferred to Madras in 1964, he began to act in the plays of Triplicane Fine Arts and later in those of Kala Nilayam. One of the most popular plays he acted in was Savi’s ‘Washingtonil Thirumanam.’ While in Delhi, Poornam had translated Ramesh Mehta’s Hindi play, ‘Under Secretary,’ and YGP’s UAA staged it with Jayalalitha, her mother Sandhya and Cho in the cast.

At Kala Nilayam, Poornam acted in Marina’s plays — ‘Oor Vambu,’ ‘Thani Kudithanam’ and ‘Kaal Kattu,’ and Sujatha’s ‘Oru Kolai Oru Prayaanam’ and ‘Kadavul Vandirundaar.’ Koothapiran, who played the role of Koda Naidu in Thani Kudithanam, says, “I learnt how to act only by watching Poornam.”

Forming a troupe

Scenes from Oru Kolai Oru Prayanam and Oor Vambu.

In 1979, Poornam left Kala Nilayam and started his own troupe ‘Poornam New Theater.’ Ever on the look out for fresh talent, he welcomed into his fold many youngsters.

The first play they did was Sujatha’s ‘Adimaigal.’ It was a dicey theme about a lecherous patriarch, who tyrannises his nephews. But Sujatha and Poornam handled the subject adroitly, so that there was not a trace of vulgarity in the presentation.

Baldev, who acted with Poornam in Kala Nilayam and had left when Poornam did, played the role of Sundaram, the wronged, cowardly nephew. Venu Arvind, whose real name is Tyagarajan, made his debut in this play. ‘Adimaigal’ marked the beginning of a long association between Poornam and Sujatha, who wrote a succession of plays for Poornam.

Actor Sivakumar says, “I was moved by the play Oonjal. And ‘Dr. Narendranin Vinodha Vazahakku’ was amazing.” Dr. Narendranin Vinodha Vazhakku was staged 175 times. When this writer met Sujatha a couple of years before his death, he said, “I will continue to write plays, if Poornam is willing to act.”

Poornam, was a hard taskmaster, but never failed to compliment talent. He admired troupe member Gowrishankar’s hand gestures. Poornam paid attention to every detail, so that there was never a jarring note or incongruity in any play. “He didn’t like an orchestra in the pit, and would only play taped music,” says M.B. Moorthy. “For Adimaigal, the only music he used was the veena playing of Gayatri,” says Baldev.

Poornam also had definite ideas about make-up. “For the role of Dr. Narendran, he wanted to be made up to resemble Dr. Schweitzer,” says Poornam’s daughter Uma.

Poornam would wince at the slightest mispronunciation, and during rehearsals for the play “Fifty-Fifty,” Viswanathan Ramesh had to say his lines over and over, because he seemed incapable of getting the ‘zha’ right. On the day of the show, his pronunciation was perfect.

Sense of humour

Poornam could always see the humour in a situation. Once during the staging of “Anbulla Appa,” troupe member Malathi Sampath was in the audience with her three year old niece. Poornam had just done an emotional scene, and with his hands on his cheeks, struck a note of despair with his words, “Enna Pannuvaen?” The little girl, who had been quiet until then, walked up to the aisle, put her hands on her cheeks, and in close imitation of Poornam, repeated his words! The audience burst out laughing. Malathi made a hasty exit, niece in tow. At the end of the show, she approached Poornam with an apology, but he said, “I hope this little Poornam will act in my plays, when she grows up.”

“Poornam did many one-act plays, one of which ‘Vandavan’ was enacted on the terrace in Sankara Netralaya,” recalls Baldev.

Poornam last acted in 2000, before passing on the mantle to Gurukulam, a troupe that consists of those he trained. However, he could never bring himself to say that he would no longer act in plays. Wife Susheela, who has seen every single show of Poornam’s, recalls how a few months before his death, he said to his relatives, “I’ll be doing a play soon.” That is perhaps why Susheela wanted make-up to be applied on his face as he made his last journey from home. And that was how Poornam left, with pancake on his face, in death, as in life.