rmprabodhini.org

About Us

Chat

Message Board

Guestbook

Home

AREAS OF BRIGHTNESS / ART & CULTURE

GOD'S LITTLE DANCERS

OF ALL THE CHILDREN IN THE PICTURE-postcard village, the 12 are the naughtiest. Pint-sized dynamites, they run riot with their endless pranks; they storm fruit gardens and strip the trees bare; they sneak into kitchens and sweep them clean of the goodies; they chase cows out of the fields and roar into laughter when villagers run after them ...

Normally such pranks would bring swift retribution from villagers. But in Dimirisena, a palm tree-lined village near Bhubaneswar, the elders just put up with them. For the simple reason that the brats are "God's children".

Bizarre as it may seem, the 12 have been pledged by their parents to the reigning deity of the local Balunkeswara temple. When they were younger these children suffering from diarrhoea, dysentery or jaundice-had a close brush with death. Desperate, the parents had invoked divine blessings by making vows that they would press their sons into God's service if they survived. And oblivious to the repercussions their superstitious beliefs may have on the development of the children, had left them at the temple at ages as young as five or six.

It's quite painful as family ties are literally snapped-Sujit Pradhan, 14, remembers having gone to sleep weeping the day he was dropped off at the temple. For the next 10 years, the children lose their identity and rarely visit home.

Even if they do on occasion, they can never cat there and if the parents happen to die during the period, they cannot even perform the last rites.

For these 10 formative years, they live in a one-room tenement in the temple with little choice but to abide by tradition. A tradition that demands being a vegetarian and mastering the art of Gotipua - a form of dance performed by pony-tailed boys dressed up as girls to the beat of drums. Dushyam Jena, 9, who survived a bout of jaundice, was left at the temple when he was just five. Ever since, he has been a dancer meant to "entertain Lord Balunkeswara". He will continue to do so till his voice begins to crack and the first hint of a moustache appears. It's time then to leave the temple and resume normal life. Never mind how difficult the transition.

"It's a tradition as old as the 300-year-old history of Gotipua, the source of the now famous Odissi." explains Dhirendra Nath Patnaik, former secretary of the Orissa Sangeet Natak Academy. As Mughals invaded the region and women-devadasis in particular-found it insecure to dance in temples. So boys dressed as girls perpetuated the tradition of temple dance. Initially, the local zamindar hired boys from poor families for the Gotipua troupe. Soon the practice became a ritual with parents pledging their children for "favours granted".

Being a Gotipua and entertaining God is serious business. The rituals are clearly incomplete without them. During festivals like Sri Panchami and Dol Purnima, the Gotipuas enthral the crowds as also Balunkeswara with their lyrical dance. Decked in shimmering dresses, they invariably lead the divine cavalcade during the Chandan Jatra, the annual summer festival.

With little other than Gotipua to fall back on, many of the boys continue as dancers even after they leave the temple. Guru Gangadhar Pradhan, the famed Odissi guru who received the Sangeet Natak Academy Award two years ago, also started out as a gotipua. Hailing from a village close to Dimirisena, he had been pledged to the Lord after he survived an accident.

Pradhan is an exception. Most of the others who have stuck to the low-profile Gotipua receive little or no patronage. That however has not deterred the villagers from making promises to the temple that helps to keep the tradition alive. Laxmidhar Swain had been pledged by his parents when he was young. Now a father, he has also pressed his son, an epileptic, into God's service.

Despite the element of injustice in the tradition, there are no voices of dissent. Except perhaps that of Gulshan Palai, 7, who feels less blessed than the naughty dozen. Unlike them, he cannot get away with his pranks.

Source: India Today

CAPTURING THE SPIRIT OF HOLI

A prince and a princess stand together. Joy is in every line of their bodies. On either side waits a maid, with a syringe at the ready. Joy marks every part of their bodies too.

It could be a glimpse of a Holi scene staged the other day. But it goes back to the 16th century. It is a panel sculpted in a temple at Hampi, capital of Vijayanagar.

An Italian, Nicoli Moti, visited the kingdom. From what he wrote, we learn that Holi was an popular a festive occasion then as it is now. Colour, music, mirth - everything was there. Both the king and his people celebrated the festival.

In fact, the kings enjoyed themselves at the festival in other places too. A 16th century Ahmednagar painting is on the theme of Vasanta Ragini - spring song or music. It shows a royal couple sitting on a grand swing. Trees are in flower around. A music girl stands on one side, girls with pichkaris - colour syringes - on the other.

A Mewar painting (about 1755) shows the Maharana with his courtiers. While the ruler is bestowing gifts on some people, a merry dance is on. In the middle is a tank, filled with coloured water.

There are other Rajput paintings too which represent royal Holi revels. A Bundi miniature shows a king seated on a tusker, with other elephants on right and left. From a balcony above some ladies are showering gulal on him. Who ever heard of Holi without Krishna? Look at this 18th century Bundi painting. In it Krishna and Radha are in the middle. Gopis, with drums, veena and syringes stand on either side. At their feet the grass is lush and green. The sky is a clear blue, the blue of spring.

Some Kangra miniatures show more joyous Holi moments. In one of them Krishna is out with cowherd boys, and Radha with her playmates. There are jets of colour and clouds of gulal and round things that look like today's water-filled balloons. And, of course, drums and dancing.

In Mathura we see Holi are in a different medium. It is the old Sanjhi, which is like stencil. A scene is depicted on paper by cutting out tiny bits along the lines already drawn.

Krishna is a favourite motif. You may see him dancing on Kaliya's head or holding the Goverdhana hill on one finger. If he is not playing his flute, he is carrying a syringe.

Some artists float Sanjhi specimens on water in a basin or some such thing. Then they sprinkle tinted powders on the stencilled pictures. Very carefully they lift the papers. Lo, there are paintings on water! Holi scenes can also be seen in the Madhubani folk painting of Bihar.

The theme continues in modern art as well. Every year calendars are printed showing Krishna and Radha spraying colour at each other. The festival inspires the cartoonist in his own way.

Then there are Holi greetings cards. They began in a small way. going by the display now, they seem to have caught on. And in what a variety they come. With words like 'Holi hai', 'Rang barse' and 'Rang aur bhang' in bright colours, they make festive graffiti. Some others are more of colour splashes than words or hearty wishes.

Yet others carry long or short merry verses or jokes. In some you may find a small balloon or a tiney sachet of gulal between the folds. As the festival draws near. Holi splashes appear in newspaper ads, even on banners and hoardings.

Some tins of cooking oil, as also some other cartons, are decorated colourfully in Holi style.

Many newspapers and magazines bring out special issues. With sketches, pictures and other decorations, these are in their own way samples of Holi art.

Source: Observer