That's the greatness of masters who know their art—they can do an instant improvisation, quickly accommodating a new concept into their craft and play it out just as easily as their routine performance. And that's how Kathak maestro Rajendra Gangani experienced the rains of Kerala inside the CMS College auditorium in front of a transfixed audience on the fourth day of Soorya Festival.
With classic Kathak foot movements and abhinaya, he went from a quizzical traveller, who felt the first drizzles of the season, to an ecstatic admirer of the pelting water shots that got him completely drenched in the torrid downpour.
Rajendra Gangani of the Jaipur Gharana, an ardent disciple of Kathak, received the Sangeet Nataka Akademi Award in 2003 from President Dr. A.P.J Abdul Kalam. Having performed at various venues, he was here at Kottayam, to not only present the dance form, but also to chat with the audience and tell them a little about Kathak.
For a dance that is based on katha (story) and excellent footwork, Gangani was a storm on the stage. Initiating his dance with panchakshara by Adi Shankara, a composition of three ragas in teen taal, he paid a wonderful tribute to Lord Shiva.
In teen taal, he performed Nritya, in the 16 beat rhythm circle with a display of pace coupled with impressive restrain. Backed by pakhavaj (mridangam), harmonium, sarangi and vocals, the moment of truth arrived when the tempo rose high, working in tandem with Gangani's astonishingly fast footwork, that could have amazed a tap dancer.
Gangani's conviction in his art is the biggest treat while he's performing; he is a timid damsel stealing glances at her heartthrob in ghoongat ki gat, to a ravishing peacock that spreads out its feathers and dances in mirth at the rains. He is the innocent Krishna singing 'Maiya mori, mai nahin makhan khayo' (Mother, I did not eat the butter), and also Yashoda, the doting mother, who after reprimands, feeds her son the coveted butter.
For the dilettantish viewer, he explained the finer details of basic Kathak, such as Aamad, Udhan, Paran; of gait, expressing with eyebrows, shringara and bhava.
Towards the end, he packed a grand tabla-ghungroo jugalbandi for the audience. A spontaneous conversation between the dynamic tabla and the chirping ghungroo that went on for a good 10 minutes, had the audience shackled to their seats. Gangani reciprocated ever so quickly to the adeptness of the instrument, and the jugalbandi gained pace after a slow start, stamping its efficacious presence on the minds of the viewers.
As an afterthought to this grand finale, the tabla player included his bit of 'drumming to sound like the hoofs of a horse thumping on riding grounds', that concluded the performance on a high note.