Premium
This is an archive article published on November 23, 2003

Rockstar Moves

HER voice rattles and hums. Her moves see Kathakali meet dandiya. And her multimedia theatrical presentation hurtles you along on a personal...

.

HER voice rattles and hums. Her moves see Kathakali meet dandiya. And her multimedia theatrical presentation hurtles you along on a personal journey. Maya Krishna Rao, who presented Deeper Fried Jam (DFJ) at Prithvi Theatre’s recent national festival, isn’t easy to peg.

Daughter of actor-dancer, Banumathi, Rao’s trained in Kathakali and Bharatnatyam, and spent half her Delhi student years on stage. “I entered at Level Six but never considered theatre a profession,” admits the artiste who twice opted out of the National School of Drama (NSD). After studying sociology, political science and theatre (in England)—and conducting various workshops with students—Rao set up her own company, Vismayah, 10 years ago. “This winding path has influenced my solo performances, ensuring that social processes reflect in my work,” she feels.

Deeper Fried Jam began with ‘jam’ sessions with musician Ashim Ghosh in her garage-studio. And 10 days before the premiere, videographer Surajit Sarkar joined in. “I’ve worked with recorded music before,” elaborates Rao, whose creations usually evolve from solo rehearsals in her studio, interacting with found objects, everyday incidents and her thoughts. “But this was a full-fledged partnership, each one planting new inputs,” she says, explaining that Deeper Fried Jam includes new episodes and more spontaneity. Ghosh’s music sparked movements and dialogues—with a camera recording these small improvisations.

Story continues below this ad

“Surajit experimented during rehearsals. Or brought clips that acted as stimuli,” she recalls, adding, “We’ve grown up on the same music—Jimi Hendrix, Rolling Stones, Janis Joplin—which naturally lead to the confluence of ideas.”

DFJ is presented like a rock show, with Ghosh playing various instruments, Sarkar projecting live recordings, Rao—in psychedelic garb—crooning songs, dancing across the ramp-stage and musing out dialogues. The frenetically-paced episodes represent urban life: nostalgia (Delhi in jamun season), prejudice (The Other we don’t want in our neighbourhood), competition (faster technology with satisfaction guaranteed), violence (let’s get her), creativity (tapping the rhythm within). So the slipper in the Gujarat episode assumes demonic proportions, when the camera juxtaposes it with a map, money and bloodstains. “I’ve always wanted to bring Gandhi on stage,” she says about his image on currency notes, “It’s an everyday face no one looks at. But he’s not really an everyday person in our minds.”

She does meet people who feel they didn’t understand the entire performance. “But they say, ‘Hum bhaav mein aa gaye.’ I can’t analyse meanings from my sub-conscious. But if it triggers memories from your experience, you make it your own,” she reasons, continuing, “There’s improvisation on stage too. Ashim plays a variant note, bringing new thoughts and moves. Every show is different.”

After the NSD festival, Women’s Theatre festival (Delhi), House of World Cultures shows (Berlin) and the Prithvi festival (Mumbai), Rao is now taking DFJ to the Other Festival (Chennai) and Kolkata. “Shows are planned in Delhi colleges too. Youngsters, in a state of shift, identify with issues of politics, nostalgia, love and self-identity,” she believes.

Story continues below this ad

Of the 20-odd episodes, seven to eight feature in a show. The team also tries to incorporate events occurring on the day of the staging. “And we’d like an all-night performance, like traditional theatre. We have disco nights and rave parties—it’ll be interesting to see how this translates into contemporary theatre,” Rao enthuses. As for future projects: “It’s the process, the journey, that challenges me. But I get easily bored, so I need to excite myself, before making something new.”

Latest Comment
Post Comment
Read Comments
Advertisement
Advertisement
Advertisement
Advertisement