Journalism of Courage
Urban trysts with an old martial art
The most enduring image of Kalaripayattu is that of its airborne practitioners in brief clothing; not to forget the lush backdrop of Kerala. As a dancer,I was first attracted to Kalari through its use in dance choreography,later discovering the gift of flexibility and stamina that came with it. However,what I encounter during an on-going Kalaripayattu workshop in Mumbai is starkly different from its traditional image.
The asan (teacher),who gave me my first lessons in Kalaripayattu in Kerala two years ago,would have been greatly disappointed at this sight. Every year,when a new bunch of shy men and women start learning Kalari,he is the one who wrests the towels off their white loincloths on the second day. He targets the men,while women have to remain fully clad and grumble about how hot it is.
Kalaripayattu demands discipline,stamina and immense patience. It is commonly called Kalari,but kalari also refers to the physical space in which the art form is practised which are mostly subterranean mud-floored spaces enclosed by beautiful wooden architecture and decorated by photos of old men holding wooden staffs. Practising Kalari is a lifelong process of learning. Many dancers have been drawn to the rigour and form of Kalari and have used it in their performances Chandralekha,for instance,used Bharatanatyam,Kalari and yoga in her choreography.
Returning to Mumbai,here,the class cannot get over the fact that the only things stirring over our heads are the pigeons whove taken up residence in the gaps between ceilings,not fans. They facilitate no ventilation,but excrete copiously.
Now,Kalari is usually a very quiet exercise where the only sounds are made by body parts smacking other body parts. So it is amusing to watch people do the high-decibel I will crack this! breathing that they think strenuous physical activity necessitates. Finally,the instructor stands before us with his tongue out,imitated them,and declared that there was no need to breathe like a dog.
But the most irksome thing is probably our hopelessly underdeveloped sense of space. In Kerala,the kalaris are often narrower than the hall we have here in Mumbai. Yet,people rarely kick someone else by mistake. If you do that,everyone will glare at you till you want to hide your face in a white loincloth. Here,over-enthusiastic people might freely kick their neighbours in a poor imitation of Jackie Chans moves. Others might spontaneously freeze in the midst of assembly-line kicking,making one wonder if they are meant to be frozen sculptures.
