When Shiva Came Alive

For Sabhapathy, the narrative or the action that took place before the frozen moment of the sculpture as well as the glide back into the story from what the sculpture represented were both of equal relevance. They were almost as important as the sculpture itself, as the sculpture represented only a second in time and they spoke of the entire story. The artistic merit of an image propelled him into bringing the myth alive for those who wished to hear it. And he had quite a following.

In one way, there was nothing new in what he did. Classical Indian dancers enact mythology and secular love poetry through body language, facial expressions and mudras. At particular moments of the story the dancer strikes appropriate poses or karanas. These poses are equivalent to the frozen moment of a sculpture. In fact, most karanas are based on sculptures.

For an uninitiated visitor to stand near a particular sculpture in the museum and become aware of the context in which it belonged made all the difference. Discussing, for example, the group in granite of the rishis’ wives standing to the right of the tall figure of Shiva as mendicant with the ganas, the dwarfs to the left, Sabhapathy would enact the entire story. Imitating Mohini’s swaying gait, he would describe how she lured the seven rishis into the forests of Darukavanam, allowing Shiva to enter the town in order to seduce the wives. Sabhapathy would then be transformed into a gana, beating frantically at his drums heralding Shiva’s entry. Then Sabhapathy would sigh and swoon in the manner of the smitten wives who had quite forgotten their household chores at the sight of the beautiful mendicant, letting ‘‘their ladles fall from their hands and their clothes from their bodies’’.

Finishing with this group, Sabhapathy would move to Shiva as Gajahmurti. But that is another story.