Folk fervour fizzles

In a time filled with waiting, urban artistes are innovating and embracing ideas to create a legacy beyond the lockdown.
Manikandan took to Silambattam when he was four years old
Manikandan took to Silambattam when he was four years old

In a time filled with waiting, urban artistes are innovating and embracing ideas to create a legacy beyond the lockdown. Performances are now unfolding in individual homes with social media as the new stage. But can traditional folk art and dance withstand the onslaught of a pandemic? Will these artistes survive against the odds and emerge from the cultural closures? Veena Mani talks to three rural artistes, capturing their moments of turmoil and turbulence.

MANIKANDAN, Silambattam performer

Silambattam is a traditional martial art form and also considered as a folk art of Tamil Nadu. I started learning from my father when I was four years old. He is no more. I am 35 years old, and I have been performing all these years. Some of the props we use are hoops and long wooden sticks. The height of the stick has to match the performer’s height. If the person is six feet tall, then the stick should be six feet as well. Silambattam entails an acrobatic style and is now considered a sport. In the olden days, it was performed in different villages during festivals etc.

I perform at temple festivals and weddings as well. But I get a sense of fulfillment only when we perform on the road in villages, where people come out to watch us and we get respect. Life as a folk artiste is not easy. We are not paid enough for our shows. We are a five-member team, and for the whole troupe, organisers usually pay `5,000. So each one can take home only `1,000. We do not get many shows as event management is killing this art form. They do not want to pay us, as they are keen to consider cheaper options. Original artistes are not needed.

These days, a lot of western dancers are called and asked to perform Silambattam. So, I also work as a daily-wage labourer. People call me to fix billboards. But now with the lockdown, I can’t even source income from these odd jobs. I have not paid my children’s school fees. I have promised to pay up the fees once I get some money. Right now, my wife’s parents are helping us. Any parent would want to help their child. I am not asking them to do anything for us but they are helping us so I am grateful to them. Classical artistes are using social media but then how will we get access to it? I live in a slum. I can barely afford to have a good phone. I have a simple phone.

My house is tiny. How will I compete with those? One needs high-tech gadgets and Internet to do all that. I would be happy if I can feed my family thrice a day. I hope this ends soon and I can get some work. I usually go to the Marina beach to practise but now it’s not possible. In my slum area, there are many coronavirus cases, so I can’t even get out of my house. It will take a lot of time for us to recover from this. I am not thinking of dancing right now. I want to first get out of my house.

THILLAGAVATHI, Kattaikkuttu artiste

Kattaikkuttu is a traditional rural theatre art form which is performed only by men — who sing, act and dance, and the musicians accompany them on the harmonium, the mridangam and the mukavinai. Most of our narratives are stories from the Mahabharata. The performance usually starts at 10 pm and concludes by 6 am, the following morning. It is believed that only those from the backward, downtrodden community travelled to make some money. The performers, around 13 to 15 ,would put up a tent and the entire village would be their audience.

Nowadays, this dance form is not bound by caste; everyone can perform. In fact, even women have started taking up Kattaikkuttu. I have been performing to an audience of at least 500 people through the night. But sadly, the plight of folk artistes is miserable. My sister, uncle and the entire family has been in this business; they do not have shows and are jobless. I am somehow surviving because I use my art to work with an NGO that pays me a salary. During this lockdown, I have been managing because I have a ration card using which I can get rice. For the other essentials, I ask for help from others. Unlike other (modern) dance forms, folk art cannot be shared on social media. If it is available on the Internet, our livelihood will get killed as people will watch it online instead of calling us for a live show. Plus, one cannot use accompanists on the social media platform.

I have a family of six members to support and my income is `13,000. Also, the problem is that in my industry, we earn only for six months of the year, especially between May and October. But this year, it won’t be possible because there might not be many shows. With this virus scare, this year, I do not want to take a risk by travelling for shows. Nobody knows the concept of saving and now we do not know if we can make enough money to save. Most folk artistes who I know are surviving because of donations from various quarters including corporates. Since I am slightly more privileged than most other folk artistes, I am distributing donations that come to me, to those who re a l ly need it. With t he donations, I am able to help people with food for these families.

KANNAN KUMAR, Thevarattam dancer

I have been performing and teaching Thevarattam for the last 63 years. I started when I was 10 years old. Traditionally, this dance was performed when kings and warriors returned after winning battles. Now, in the more modern context, Thevarattam includes the praise of musical instruments as well as the music and also the creator of dance — Shiva. Performed by both men and women, this dance form requires at least eight members in the troupe.

We have been performing at various temple festivals across Tamil Nadu. In the last few years, we have now started teaching this dance form in schools. I have been teaching this to students from classes 2 to 12. For teaching four classes a month, I used to get `12,000. The peak season for Thevarattam performance i s b e -tween July and February. But the current coronavirus situation has put a pause on all my classes. As an artiste, I don’t like asking for money. I accept what people give us. Forget shows, I wish schools reopen so that I can make some money.

My daughter-in-law and my grandchildren live with me. My son died at a young age. I have to somehow manage funds for their education. I might have to take a loan to  send them to college. My granddaughter is in the final year of BCom and my grandson is in the initial years of college. Though the state government and central government has schemes to help folk artistes, I have been told by people that this support is only for people who have no family. I cannot lie and take this support. Right now, we are eating what we have at home. Thankfully, people in my troupe have other occupations to manage when there are no shows. They do not depend on shows.

Related Stories

No stories found.
The New Indian Express
www.newindianexpress.com