Some time in the 1990s, art critic Veejay Sai travelled to Irinjalakuda as part of his research and saw his first Kutiyattam performance. A few years later, his real tryst with the art happened in Mumbai when Ammannur Madhava Chakyar was honoured at a function which saw the likes of Pandit Jasraj and Shashi Kapoor among the attendees. Amanoor Madhava Chayar presented an excerpt of the Dashavataram and the audience was spellbound.
“We were awestruck by what we saw on stage. Just a few moments ago, he was struggling to move around with ease but suddenly he was transformed on stage. I still remember how with merely the glare of his eyes he depicted the expansion of Vamana into Trivikrama. We forgot he was an old man. It was an extraordinary moment,” recollects Veejay.
Sanskrit theatre has been a part of India for millennia. It was patronised by the kings and over centuries, it manifested in several other art forms across India. “For instance, Tejan Bai‘s Pandavaani is a folk art but is heavily inspired by the Sanskrit plays of Bhasa,” says Veejay. “Kutiyattam was nurtured in the koothambalams in the ancient temples of Kerala, and its elements got retained for centuries. A simple act can go on for hours but there is beauty in it.”
And this very association with the koothambalams kept it going. Son of celebrated guru Moozhikkulam Kochukuttan Chakyar, Margi Madhu has been running Nepathya Centre for Excellence in Koodiyattam for many years. “From around the 12th century, Kutiyattam has been a part of the temple rituals. It is performed even if nobody is around to watch it because it has to be performed as a part of the ritual, much like say, a Siveli. Even if nobody is in a temple, the Siveli is conducted.”
Around the 1930s and 1940s, a new renaissance was taking place in the field of performing arts. The durbars and feudal courts were losing their sheen and new institutions came up to support the arts. Kalamandalam in Thrissur and Kalakshetra in Madras became the new centres of this revival in the south. In1955, Kutiyattam moved out of temple precincts for the first time under the aegis of Mani Madhava Chakyar. In the 1960s, he took Kutiyattam to Chennai and for the first time, the art crossed the boundaries of the state as well. “Society had started changing post independence and new ideas and movements were knocking at our doors. It was a matter of survival for Kutiyattam in changing circumstances. In 1965, Kalamandalam began teaching Kutiyattam. Later, more people began knowing about it and there were documentaries made on it, leading to demands for performances across the world and the recognition from UNESCO in 2001,” says Madhu.
Today, Kutiyattam training has been preserved in areas like Thrissur Kalamandalam, Trupunithra, Thiruvananthapuram, Irinjalakuda and Aluva. Performing and watching Kutiyattam can be quite an intense experience. “The great Ammannur Madhava Chakyar was famous for his presentation of Bali Vadham. While he showed Bali dying on stage, he almost lost his breath, posing risk to his life. Even the setting is conducive for that immersive experience. The silence of the night with just the light of the lamp lighting up an intense performance. Kutiyattam was sustained through many centuries because it was a an offering in temples and yet, it was open to public. It was not just four priests watching it,” says Veejay,
There are obvious challenges when it comes to keeping this art form going. Madhu believes that unlike other classical art forms, many more years of intensive training is required before an artist can start performing before the public. “There is a lot to learn, memorise, think and train the body for it. Today, speed is everything and youngsters feel more pressurised to settle down financially. It is passion that keeps a Kutiyattam artist going. So the livelihood from art issue is there.”
Veejay feels the real fervour of Kutiyattam cannot be realised in a proscenium for it requires a more intimate setting. “The koothamabalams were closed spaces for a reason. Temples created that ambience. With the mizhavu being played at the back, you are watching the actor in the light of the vilakku. These are not rehearsed performances. That vilakku is like the deity and you witness the offering from the performer to the divine. You visualise kingdoms, palaces, mountains and an entire universe out of that light. Regardless of your presence it will have that intensity. That’s how all old masters did it.”
Madhu waves away comparison to other art forms like Bharatantyam and points out the fact that with Bharatanatyam there are more teachers than performers. “They are financially more secure as it’s also fashionable to send one’s kids to learn the art. Forget kids, today, even homemakers are very keen on learning and enrolling in huge numbers to learn Bharatanatyam. Income generation for a Bharatanatyam teacher is not hard. To become a successful performing artist in Bharatanatyam one requires sound financial backing as the lifestyle itself is financially demanding. But the audience for Kutiyattam is different. Most people in the audience for a regular classical dance programme might not know its technicalities. But three out of 10 people in a Kutiyattam audience knows a lot about the art. They might be small numerically but more involved.”
In a fast-paced world where attention span is swindling faster than the ice caps of the Arctic, the duration of a Kutiyattam performance is also shrinking. “The format is such that the full purport of a story cannot be brought out in two or three hours; it is narrated over several days. The thing about art is it cannot be supported based on popularity alone. Our society’s visual culture is changing. People want a visual treat but art is not just a visual treat. They are meant for exploring the depths and that was always the basis of ancient theatre,” says Madhu, whose organisation Nepathya also showcases Kutiyattam on YouTube live as a part of their Weekly Performance Series.
In 2008, Madhu began the Kutiyattam festival at Moozhikulam and is celebrating 15 years of the festival. For this art to have more takers, he feels more venues are required. “It is hard for anything that goes deep to gain broad popularity. Hence the state has to support it. In any budgetary cut, the first axe falls on culture. Just because agriculture was not profitable we converted all our farmlands into apartment complexes and today we get our food from neighbouring states. Then times are also changing. It is hard for a society to enjoy those arts where thinking is required when our thinking is being outsourced to AI,” he says.
(This story was published in the anniversary edition of The Times of India, Kochi)
Madraswallah 
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