Many of us have heard of Draupadi. I suppose you could call her one of the heroines of the great Indian epic, Mahabharatha, although her story hardly fits into the framework of the traditional heroine's narrative. There is no happily ever after. She has an unusual matrimonial situation - she is married to 5 brothers, the Pandavas, the good guys of the story. She is best known for the infamous episode in which Dushasana, the evil cousin of her husbands, attempts to disrobe her, publicly, in a brutal and despicable show of power, authority and victory. Krishna comes to her rescue and Draupadi, a figure of red-hot rage, swears that the next time she washes her hair, it will be with the blood of her enemies. And then? ......most people are uncertain about what becomes of her as the story moves on.
But what was she really like? What did she make of what her life dealt her? What must she have thought about while a room full of men watched and waited with lust-filled anticipation to see her naked? Was she angry, resentful, vengeful? What was the secret of her power that made her hold her head up through all the terrible things she had to endure?
Draupadi is an enigma and several people have attempted to delve deeper into her persona, looking, searching, for clues and answers to what this extraordinary woman might have been about. Last night, I watched a powerful performance by the sparklingly brilliant Bharata Natyam dancer, Dr. Janaki Rangarajan, as she probed the mind and world of Draupadi. She performed at the Drive East festival, a glittering gem in New York City’s cultural landscape, in which several concerts of Indian music and dance take place every day, for an entire week.
Photo credit: Vignesh Ravichandran
Janaki Rangarajan’s production, Unravelled, is her very personal quest to make sense of Draupadi, of what it is to be a woman in a world structured and controlled by men. It was born of her discomfort with the status quo, from the questions that nobody dares ask, and the world’s tendency to hush a woman’s voice, to sugar-coat her story, to force her into a mold that makes society sit back, complacent and smug. She communicated her emotions, questions and answers with the powerful symbols and movements of classical Bharata Natyam, as well as with the spoken word. The musical accompaniment was a mix of Carnatic, Hindustani and folk music, very apt for a woman who belongs to all these domains.
Unravelled takes place in 4 acts. Janaki came onstage, dressed in white and red, the colors of purity and menstrual blood, and explained the genesis of this show. All over the villages of south of India, especially in Tamil Nadu, there are temples to Draupadi, where she is worshipped as Draupadi Amman. Janaki had visited one such temple and seeing how this once tainted woman was now purified and deified, the questions bubbled up and poured over. And took shape and life in the form of this production. Act 1, called the Soul’s Monologue, imagines Draupadi’s soul at her funeral pyre, looking at her body, and expressing her thoughts about it. For the soul, nudity is a form of release, of freedom, from the shackles of societal norms and expectations. Death brings an end to the tears caused by cold-eyed men. Janaki’s dancing with her bright, crisp footwork, clean lines and sinuous movements was a real pleasure to behold. Her superb training and conditioning were evident in how she wove effortlessly between dancing and speaking, all with consummate grace and poise.
Act 2, When Time Stopped, takes an intensely personal look at the famous disrobing scene. What must Draupadi have really thought? Janaki attempted to recreate, moment by moment, the thoughts and emotions that must have coursed through Draupadi during this humiliating episode. The words of the great Tamil poet, Subramania Bharathi, were evoked, echoing Mother Nature’s anguish during times of disaster and destruction. Draupadi’s clothes are imagined as a metaphor for male-imposed social axioms and standards. So perhaps she viewed her disrobing as a form of power, of independence from those strictures that were meaningless to her. The mind is all powerful and if you have control over that, then you truly are liberated. Amid the chaos of the disrobing, we gain access to the churn and strife of her most intimate thoughts. While Dushanana pulls, Draupadi’s mind is far away, imagining with relish the revenge she will unleash upon these monstrous men. “Silly men!” she scoffs, “I am the Earth; I cannot be tied and tried, I cannot be vanquished. So pull, Dushasana - and set me free, back to my natural state, to freedom”. The men are portrayed as cartoonish and ugly while the woman is the Goddess herself, supremely strong and indestructible.
This section was powerful indeed, with its torrent of words, the jerky movements of disrobing, the furious footwork. Not once did the intensity falter, and the communion between dancer and her audience was complete.
Act 3, Wildflower, involves a little girl and her grandfather who live in the frigid lands near the Himalayas. The little girl stumbles upon Draupadi’s dead, frozen body, and is full of questions for her grandfather. Janaki’s introduction to this section was provocative and stimulating. How has the lot of women changed? Why was it fine for Draupadi to have 5 husbands but not the women of today? Why is it that women are judged - as wives, mothers, sisters, daughters - but never as just themselves? The little girl, the wildflower, is still young and unfettered by the roles society has in store for her, and her innocence and unbridled spirit are in evidence in the questions she peppers her grandfather with.
And Act 4, the Politics of Draupadi, is a rumination on themes similar to what have already been explored in the previous acts. Why did Draupadi become a goddess? Is that one way of shutting down any dialogue, any questions that might - heaven forbid - provoke thought or dissent? Why is it that women are blamed for rape and assault? And why is it that they need to “purify” themselves to gain acceptance? Is the deification of Draupadi a form of such purification? Why can’t a woman be accepted as she is, flaws and all? Why is a clean, pure Goddess, so alluring? Why should the uncomfortable truths of her life be hidden behind her heavy veil of silks and jewelry?
The program was a spirited, powerful, thought-provoking feminist credo that was passionate and quite moving in parts. Janaki is a superb dancer. And an excellent communicator. I did feel that there was too much of the spoken word - with her elucidating her thoughts and ideas to us in perhaps more detail than necessary - and that it would have been better to leave more of the interpretation to us. I also feel that the whole piece could have been more tightly structured - at times, it did have the feel of a work-in-progress, but on the other hand, one’s thoughts about these issues are never static, and do evolve depending on where one is is in life. But for a classical Bharata Natyam program that dared to go beyond the usual, and used this medium so powerfully and so effectively to not just tell a story but to convey ideas, this was a brilliant evening indeed. Art provokes thought and dialogue, and Janaki’s Unravelling did just that, judging from the animated discussions outside the theater after the event. Bravo to the Drive East festival for featuring such a performance!
If you are in or around New York City this week, do take a look at the wonderful variety of offerings at Drive East. My beloved music group, the Navatman Music Collective, is performing on Sunday, August 27th, at 2 pm. Do go! You will be richly rewarded.