V.R. Devika
My cellphone rang… it was Roja Kannan (president of the Association of Bharatanatyam Artistes of India). “Devika”, she said, “ABHAI has been asked by IGNCA to identify artists in dire need of help during this COVID crisis. Padma Subrahmanyam advised me that you could identify such folk artists.” Immediately I sent the phone number of leather shadow puppeteer Selvaraj who was not only without any performing engagement in March but also had met with a road accident. His son was asked a huge sum of money for a surgery in a private hospital nearby as he had no means of transport to go to a government hospital. ABHAI immediately transferred Rs.15000 to them that was a great help said Selvaraj’s son.
Then I gave ABHAI the contact for Terukoothu artist Kumar, son of Kalaimamani Dakshinamurthy who passed away recently. Kumar is struggling to keep the company together and trying to get performances in his father’s absence, knowing well that it was Dakshinamurthy’s prowess that had been getting them performances.
Then I called kattaikuttu artist Thilakavathi Palani. Thilaka said she was going around to the villages of Kanchipuram, distributing amounts sent by musician T.M. Krishna to artists who were shell shocked at the cancellation of all night performances and Bharatakoothu festival in which the whole village participates in rituals connected with the Mahabharata. After listening to the musical narration of the Mahabharata in the morning, episodes are enacted in the koothu form all night, culminating in “Padukalam” when the huge statue of Duryodhana gets destroyed and the icon of Druapadi Amman from the temple also ritualistically has her hair tied up at the same time when the artist performing the role of Draupadi does so. March, April and May are the busiest months for koothu artists who may also take on casual work in farms during the lean months.
Thilakavathi Palani works for the NGO “Katradi” (Wind Dancers Trust) founded by Sangeetha Isvaran and Elizabeth Haynes. They sent foodgrains and cash to many artists who are among the poorest of the poor like the pambai rhythm players, neyyandi melam, karagam artists and medai natakam artists who perform during temple festivals and household rituals. Thilaga has been packing bags containing rice, dal and oil and going around on her two-wheeler to distribute to Kattaikuttu artists and others.
“We learn that there are several artists among migrant workers. Katradi has been receiving appeals from marginalised communities like the Irula and Narikurava tribes, traditional performing artists, daily wage earners, single mothers whose lives have taken a catastrophic downturn when livelihoods have disappeared,” says Sangeetha who is planning to set up an office in the village of Kalavai koot road for better coordination of distribution. “Community workers from the Katradi team (most of them folk artists) are following up each appeal, assessing the situation and delivering the help needed while respecting the rules of social distancing.”
Dadi Padamjee of UNIMA also has been reaching out to puppeteers to help them. Radhika Ganesh of Ek Potli Ret Ki is also raising funds to help craftspersons, folk artists and others.
Even as I write this, I am moved by a story that came up. Eighty labourers in Andhra Pradesh’s Puttaparthy, that included many Kashmiri craftsmen who weave exquisite carpets and make wooden artefacts, were asked to pay 1.8 lakhs for a bus ride to the Hyderabad station by the local authorities. However, the brothers Ram and Laxman Rao who own gold jewellery shops and petrol pumps in the area, advanced the 1.8 lakhs needed for the journey to the railway station. The brothers said, “We have known the Kashmiris who stay in our area; they are our brothers.” Shek Tariq, a Kashmiri shawl and cloth seller, said they were miserable till Ram and Laxman came to their rescue.
I sighed. There is still hope for humanity.