Jottings - Slice of life - 234 ( Sankarabaranam - a masterpiece )

Jottings - Slice of life - 234 ( Sankarabaranam - a masterpiece )

There is a scene in Sankarabharanam, in fact its climax. Set in a newly renovated auditorium, sponsored by a lady (Tulasi), whose love for music and platonic veneration of the aging Musical Guru Sankara sastry brings her back to the village to pay silent respects to the man who transcended frozen traditions through music and offered the shade of his home and art when she most needed it during her traumatic younger years , and, if possible. leave her young son under his tutelage to absorb his oceanic art. The master is about to sing after years of involuntary hiatus, caused mostly due to Tulasi's presence in his life at a crucial stage .She now has a sacred duty to perform, and an art to redeem. The hall is buzzing with expectant listeners ; the master is ready to sing once again. Overwhelmed by the generosity of this absent benefactor, the master clad in simple attire without the regal paraphernalia of maestro, breaks into a gentle smile, with traces of deep physical tiredness and emotional emancipation evident on his face. He makes a short dedication honoring the person ( Tulasi hasn't presented herself to him yet) and offers his gratitude to the patronage of such unknown benefactors who keep the artistic traditions of a civilization alive through self effacing charity. With deep inner fulfillment, he begins to sing the first lines of Saint Tyagaraja's famous song " Dorukuna itu vanti seva.." ( "Can there a service more honorable than this..?).Midway, he collapses, unable to continue; music stops and for a few seconds there is palpable silence broken only by incessant cough of the master. The Camera moves to Tulasi, who gently places her hands on her son's shoulder beckoning him to continue; and he does so without a moments hesitation or break in musical continuity. The master's eyes light up, he looks up around the stage, his eyes fall upon Tulasi and melts in silent recognition; he then turns his gaze at his long time friend sitting in the first row , and with few quick glances back and forth confirms his sudden realization that the young boy who has lived, studied music with him for so long, is none other than the child of his one time artistic protege - Tulasi, the girl to whom he had offered his home, safety and art - all at once.

What took me nearly half an hour to write, took K Vishwanath (KV), the director of the classic Sankarabharanam, less than four minutes to execute on screen with greater aesthetic sense, intensity and power than my words could ever muster. The movie remains one of the finest Indian movies in the last hundred years. Forbes listed Sankarabharanam as a work worthy of ranking amongst the classics of world Cinema. And rightly so. Even after forty years, the movie resonates with meaning, technical, directorial and acting excellence difficult to recreate in modern times. On Jan 15th, 1980, Sankarabaram was released in a single theatre in Andra pradesh, India. The hall ran empty for a week. Those who trickled in to watch were those who were curious about the new face of Somayajulu on posters outside, and the radiant dancing figure of classical Kuchipudi dancer Manju Bhargavi. Nothing much was known about the movie itself, except that its theme was classical music and dance. Slowly, the word spread. The emotional experience - that only great art can give - swept those who watched the movie. It was intense, musically brilliant, cinematically perfect, and above all, within three hours, audience were moved to touch deep emotional space within that left them in tears as emerged out of the hall. Quickly, more people flocked to experience the alchemy, and cinema halls throughout the state began screening Sankarabharanam to full capacity. At a time, when movies were going a commercial upheaval, K Vishwanath had conjured a masterpiece based on universal theme of art, dignity, integrity and grace.

The movie is a masterpiece at multiple levels. It is difficult to point out separately. The overall effect made the difference. However, who can forget Balu Mahendra's mercurial cinematography and brilliant angles in the august ruins of Halibeedu, Karnataka to capture Manju Bhargavi's effortless and exquisitely trained dance movements, or the masterful compositions of the KV Mahadevan blending rich classical traditions with modern strains of music that made people forget the difference, or the genius of requesting SP balasubramaniam (SPB), then known only for his lighter numbers, to render all the classical pieces in a manner that suited an untrained ear and gently introducing a new generation of music lovers to the charms and depth of Carnatic repertoire, or who can question K Vishwanath's masterstroke of bringing an unknown actor in the form of Somayajulu to play the seminal role; and how well the artist wore that character, so much so that Somayajulu could never come out of the robes of Sankara Sastry throughout this career as an actor; or the singular elegance of its screenplay with each scene tightly etched and delivered, and seamlessly merging into one another to create a kaleidoscopic tapestry of emotions and meaningful narrative; and lastly, in the judicious use of dialogue or the lack of it to convey emotions which heightened the sense of drama without losing its intrinsic meaning.

I have watched Sankarabaram at least two dozen times. Like Shakespeare, Dickens, hemmingway or Henry James to name a few - whose works reveal new layers each time I read, Sankarabharanam is among those very few Indian movie I return to every now and then. Sometimes, I lose myself in the appreciation of its musical presentation, sometimes in Manju Bhargavi's dancing elegance, sometimes in Somayajulu's measured acting performance, and almost always, I am overwhelmed by the overall control KV had over each frame in the movie.

By any reckoning, Sankarabaram will have to among the top twenty movies Indian film makers have made so far.

God bless...

yours in mortality,

Bala