The Tanjore Quartet varnams primarily focus on the naayika bhava and sringara rasa, which are explored through beautifully human storylines of desire. These compositions depict the naayika, the subject of desire, and her naayaka, the object of her affection, creating an irresistible chemistry overflowing with sringara. However, over time, the essence of the dance of desire has been lost in translation. The emphasis has shifted from the woman brimming with desire to highlighting the qualities of the man, placing him in the foreground. Nowadays, Bharatanatyam practitioners are rediscovering the musical and lyrical value of the sringara varnams. But do dancers truly grasp the essence of these timeless compositions? If the subject of desire is erased, what remains? Who then carries forth the Dance of Desire?
Jeetendra Hirschfeld
NOTE:
Sathir Dance Art Trust Amsterdam © 2008–2018. All Rights Reserved.
The text, photos, and video of this essay are protected by copyright.
Reproduction, in part or in whole, is strictly prohibited without prior written permission from the author/publisher.
April 2008 (update: April 2018) / By Jeetendra Hirschfeld
A Dancing Quartet
For as long as I can remember, I have been captivated by the dance compositions of the renowned nattuvans, Chinnayya, Ponnayya, Sivanandam, and Vadivelu, commonly known as the Tanjore Quartet. As I delved into the study of these dance compositions several years ago, my fascination only grew. My initial interest and subsequent research particularly focused on the varnams, aimed to uncover the inspiration behind the composers’ songwriting choices and their intentions.
The Tanjore Quartet, esteemed musicians and dance masters of the Tanjore court in the 19th century crafted a treasure trove of courtly dance repertoire. At the Maharajah’s Durbar, these compositions were performed by Tanjorian courtesans. Among the various pieces composed by the Quartet, including sollukattus, sabdams, padams, javalis, svarajathis, and thillanas, the most significant ones are the exquisite varnams. These varnams praise the virtues of the courtesans, the gods, and the kings.
The evolution of court dance (Sadir) into proscenium format (Bharatanatyam) took a convoluted path throughout the 20th century. During this transition, a selection of “new” varnams emerged as prominent pieces for proscenium performances. One such example is the varnam in raga sankarabharanam, Manavi, although it had already gained popularity in earlier court and chamber concerts. The varnam, Saminine Korinanura, and other varnams became part of the Margam presentations. These later additions include Sakiye (Anandabhairavi), Mohamana (Bhairavi), and Ati Mogam (Sankarabharanam). These three varnams are adaptations of the original Telugu compositions, with Tamil lyrics by ‘Sangeetha Kalanidhi’ Tanjore K. Ponnaiah Pillai, the great-grandson of Tanjore Sivanandam. In recent years, the lesser-known and often referred to as “rare” compositions of the Tanjore Quartet have made a comeback in Margam performances and regained popularity. Entire evenings of dance, and sometimes dedicated festivals, are now centred around their dance compositions. For those who have extensively studied dance under a nattuvanar or a prominent, long-time disciple of a nattuvanar, these varnams have always been an integral part of their repertoire.
Also Read:
Dance Design of Tanjore Quartet Varnams
The Tanjore Quartet varnams primarily focus on naayika bhava and sringara rasa, delving into beautifully human storylines of desire that are flawed yet perfectly portrayed. The essence of desire, embodied by the naayika and her object of affection, the naayaka, creates an irresistible chemistry that brims with sringara. However, over time, the dance depicting desire has lost its true essence in translation. The original inspiration behind the varnams, the vibrant court dancer, has now been transformed into a submissive protagonist, a caricature of a woman trapped in a fairy-tale narrative. She surrenders her body and soul to the will of a man, and her waves of desire have been replaced by waves of misery. This interpretation of the varnams strays from their original intent and differs from my understanding of them.
The depiction of the “loved and lost” theme should not be reduced to a portrayal of a mindless, weak, and submissive damsel endlessly waiting for an absent man. Yes, the woman experiences longing and distress over her indifferent lover—who wouldn’t? However, her distress does not diminish her entirely. What the sringara varnam truly embodies, through these love stories, is the exploration of both the body and soul—the intricate connection between sexuality, physicality, and the spiritual realm, as well as the interplay between external beauty and inner essence. This exploration occurs within a framework that celebrates the brilliance of the courtesan, a strong and liberated woman. The courtesan praises the virtues of her lover, whether it be the king, a nobleman always present, or a deity imagined to be present. Passionately pleading about her burning desires, the varnams poetically and vividly express her longings. The chief courtesans, some of whom are still remembered today, who danced in the Durbar, were independent and talented dancers, composers, singers, musicians, and poets. The court dancer was not a mindless, weak woman pining away for a man.
The lyrics of the varnams carry a “tongue-in-cheek” quality, infused with subtle sarcasm, witty remarks, and innuendo. The rajah and the esteemed audience members, along with the nattuvans and courtesans, would comprehend the underlying layers of meaning. They clearly had fun, and it’s evident that they didn’t take the lyrics or themselves too seriously.
The courtesan’s burning desire remains relevant even today. Do we not all experience those so-called “pangs of separation” when we are apart from someone for an extended period? Have we not all loved and lost? Or encountered unrequited love? As long as feelings of desire and love exist, these varnams will retain their relevance. The challenge, however, lies in capturing and portraying the complexities of both body and soul, sexuality and love. The protagonist in the Tanjore Quartet varnams is a fearless woman who bravely expresses her genuine emotions and physical yearnings.
Varnam: Mōha Lāhiri Kondēn Sāmi
In this article, I have chosen to extensively explore one pada varnam from the Tanjore Quartet, specifically ‘mōha lāhiri kondēn sāmi’ in raga todi, composed by Sivanandam.
Sivanandam (1808-1863) was a versatile artist skilled in playing the veena, composing music, singing, and dancing, and was well-versed in the art of Abhinaya. He provided training to court and temple dancers, including male dancers. Sivanandam composed a collection of exquisite varnams, some of which praised Sevajee. These compositions include ‘dāni sāti pōti lēdura’ (Todi), ‘sārasa sikhāmani’ (Kalyani), ‘sāmiyai azhaithu vādi’ (Kalyani), ‘pantamēla’ (Anandabhairavi), and the unparalleled musical and lyrical masterpiece, ‘dāniké’ in raga Todi. At the premiere, ‘dāni ké’ received tremendous praise from the rajah, who proclaimed it as an unmatched varnam in todi.
From the 1940s onwards, the renowned dance master Tanjavur K.P. Kittappa, a direct descendant of the Tanjore Quartet (Kittappa nattuvanar being the great-great-grandson of Sivanandam), brought to light the compositions of his ancestors and adapted them for the proscenium stage. One of these compositions is the todi varnam, ‘mōha lāhiri kondēn sāmi.’ Kittappa nattuvanar approached the composition by focusing on the human interactions between lovers. The varnam delves into the emotions of a courtesan and her intense desire and longing for her absent lover, Rajagopala. She passionately appeals for his return, yearning for physical intimacy and to be united with her beloved. The verses of the varnam intricately blend the erotic and the spiritual elements. At first glance, with around a hundred and twenty words, the varnam may seem simple, but a serious study reveals its beautifully nuanced and layered lyrics, making it a composition with unlimited potential. The subtle layers of underlying meaning provide ample scope for a dancer’s imagination to showcase the poetry in motion through the art of Abhinaya, hand gestures, and body language. For this particular varnam, Kittappa nattuvanar insisted on a continuous mid-tempo pace (Madhyalaya) from beginning to end. Slowing down the lyrics of the purvanga (first half of the composition) after each theermanam, as often done today, adds unnecessary seriousness and dramatics to the words. Similarly, a faster pace would disrupt the intended message of the varnam. It is crucial to study this varnam, and any other varnam of the quartet, in its entirety, including the last caranam sahityam, which is often omitted in performances, even if the dancer chooses not to perform the final stanza. The varnams reach a logical climax only in the last caranam, which often reveals the true intended emotions of the composition. While it is not necessary to perform the last caranam lyric, studying it allows the dancer to keep those feelings in mind and do justice to the overall message of the varnam.
A Lover’s Paradise
Some elaborations (beyond padartha or literal meaning) of the lyrics of the varnam—mōha lāhiri kondēn sāmi—illustrate the tenets of these songs of desire sung as were it in a lovers’ paradise:
mōha lāhiri kondēn sāmi mōdi ceyādē metta “My desire for you has no beginning or end! I can only think of you! My lover, on this full moon evening at the river bank, the night is magic … The slight cool breeze of the incipient night brushes against my face … I am intoxicated … intoxicated with waves of passion! Now that the evening has set in … the flower buds have closed and the wind is cool … the time is perfect … I want to make love! I cannot sleep the night alone with your gentle touch on my mind … The spirit of desire has unleashed a fragrant Ashoka upon my bosom … What shall I do now? Ecstasy has filled my mind … and I am trembling with desire … I keep on hearing the sound of your ankle bells in the distance of the forest … thinking you have come to meet me … My eyes long to see you, even if just for a minute … It has been a long, long time … but I have memorised your golden face … and the first time that you touched me … was I prone to misery? The first time that you kissed me … am I blessed by the mystery of your lips? The last time that you touched me … how much sorrow can I take? Was it heaven that led me to you? I cannot say … Oh my lover, shall I no longer believe it? Was our passion just a sad and sorry dream? Is the night to be tragic, without you sharing it? Am I cursed by the love I received? Now tell me, why do you pretend to be otherwise engaged? … has this desire separated us? Shall I find no other if this love is over? No other lover can compare to you … but my loveliness is incomparable in the universe! I am no ordinary woman! As you are right for me, I am certainly right for you! We have already wasted so many days … I no longer want to argue with my desire! Give me a sign … or else what difference does your indifference make? nāgarīgalōlā nannaya mākrupālā nī ganashree rājagōpālā nīta vēda gīta nātan nī tāndā “My loverboy, king of mischief! My beau! O, a gracious lad of dvārakā … Celebrated by all! Now do not think you are unbeknownst to me, compassionate King! I have dreamt of you even before you came into my life! Long ago, when our time was new … we kissed … was it fair to walk away? Even if, for one last time, can I taste the sweet nectar of your full delicious lips? Or are your kisses no longer mine? My beloved … the mesmerising sound of your bansuri has even the humming bees in a trance! Spellbound by desire, we danced the night away … but now our passion has made me restless … remember … you are mine alone! We are not separated … I have to tell the world!” vāsa māmalar mēdai thanil oyilāy iru manathil kapatenna coll iru tanamisai navakalabha madiyanin isāipāda vilaiyāda nithamumthāda…mōha lāhiri kondēn sāmi mōdi ceyādē metta… “I dreamt of you in this secret bower filled with creepers … asleep on a bed of lotus leaves and garlands … I want our dance of romance to never end … If only I could have you like this every night! I woke up thrilled, but while I slept your promise was unkept … I am still alone and consumed by my longing for you … My king of kings, bedecked with precious gems of the crescent moon … I am overcome by intense desire … gently caress my bosom and make love to me … come and rest beside me … my compassionate lover … I have to understand the distance between us … tell me what the murmuring is in your mind … is it something unfavourable to me? Barely touching each other … while we should be one! Or are we loving strangers? Beneath the stars and the moon … I do not want to sit here wasting my time … I do not want to think back of us with indifference! What I feel for you has become unbearable, king of my heart … Assuming you do not belong to another … come thither and give me your kiss of life! I am intoxicated … Intoxicated with waves of passion! O Sami, what am I to do now? Give me a sign … Or else what difference does your indifference make?”
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Tanjavur Quartet Natyam
Padartha of Mohalahiri (todi adi) sathirdance©2019
mohalahiri konden saami modi seyyaathe meththa
moha (desire) lahiri (waves of) konden (to be, I have) saami (lord, lover) modi (lack of harmony, indifference, don’t do) seyyaathe (to do, doing) meththa (so much)
“My lover! You are a fountain of love. You are the source of all love. I’m overflowing with intense desire for you! The ‘malaya marutham’ blows a cool evening breeze, flower buds have closed, kokilas are mating, this is the right time for us to make love! Why do you pretend to be indifferent? Do not play this much with my heart! Come quickly!”
naagareeka lola nannaya krupaalaa ganashree rajagopala neetha veda geetha naathan nee thanda
naagareeka (civilised, cultured, enlightened) lola (he who engages in love-play, beau, lover) nannaya (good quality, beautiful) krupaalaa (graceful, compassionate gracious lord) ganashree (mighty and blessed, celebrated) Rajagopala (Gopala) neetha veda (the just, sacred) geetha (Bhagavad-Gita) naathan (like him, him) nee thanda (you are that, have given to us)
“Oh! Enlightened, handsome, mischievous, my beau, Rajagopala! Sami of ‘dakshina dvārakā, you move in a cultured manner full of grace. You engage in love play. It is you who gave us the scriptures and music.”
vaasa maa-malar medai thanil oyilai iru manathil kapatenna – coll irutanamisai navakalabha madiyanin isaaipada vilaiyaada nidamumthaada
vaasa (fragrant, scented) maa-malar (much fully bloomed flowers) medai thanil (on a swing, bed of flowers) oyilai (gracefully, elegant) iru (the two of them, seated, resting) manathil (in the mind, soul within) kapatenna (what’s the murmur, guilt, sin) – coll (sholl – please say, tell) irutanamisai (two, breasts, on) navakalabha (all nine precious gems) madiyanin (wearing) isaaipada (to sing) vilaiyaada (and to play, sex play) nidamumthaada (come thither daily and kiss me)
“In this ‘bower’ filled with filled with creepers, now sit casually on a bed of fragrant scented flowers; a love seat. Elegantly you sit there bedecked with precious gems. What is in your heart? Which thoughts run through your mind? Not favourable to me? Please tell me if I have done something! I have waited for you, while music and singing goes on; wearing precious gems, please kiss me, touch my breasts, and make love to me always!”
kaaman kanaiyai en melayya
kaaman (manmatha) kanaiyai (arrows) en (on) melayya (shoots on me)
“Alas, that wretched Kāmadeva has shot his flowery arrow at my bosom! Oh Sami, I’m overflowing with desire! Will you not come now?!”
neshamana duraiye adamena sholl
neshamana (my beloved, most loving) duraiye (lord of mine) adamena (adam+enna why adamant, stubborn) sholl (tell me)
“Oh Sami, why are you so stubborn at this time? Tell me what is in your heart!”
malaip-pozhudinil velai oli sheyyum sholaik-kuyiliship-pada malaittida
malaip-pozhudinil (at that time, the dusk of the day) velai (evening, that time) oli (sound) sheyyum (making, to do) sholaik-kuyiliship-pada (the Kokilas sing) malaittida (to lose mind, stunned)
“Oh Sami, at that time, in the evening, in the garden, the Kokilas mate before the night arrives, I’m losing my mind. You still have not come!”
ma dayala gunakara catura madhura vacana kopamenna shol nijamai enadidamai paravaravum kana mayakkamum krtaravum shilaiyai valaittu
ma (big – as in: big heart, giver, mighty) dayala (giver, kind man, compassionate) gunakara (good qualities, good nature) catura (capable, clever) madhura (sweet, honey like) vacana (talk) kopamenna (why this anger, cause of) shol (tell me) nijamai (the truth – nijam means truthfully) enadidamai (to me, on me) paravaravum (that which spreads, or gets distributed) kana mayakkamum (that faint for a split second, intoxicated) krtaravum (to lament) shilaiyai (the bow of, statue like beautiful girl) valaittu (caught me in a net, damsel)
“Oh Sami! You are a man with a big heart and compassion. You are a capable man and your talk is sweet like honey. Tell me the truth, why this anger? My desire for you is intense and I feel great sorrow by your absence. For a split second lament, for I am a damsel caught in cupid’s net of flowery arrows, overflowing with desire for you!”
All Rights Reserved © 2008-2018
Sathir Dance Art Trust Amsterdam © 2008–2018. All Rights Reserved.
The text, photos, and video of this essay are protected by copyright.
Reproduction, in part or in whole, is strictly prohibited without prior written permission from the author/publisher.
Sathir Dance Art 