Why Svanubhava 2015 was special

The latest edition of Svanubhava, a performing arts’ festival in Chennai, originally ideated by TM Krishna, as a festival by, of, and for students, and ably enacted and executed by a growing handful of youngsters, was an act of novelty and courage...

In the dark, quiet of the night, at the stroke of midnight, on August 7, Kalakshetra’s Rukmini Arangham – rustic, unfussy, and enveloped in the smoky aroma of the traditional Sambrani (a perfumed powder known as benzoin resin in English) – became the go-to spot for Svanubhava, a performing arts festival ideated, curated and executed, almost completely by a growing handful of young students of the arts, a few among whom are disciples of the Chennai-based classical musician, TM Krishna.

For the core committee of Svanubhava, this edition was special – an innovation, an experiment – from the point of view of form; a midnight-to-midnight festival, Svanubhava ’15, perhaps a first in the context of the arts in Chennai, unleashed a brand new possibility in the space of festivals and their curation.

Eight years ago, fuelled by a desire and to fulfil the dire need for a performance festival that wholly and solely allowed students – of the arts, and those with a nose for it – TM Krishna and a handful of youngsters, began Svanubhava. Since its inception, the festival has assumed a character of its own – along its journey, it has also travelled to many a city and country – Delhi, Bangalore, Coimbatore, Tirchy, Sri Lanka – enabling students of the arts to soak in a festival that in a sense, speaks to them.

Credit for that must go to the curatorial team. On the morning of August 7, at 9.30, following an all-religion prayer under the famous banyan tree in the Kalakshetra, Arangham became the venue for Vina Venu Violin, a performance by Vishal Sapuram (Vina), JB Sruti Sagar (flute) and Parur MS Ananthakrishnan (violin), accompanied ably by Sumesh S Narayanan (mridangam), G Harihara Sharma (kanjira) and V Sai Subramaniam (morsing). It was the atmosphere at this concert that was, in a sense, symbolic of the very purpose and being of Svanubhava. In an auditorium packed to the brim, essentially by students – college and school – a band of boys, all with prodigious talent, showcased their skills on their respective instruments, individually and collectively, and in a manner that made the music accessible and enjoyable. There was no compromise on the content or its quality; it was pure from start to finish, and no one, mind you, stirred in the audience.

And then, Chennai-based dancer, Jayanthi Subramanian’s ensemble presented Jothirgamaya, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, a dance-theatre, in Bharatanatyam. A poignant narrative with the possibility of fascinating movements and expression, the production sparkled not merely in the sensitivity with which it had adapted a story and moulded it into a traditional dance form, but also because of the natural ease with which it engaged with its audience, allowing them access the form, participate in its plot, appreciate the beautiful lines and formations and feel enriched by a story, well-told!

Workshops in dance, photography, art and theatre, formed the afternoon components of the festival; conducted across different spaces of the luscious green campus, the workshops engaged with students in small groups and enabled both individual and collective sharing of the arts. And when the sun came down, at Padma Pushkarani, the pond at the Kalakshetra, became the seat for a Carnatic performance by Gayatri Venkataraghavan. At 10pm, until midnight, Delhi-based Aditi Mangaldas Dance Company, filled the air with the poetry and romance of Kathak.

At 11.30pm, just when one of the Company’s dancers, pined away for a union with her beloved, the dancing clouds broke out into heavy showers... Almost like a thunderous applause for a festival filled with purpose and courage of conviction.

Ideas and innovation are much-needed in the world of the arts and yet, the midnight possibility, in a sense, eliminated participation by young students who may have otherwise had the opportunity to witness the Rukmini Kalyanam, a traditional, near-dwindling folk form called the Bhagavata Mela by an all-male ensemble from Melattur, a tiny village in Tamil Nadu. I wish sleep hadn’t engulfed me so I could listen to the strains of the Nadhaswaram by acclaimed Vyasarpadi G Kothandaraman. I wish the tea tasted better, and there were more food stalls – pani puri for breakfast was a bit of a dampener – so I could be a part of every act.

I’m sure the core committee slept through Saturday to overcome the exhaustion of 24 hours! The team deserves every minute of rest for being brave, going through the rigour with sanctity that is befitting both the arts and the venue, and for staging an act that will go down in the history of contemporary performing arts in Chennai as pioneering a possibility...