Srinidhi Chidambaram Photo: R. Ragu
Each dancer over time develops a personal style. Srinidhi Chidambaram has a compact one, the scrupulous neatness of line based on a grounded approach, with hardly any pronounced stretches — alidham and pratyalidham, sarukkais and the veeshara adavus, or leaps compulsively covering stage space.
After a quiet start with a Tanjore Quartet jatiswaram in Saveri set to rupakam, she chose as centerpiece the Swati Tirunal varnam in Kapi, ‘Suma Sayaka’, also in rupakam, the theme visualising the conventional nayika pining for Lord Padmanabha through the long seasons of summer, winter and the rains.
The dancer opted for interventions both in the pallavi and anupallavi passages through lines from popular Malayalam padams. With a singer such as Radha Badri changing ragas with velvety smoothness, the selected compositions, ‘Panimati Mukhi Bale’ in Ahiri, ‘Alasara Parithapam’ in Suratti, ‘Poonthen Nermozhi’ in Anandabhairavi, and ‘Kaantanodu’ in Neelambari — all reaffirming the picture of the nayika in pangs of separation. In Srinidhi’s interpretation with the linking teermanam passages done to Swamimalai Suresh’s nattuvangam had all the technical finesse. But one needs to treat with caution this manner of morphing and breaking the continuity of a varnam as set down by the composer. Not denying an artist’s right to innovative forays, I still favour the varnam in its entirety as conceived by the vaggeyakara, not being tampered with.
The post-varnam phase, with Srinidhi turning out in a tasteful costume (entailing too long a break, despite an excellent instrumental interlude), saw the inner dancer speak with greater fervour. She danced to chosen Silappadikaram verses from one of the chapters referring to the riddle that is Krishna — The Bearer of the entire Universe — allowing himself to be tied by Mother Yashoda, one who could satisfy the hunger of millions with a morsel of food, stealthily partaking of the Gopi’s butter and curd, one whose feet in three strides measured the entire Universe, walking to the Kauravas to plead the case of the Pandavas. The lines “Vadavaraiyai mattaakki vaasukiyai naanaakki’ immortalised in M.S.Subbalakshmi’s music interpreted evocatively, ended with the devotee asking ‘of what use — eyes, ears and tongue that cannot see, hear and speak the Lord’s praises?’ Radha’s singing provided an inspirational take-off point. The involvement continued in the next piece, dedicated to the people affected by the recent floods, based on a modern poem, with a score devised by Suresh and nritta interludes by mridangist Vijayaraghavan. The straightforward narrative visualised rain, too much of it, and the suffering humanity, addressing the elements on why they were being subjected to such devastation — with some ecological truths that Nature will react when treated so long with insensitivity. In a contrastingly joyous end, came the Lalgudi tillana.
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