The politics of classical recitals: A proscenium perspective

Introduction

The cultural practice of attending a concert that features indigenous classical art far exceeds the desire to witness the artistic brilliance of the exponents taking the stage, but is embedded in complexities that mark such recitals as spaces of power and hegemony.

Pune, with its varied socio-political histories is often recognised as an educational and culture centre, celebrated for its carefully cultivated identity by its upper-caste, upper-class literati through multiple practices, one of which is the celebration of classical art. Two festivals have endured in this city as markers of the pre-eminence of classical legacies, who can consume the classical and what form of the classical can take itself to the stage: the Shaniwarwada and the Sawai Gandharva Bhimsen Mahotsav.

Both events are spectacularly organised affairs held on grand podiums erected in large open spaces, with excellent lighting and sound systems, fountains and flowers and a number of food stalls. The music and dance galore generally takes place over the course of a weekend and is every bit similar to the NH7 weekender or the Sunburn Festival in scale and grandeur, yet is completely different. For one, the classical art festivals most often than not are attended by the crème de la crème of the city’s political and social circles, who either inaugurate, sponsor or feature the galas in their particular manner.

Along with displays of art and culture, the festivals are also an assertion and preservation of the aesthetic legacies that ‘truly’ represent Indian culture. To look at both Shaniwarwada and Sawai Gandharva, the former a celebration of dance and the latter of Carnatic and Hindustani music, is to therefore delineate not simply the subliminal messaging of the festivals but also what constitutes the formulation of the festivals on the bedrock of cultural identities.

In attempting doing so, I will be looking at three aspects of the festivals: the stage and the artists performing on the proscenium, the rasika or the connoisseur who comes to attend the recitals and the unspoken dialogue between the artists and their audiences.

In the first entry, a look at the proscenium and the artists invited to showcase their performance:

A cursory look at the line-up of musicians, dancers and vocalists who have performed at either of the two festivals over the course of the last many years reveals a lot about the hegemonic structures that continue to rule the realm of the classical.

Most artists who step on to the stage hold substantive performative power and what has the audience in thrall is not simply the exemplary exploration of art, music and choreography but also the persona of the artiste taking the stage. Artistes from upper-caste communities, having gathered their knowledge through the rigours of the guru-shishya parampara display their cultural and artistic standing through their ability of honing emerging talent, and their ability to gather a troupe of senior performers to step onto such an esteemed podium.

So also, the artists present a recital governed by structures of its own. Pune is home to some of its most renowned exponents of Kathak, so inevitably one of the spectacles at such recitals is Kathak. It is almost always accompanied by Bharatnatyam, for this dance form has its roots in the 20th century nationalist movement and the subsequent transformation of Sadir into Bharatnatyam, as a dance of Bharat.

Other recitals include renditions of Odissi like Gotipua or even the sublime Mohiniyattam. The rest, like Manipuri, Sattriya or even Kuchipudi are far and few in between.

Everything from the line-up of artists to the stage arrangement to the performers themselves thus emanates structures within structures. The stage itself gives off an aura which suggests that what the audiences are about to witness is refined art, it is complex, intellectual, layered, high-brow and although it is open to everyone, it is in fact supposed to be attended by the elites or those aspiring to be the elites: because its is only elites who can consume and appreciate the high art of the classical.

The numbers of such audiences attending Shaniwarwada are in the hundreds, the audiences for Savai Gandharva are even bigger but what they come to witness is a cultural phenomenon that reinforces what it means to truly witness Indian art.

By suggesting that classical is true art, that it is the art of the intellectuals, of the educated among the literate, classical artists too acquire recognition for the kind of art they chose to train in and what it denotes. The artist’s image is carved out to be as formal and dignified as the gilded arches of the prosceniums themselves.

Furthermore, these artists are seen to follow protocols that play right into such an identity formation. As such they are clad in specific costumes, their abhinaya is refined and sanitised just enough to suit the gentry, shringara is most often than not an extension of bhakti, rather than an exploration of sexuality.

The stage itself, with a burning oil lamp in a corner and the fragrance of so many incense sticks wafting across its length is converted into something pure, pristine and unmaligned by the infiltration of western music or even Hindi cinema (read: Bollywood) made for mass consumption.

Advertisers and sponsors of the festivals too are usually local, upper-caste, upper-class jewellery, clothing and snack brands describing how the art festivals resonate their own brand values immersed in celebrating the cultural heritage of the city that is almost always marked by caste distinctions.

The locations at which the festivals take place are perhaps the most telling of this social and cultural hegemony. Hosted in premises right in the heart of the city, the stage for the music concert is set on a large ground surrounded by little winding lanes and narrow entryways, causing a traffic jam which is seldom upsetting, because after all it is the Savai Gandharva. 

As for the Shaniwarwada, it is held in the wada itself, the home of the Peshwas, the upper-caste leadership that ruled Pune for generations. The stage speaks of the hegemonic Brahminical hold over the city so that while in the erstwhile Peshwai, the Shaniwarwada was the centre of actual power, now, it legitimises the Brahminical order prevalent in Pune by becoming a heritage site celebrating classical art.

To my mind, classical is never a predetermined identity. It is always in flux and keeps shifting and reimagining its contours to include aesthetic styles that are then formalised but are nonetheless filled with a rich and vibrant repertoire. What is curious however is the appropriation of these styles as high-brow, as classy not massy and the grand spectacles of such 'dignified' concerts which reinforce the image of the classical artists and their stage almost as something divine and unapproachable.