ART, THE CREATOR OF ART, the final outcome of the artistic process, and the relationship among the three has been explored by artists and aestheticians since time immemorial. In fact, the fundamental question in Aesthetics is this: what makes something beautiful and appealing?
The enduring myth of Pygmalion in Ovid’s Metamorphoses where a brilliant sculptor falls in love with his own creation and ends up marrying her has passed through countless interpretations. It continues to attract creative people even today and will do so in future as well.
Myths, like idioms have the great, inbuilt power of sādhāraṇīkaraṇa (or universalization. This technical term in Indian aesthetics is used in this essay in a generic and wider sense), which makes them highly malleable and offers unlimited possibilities for creative exploration in various art forms.
We hardly need to mention the limitless number of myths and legends in Indian epics and Puranas that have similarly lent themselves to equally countless interpretations, a process that is still ongoing. In our own time, Dr. S L Bhyrappa’s major novels like Dāṭu, Parva, Sākṣi, Mandra, Tabbaliyu nīnāde māgane , Nāyī Neralu and Tantu are outstanding works showcasing the extraordinary usage of Puranic myths, metaphors, symbolism, etc.
Perhaps one of the best investigations into the aforementioned relationship among art, artist and artistry has been carried out — once again — by Dr. S L Bhyrappa in his classic novel Mandra. Using Indian classical music as its central theme, the novel explores the entire realm of music — its learning, pursuit, its creation process, and the musician himself. Mandra is both art and art criticism.
In the realm of aesthetic appreciation and criticism, India has produced a truly oceanic output — both in volume and quality, and spread over at least three thousand years — beginning with Bharatamuni’s Natya Shastra to Sri Sediyappu Krishna Bhatta to Shatavadhani Dr. Ganesh. From this perspective, it’s instructive to glean the fundamental Indian approach to aesthetics, which is encompassed in the conception of Rasa.
In his invaluable volume titled Art Experience, Prof M. Hiriyanna gives us some priceless insight into Indian Aesthetics.
"…the Sanskrit word for poetry, viz., Kavya…is equally applicable to verse as well as to prose…it is explained as kavi-karma…poetry is what the poet writes… in this respect…it shifts the question from poetry to the poet… The common view of the poet is to regard him as a creator or maker… His skill does not consist in selecting the salient features of an existing situation and portraying them exactly as they are, but rather in creating new situations… the poet's work involves the invention of many new elements; and it is for this reason that in Sanskrit literature the poet is often found compared to the Creator and the Creator to the poet… It is this transcending of self-consciousness…that constitutes the secret of aesthetic delight. The highest function of the poet who easily rises to this mood is to communicate the same to us… It is this wholly unique experience that is termed rasa in Sanskrit…
Poetry then is to be regarded first and foremost as a means of securing a spell of detachment from common life and not for any lessons or 'criticism of life' it may contain. There is no doubt that it has many such lessons for us and that their value is great. But they are only the further good resulting from poetic experience and not the good which that experience itself is… This Rasanubhava or aesthetic experience is to be preferred not only to whatever good may result from it, but also…to the very writing of poetry."
This conception of and approach towards aesthetics is applicable to all creative art forms including cinema.
K.Viswanath is undoubtedly one of the most accomplished practitioner of this approach, an echo of which is found in an emotionally-charged scene in his classic movie, Sagara Sangamam (1983). In the scene, the protagonist, an accomplished classical dancer played by Kamal Haasan, directly quotes a celebrated verse from the Natya Sastra: “yato hastastato dṛṣṭih… yato bhāvaḥstato rasaḥ” Viswanath’s artistry lies in the fact that the viewer is not being taught a lesson in the Natya Sastra but is immersed in the movie’s story. The verse that occurs in the scene is a very small fraction of the Natya Sastra, fused beautifully into the plot.
It is also important to remember that Indian classical art is unique in one respect: at the time of its creation, it is highly individualistic — i.e., it depends on the artist’s talent, skill and learning — but is community or society-oriented at the time of its enjoyment and appreciation. Thus, when a singer of Indian classical music performs an ālapana, it is spontaneous, impromptu — no two ālapanas of the same raga by the same singer is the same. However, the gathering of connoisseurs appreciates different ālapanas of the same raga for a wide variety of reasons.
This is why all such classical artistic creations constitute Marga and their appreciation, Desi. But owing to voluminous Left-inspired theorizing over the last century, a pervasive notion has emerged which places Marga in opposition to Deshi. To state this even more bluntly, Marga has somehow been equated with “Brahminical” and therefore it is something to be reviled and rejected. Indeed, nothing could be farther from the truth.
The term Marga, meaning “search” or “quest,” has numerous connotations such as “passage,” “classical,” “Samskara,” and Bharatiya.
The term Deshi (derived from the Sanskrit, dishyate iti deshi) means “regional,” “dialect,” “idiom,” “presentation,” used in the sense of revealing something.
Thus, when Marga falls in the realm of creativity, it becomes Deshi and when Deshi is codified, it becomes Marga. The two have a clear, symbiotic relationship. This is akin to the codification of a collection of random words into language, which has clear rules of grammar.
It is therefore clear that both complement each other: the fulfilment of Deshi occurs in its fusion with Marga.
K. VISWANATH’S CINEMA brings out this artistic harmony by employing a heightened sense of creativity.
As an immediate example, one can cite his Apadbandhavudu (1992) in which the protagonist is an unschooled Deshi youth played by Chiranjeevi. He invests strenuous efforts and incurs great personal costs to publish the Marga poetic compositions of his master.
This same harmony is also reflected in Deshi lyrics and song picturizations of Govullu tellana Gopayya nallana (Saptapadi, 1981), Aura ammaka chella (Apadbandhavudu), Suvvi suvvi, Taalibottu testanani (Swati Muthyam, 1985) and so on.
What is also striking is the natural manner in which Viswanath unfailingly includes snippets and episodes from the Ramayana, Mahabharata, Puranas, classical poetry and Telugu folklore in dialogue, ambience (for e.g., in a temple, the bank of a sacred river, etc), lyric, and song delivered through Deshi characters.
We can cite the washerwoman scene in Swati Muthyam as well as several sequences from Sutradharulu as representative examples of this. Laali Laali, the fabled lullaby in Swati Muthyam set to lyrics that are simple yet deeply-rooted in our tradition and cultural heritage, is a miniature of K. Viswanath’s creativity at its peak. The lullaby is meant for the infant; it is also meant for the infant’s father whose mental growth is that of a child.
In most of his movies after Siri Siri Muvva, Viswanath has also infused Marga elements. For example, in scenes showing the traditional chanting of the Vedic Mantrapushpam, the Ghanapāṭi who recites the Veda in Swarnakamalam, the Vedic blessing of Shatamanam Bhavati, using Bhartrhari’s verse in Jayanti te sukrtino in Sagara Sangamam, Vedic ceremonies and Puja, the temple culture and the profound spiritual ambience of the Godavari belt.
A particularly poignant scene in Sagara Sangamam comes to mind.
To be continued
The Dharma Dispatch is now available on Telegram! For original and insightful narratives on Indian Culture and History, subscribe to us on Telegram.