Difference between revisions of "1880"
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| − | Those years, of the early 80's, Kirloskar's Natak company had taken the world by storm. I was too young to be taken to see anything, but I | + | Those years, of the early 80's, Kirloskar's Natak company had taken the world by storm. I was too young to be taken to see anything, but I was rapt with the theatre of the Mahanagar, the city of Bombay itself. I was told stories of Annasaheb's performance, people who had not been to the show, and most of our family and neighbours had not- felt that they could talk about it, so full of pride and wonder did accounts of the event make everyone! Marathi theatre had come into its own, everyone said, had learnt from Parsee and British theatre to tell our own particular stories with our songs, our kind of acting. |
Kirloskar conquered Bombay like that city was conquering me. | Kirloskar conquered Bombay like that city was conquering me. | ||
| − | ( Suddenly, the studio turns a somersault and swings from side to side, as though in a circus tent. The city of Bombay, its spectacle, flies across the skies at the windows of a studio that has become a trapeze artist. At upside down angles, sometimes making a diagonal with the windows, sometimes running across like a diorama, Gothic architecture, a gas air balloon with Tukaram singing in it, a row of marching policemen in three quarter shorts, stare back at the breathless onlookers. And then, in a momentary silence and a darkness that falls over the windows, a sun comes up- it is a large clock that is being slowly hoisted up on an intricate machinery. It radiates an imperial light as it goes, like | + | ( Suddenly, the studio turns a somersault and swings from side to side, as though in a circus tent. The city of Bombay, its spectacle, flies across the skies at the windows of a studio that has become a trapeze artist. At upside down angles, sometimes making a diagonal with the windows, sometimes running across like a diorama, Gothic architecture, a gas air balloon with Tukaram singing in it, a row of marching policemen in three quarter shorts, stare back at the breathless onlookers. And then, in a momentary silence and a darkness that falls over the windows, a sun comes up- it is a large clock that is being slowly hoisted up on an intricate machinery. It radiates an imperial light as it goes, like Melies' sun. Once the sun has assumed its place over the world, it begins to chime Handel's Symophony/Auld Lang Syne in 16 bells.) |
Revision as of 21:10, 9 July 2009
Lord Rippon- Viceroy of India
Phalke writing in the studio.
Dada:
Today, in the debris of our unfulfilled days, weighed down with the cares of this profession which is proving to be treacherous, no, I should not say that, rather, that it is dependent of investors who are too anxious to make money and have no regard for anything like detail and perfection .. Dealing with those buffets dealt by these businessmen with no vision- In the middle of all this insanity, I participated in a small home production with my wife and children- an enactment of Shakuntala. Sarasvati played Shakuntala and I could see how happy the children were with that decision, to see their homely mother as a comely maiden, but when the time came to cast me, both Prabhakar and Babaraya wanted me to play Durvasa, while they played the king of Hastinapur.
I suppose it is only right. After all, she is a child before my ageing self, this mother of my children, who has had to grow up before her time to look after my needs, perhaps I can only play a Durvasa to her Shakuntala. I added a beard to my face to give the whole thing some more authenticity, to teach them that which I believe in and which is all I have to give them- namely, a respect for detail, an industriousness and the pursuit of perfection. The boys were merry to see me, undoubtedly a villain in their daily lives, looking like this strange mendicant with bowl in my hand, but I noticed my daughter, usually so forthcoming around me, shied away in shock and Neelkanth, who hovers about like her shadow, started crying.
Sarasvati surprised me (smiles) with her spirited acting. She comes to life in the presence of her children, never so much before me. She sat on the doorway of our inner room, like a sad Shakuntala and fondled Neelkanth's head, as though he was Shakuntala's fawn, in her lap.
The fawn starts upon seeing Durvasa, but Shakuntala pays no heed. Durvasa calls out, once, twice, and then loses his temper. A song starts an exchange between Durvasa and Shakuntala.
(Meanwhile, the studio is flying through time, at the windows a large painted backdrop is rolling, rolling across, with a large forest painted across like a backdrop for Shakuntala, the green shade of trees with vines clinging to them and hanging over, a large still lake in the distance, a row of tamarind trees, the backdrop unfurls to give Shakuntala a context. )
Phalke, writing:
Those years, of the early 80's, Kirloskar's Natak company had taken the world by storm. I was too young to be taken to see anything, but I was rapt with the theatre of the Mahanagar, the city of Bombay itself. I was told stories of Annasaheb's performance, people who had not been to the show, and most of our family and neighbours had not- felt that they could talk about it, so full of pride and wonder did accounts of the event make everyone! Marathi theatre had come into its own, everyone said, had learnt from Parsee and British theatre to tell our own particular stories with our songs, our kind of acting. Kirloskar conquered Bombay like that city was conquering me.
( Suddenly, the studio turns a somersault and swings from side to side, as though in a circus tent. The city of Bombay, its spectacle, flies across the skies at the windows of a studio that has become a trapeze artist. At upside down angles, sometimes making a diagonal with the windows, sometimes running across like a diorama, Gothic architecture, a gas air balloon with Tukaram singing in it, a row of marching policemen in three quarter shorts, stare back at the breathless onlookers. And then, in a momentary silence and a darkness that falls over the windows, a sun comes up- it is a large clock that is being slowly hoisted up on an intricate machinery. It radiates an imperial light as it goes, like Melies' sun. Once the sun has assumed its place over the world, it begins to chime Handel's Symophony/Auld Lang Syne in 16 bells.)
New King in Travancore, he suggests to Ravi Varma that he paint Sita Bhoomipravesam. At the same time, the eagerness of the visiting Governor of Madras to meet Ravi Varma makes the king, Vishakam Thirunal, jealous. The power structures between the three, the visiting Governor, the King whose state is in danger of lapsing to the British, and the local painter whose fame has crossed regional boundaries.. lead to an 'incident'. Unable to sit before his sovereign, Ravi Varma keeps standing, the King keeps standing in deference to the British Governor, and to the respect that the Governor is giving to the local painter.. the Governor probably just stands in protocol, since the other two will not sit.. and so, Ravi Varma falls out of favour with the king, retires to his wife's estate, and in a while, decides to travel.
Dewan T. Madhav Rao visited Travancore.
Ravi Varma's brother Raja Varma joins him his works sometime in the 1880's. He keeps a diary of their travels and experiences. They elaborated for themselves the European method of touching and re touching paintings till they reached some kind of satisfactory perfection.
Governor of Madras: your Highness, I am so very eager to meet the famous painter Ravi Varma
His Highness: Indeed, surely, we shall summon him
Governor of Madras: I am a devoted fan, he even painted an amazing likeness of me last year, my wife has been known to talk to it ha ha ha- of course he must have done many such portraits of you
His Highness: Indeed surely, he has done many such portraits
Governor of Madras: He is a rare treasure, a talent of distinction, a star in the crown of her Majesty.. and your crown of course.
His Highness: Yes, my crown, of course.
Governor of Madras: If one did not know with absolute certainity and I know it now of course, I would never have believed that this is the work of an Indian. It can compete with some fine specimens of Europe you know
His Highness: Yes, fine specimen of Europe.
Ravi Varma has entered and is standing a small distance behind, listening, looking crestfallen. As soon as he sees Ravi Varma, the Englishman leaps to his feet.
As soon as he sees the Englishman leap to his feet, His Highness stands up
Ravi Varma continues to stand.
Governor, Englishman: Ah there he is!! The prince of painters, indeed a king among painters and can there be a better royalty than that? Ah there you are, prince among painters
His Highness considers the words: Prince..
Ravi Varma is shaking his head and unable to speak.
Englishman, Governor, subject of Ravi Varma's painting the previous year: Ahhh sit down Ravi Varma
The king does not look at Ravi Varma
Ravi Varma does not look at the king
Neither sits down
Nor does the Englishman.
We see now that the court has been at attention, men in dignified dresses, standing up all along.
The Governor has begun to look restless, he starts rubbing his English boots against one another, as though fully concentrating on removing the dust.
Everyone is standing still. Ravi Varma bows low and leaves the gathered assembly. No one moves. He walks among the men who stand like they are also pillars in the hall, and into the silence outside, of empty corridors, and then, the road. His face reflects the tension of the breach of protocol.
He walks thus, on and on, and faces the sea of Bombay. He sees a passing buggy, gets into it, and gives him the address of his studio.
Sayaji Rao marries Laxmibai of Tanjore. Since she is coming into a Marathi family, she is renamed. Her new name is Chimnabai. The young Chimna speaks neither Marathi nor Gujrati, but has the most liquid, talkative eyes that Sayaji has ever seen. Two young dancers, Gaura, and Sarada, have come with her to Baroda. Two nattuvanars and two teachers, Vadivelu and Sabhapati, complete the procession.
The young queen continues her study and practice of dance in an inner chamber of the palace. And one langorous afternoon, Sayaji is the sole audience of a performance, when the three women dance for him. The nattuvanars keep step with cymbals, and sing, looking steadily at the dancer. Strange sounds leap like off their lips like pebbles, are caught in the mouths of the heavy anklets and emphasised by the dancer's decisive footwork. Saya will wonder in later years whether he really saw this, or dreamt it up.. a pair of large liquid eyes belonging to his young bride float in the air, and seem to beseech the air with desperation, to woo it, to shy away from it. How - alien she looked, dressed in a a dazzle of silk and gold and flowers, responding to a language unknown to him, being sung by the nattuvanar, being echoed by three pairs of feet. Behind her, the vigorously undulating forms of the two dancers, their eyes more quiet and deferential.
[1] The Tamil heritage of Baroda
The imperial city of Bombay, the city that Dhundhi came to
The theatres in the city were magic boxes that lay between the streets, the offices and the houses where people lived their everyday lives. People sat facing large curtains which would part to transport them into spectacle and fantasy. Spectacles were the very stuff of the city.. and all the new one- the theatre, the circus, were enclosed, roofed.
Sometimes a seated child would look away from the stage and stare at the high ceilings, and see for himself, how the box was a world unto itself, with its very own sky. Children loved the worlds in these boxes the most, they were magnificently different from the greyer world the adults had made outside, they were full of hyperbole and colour. Ramakrishna Paramhansa, not surprisingly, would love one such viewing of the theatre too.
The city, a kind of superlative capital, summons up that movement of accession to a superior order of pleasures, of values, of arts and luxuries; it is a kind of precious world of which knowledge makes the man, marks an entrance into a true life of passions and responsibilities; it is a myth.. Ordinarily, for the tourist, every object is first of all an inside, for there is no visit without the exploration of an enclosed space:to visit a church, a museum, a palace, is first of all to shut oneself up, to "make the rounds" of an interior, a little in the manner of an owner: every exploration is an appropriation; this tour of the inside corresponds, moreover, to the question raised by the outside: the monument is a riddle, to enter it is to solve, to posses it; here we recognise in the tourist visit that initiational function..the cohort of visitors which is enclosed by a monument and profesionally follows its internal meanders before coming back outside is quite like a neophyte who, in order to accede to the initiate's status, is obliged to traverse a dark and unfamiliar route within the initiatory edifice. In the religious protocol as in the tourist enterprise, being enclosed is therefore a function of the rite.
Roland Barthes from The Eiffel Tower and Other mythlogies
Backdrops across painting and theatre
Backdrops opened new worlds that could change rapidly within the space of a show. Huge paintings- 14 or 18 feet high and 26- 28 feet wide, could make any world come alive.
A lonely street where lovers meet under a smouldering afternoon sun
Factories belch smoke the colour of a deep evening sky, the back of a train in the distance, leaving its own trail of smoke, an Parsee gentleman races on his humpbacked tricycle, the wheels have painted clocks on them. Time and speed are money his painted image seems to say.
Unknown to him, his daughter steals out- there she is behind a pillar, no, she is under the shade of the lone tree in the city, meeting her down-on-luck lover.
painted backdrops, 19th and early 20th century theatre in India
The first Big Top was brought to India in 1880 by an Englishman Willaim Chirney, who offered 500 gold coins to any Indian who could hassle a horse the way he did. The Raja of Kurdwad's stable hand, Vishnupant Chhatre, took up the challenge, and thus was born Chhatre's Circus, the precusor of other "Indian" circuses: Deval, Parashuram, Lion, Karlekar, Shellar, Rayman, Malabar and Whiteways..
The roof of the circus tent was the sky of the world that you entered. Here anything could and must happen. An ill dressed magician had sold you a ticket at the gate. Limbs turned to jelly inside shimmering costumes, big animals danced and performed for the little ones, clowns were cursed with large boils on their noses for always telling lies. Men fell down like bears and laughed, their paws in the air. Bears wore frilly skirts and over them,bright blouses held together with strings.
Sometimes, the city itself became the theatre, and its sky, the roof of that theatre. To be a ruler also demanded its own public spectacles. Watchmakers delicately strained their eyes in lamplight to make a round and noisy sun that was levered up, slowly, with intricate scaffoldings, to take its place as the man made star over the city sky. It sang the passing of the hours in popular British tunes of the day.
The Big Clock
When the University Library and Clock Tower were inaugrated by the Governor of Bombay, Sir Richard Temple, on February 27, 1880, neither the clock nor the joy bells were in place. They were installed two years later. The contract for the tower clock had been given to Lund and Blockley, at British firm in London that dated back to 1725. In 1879, Mr. George Lund, a member of the Lund family that had been well-known for generations in London with the working of previous metals, jewellery and clocks, came to Bombay under contract from the government to erect the University clock. Unique in design and of intricate worksmanship, it had been constructed in England from Mr. Lund's blueprints. In Bombay it was installed in the fifth storey of the Rajabai Tower, under the personal supervision of Mr. Lund himself. It consisted of the clock dials, twleve and a half feet in diameter, and the carillon machinery consisting of 16 bells and eighing 12 tons. The told cost of the clock and bells was Rs. 30,000.
The musical chimes changed automatically four times a day. The repertoire consisted of 16 different tunes, among them were Handel's symphony, the National Anthem(of that period), the Blue Bells of Scotland, Rule Britannia, Home Sweet Home and Auld Lang Syne. There were tuned to the key of C.
With the university clock in place, Mr. Lund "was prevailed upon" to set up shop in Bombay. Which he did at Sassoon Institute Building, Esplanade Road where a firm of the same name still operates. Turret clocks soon cropped up all over India- in the Kolhapur new palace,the Limbidi Durbar Hall, the Baroda Chimanbai Memorial Tower, the new G.I.P. Railway Terminus among others. But perhaps next to the Univeristy clock, the one that drew most attention was set up in their shop window itself. This was a "wonderful clock" that gave the time of all nations and was made by Mr. Lund himself.
![[2]](http://images.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://www.hindu.com/fr/2008/01/18/images/2008011850140304.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.hindu.com/fr/2008/01/18/stories/2008011850140300.htm&usg=__D8L_hBk-o-4pvgR2KFzPCYQWdwU=&h=129&w=227&sz=16&hl=en&start=1&tbnid=16aqwlGFA7cuVM:&tbnh=61&tbnw=108&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dindia%2B19th%2Bcentury%2Btheatre%2Bpainted%2Bbackdrops%26gbv%3D2%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DG){kind=link}