The Jester'S New Avatar

Today Rajan Chakiar, as he is known when he dons the chakiar persona, waxes eloquent in defence of koothu. The essence of this art is its ability to be contemporary. If today I wish to perform it in English, then I am true to the spirit of chakiar koothu which seeks to communicate above all else, he says. This experimental streak, however, alienated him from the traditionalists.

But it is an act of sheer desperation. Of the 18 chakiar families left, only three are performing, and these performances are few and far between. The younger generations are simply not interested they see no future in it. Even the odd exhibitions of India abroad like the Festivals of India prefer to showcase its more classical sibling, Kathakali.

 

Rajans argument is simple if tradition cannot come to this art forms rescue, innovation is called for. And one way of doing it is to introduce it to the people in the languages they relate to Hindi, Gujarati, Tamil, English... After all, chakiar koothu grew around the stock character of the Vidhushaka (jester), who acted as the via media between the elite Sanskrit speakers and the masses who spoke the local language.

He has several anecdotes to support his unorthodox point of view. A favourite story relates to the time a little girl in Ahmedabad gave a beautiful rendering of the Krishna-Sudama meeting after one of his English workshops. We were all surprised and pleased at this ten-year-olds effort. The real surprise, however, came when I asked her her name. Margaret. That convinced me that koothu is beyond cultural barriers, forget linguistic ones. Then he goes on to cite yet another example: A country like Israel, which has very little in common with us culturally, gave me a standing ovation when I performed there, and I had to schedule an impromptu performance.

Rajan also moved koothu out of the sanctified precincts of the koothambalam or the temple courtyard. In Mumbai, he began performing on any stage that came his way.

Criticism from the orthodoxy has not particularly perturbed Rajan. He contends that the koothu artist must be a little off-centre in his view of things. And humour is a lot easier to attain when you have alternative perspectives, he argues.

The opposition of the traditionalists to Chakiar Rajans style of functioning is a pointer to the way caste rigidity blocks mobility both up and down the social scale, an irony not lost on this Iyer performer. In Kerala we are considered Tamilian. In Tamil Nadu we are Keralite brahmins. In Bombay, oops Mumbai, we are Madrasis. And I became a Chakiar to add to all this confusion, he says. So who am I at the end of it all? A clown.

It is satire that gives koothu its bite. Political and social references pop up time and again in the midst of the telling of Puranic stories the chakiar does not spare anyone or anything. The flamboyant costume itself is suggestive of the power that the chakiar exerts. The head dress evokes Anantha, Vishnus serpent, and underlines the chakiars predisposition to sting. Extravagant gestures lend dramaticity.

The performer himself was always inviolate: those at the receiving end of the chakiars bitter sarcasm and taunts just had to grin and bear it, be it the local headman or royalty. And in that sense he performed an important social function: he brought the misgivings of the masses to the attention of the powers that be.

Rajan feels that the chakiar can still turn a mirror to society. The koothu can still deflate pomposity and laugh stupidity out of existence. He easily slips into the chakiar mould. Pulling at his sacred thread, with a look that could kill, he enunciates: All this fuss about MTV for instance. I was asked to comment. I said what are they doing on MTV that Menaka did not do to Vishwamitra? One is considered an evil influence, the other is called culture? Drinking Soma-rasa is good and Coca-cola bad? Then the exaggerated chuckle.

Rajan Chakiar has perfected the mischievous innuendo and pun in the language that koothu was born to Malayalam. When his performance peaks, the words begin to tumble out very fast. Unfortunately, the best of them are context and language specific and no translation can achieve the same effect.

He uses the Swami Chinmayananda style for his English koothu renderings. Chinmaya speak could best be described as an astonishing mish-mash of literal translations, puns, Victorian humour and a sense of excitement and agitation, all in the fast forward mode. Contemporary allusions mix with discussions of ancient values. The chastity of women? Very convenient for men. If all our polygamous heroes had to undergo agni pariksha, where would they have been?

There is no text here. A few verses from the Puranas may be sung and elaborated on to set the tone and pitch. The only musical accompaniment is the mizhavu. This percussion piece consists of a copper vessel, its mouth covered over tightly with leather.

The performer has only himself to look to. And thats a tough call. But that does not faze this modern propagator of the art. If the art is destined to survive, it will, says Rajan. By adopting English, which he strongly feels is an Indian language now, he is striving to reach a more affluent, audience. Perhaps I should have been more publicity seeking, he laughs.

It is not as though honours have eluded this enterprising chakiar. He has won many laurels, including the Kerala Sangeet Natak Academy Award, an award from the Paramacharya of Kanchipuram and another recently from the Tamil Nadu government.

Rajan has also indulged himself with a few roles in television serials. He made his mark before the camera with the Malayalam film Killipattu. Rajan played the part of an imbecile in the film. I just had to act natural, he says, tongue firmly in cheek.

This chakiar, who has seen six score and more years, was bitten by the koothu bug at a very tender age. He bunked school to attend koothu performances, learning the style by watching the maestros intently. Now he has more than a thousand performances behind him. And imagine, my first performance was done with no make-up, with no prior intimation in a bid to keep an audience quiet when the scheduled performers did not arrive.

The perfect beginning for the jester. But where is he headed now? What future does he see for this jesters art? One of my unfulfilled ambitions is to have koothu performed in every Indian language. Everybody likes a good laugh. The state our country is in, there will never really be a lack of topics to incorporate into a koothu repertoire. And in that sense, koothu most certainly cannot die.