I hereby list a few suggestions for Yakṣagāna artistes, especially to enrich their āṅgikābhinaya and realise its value.
• It is important to ensure that the strī-veṣas are more graceful and gentle. This can be achieved by blending the movements of Yakṣagāna with the movement vocabulary of the Nāṭyaśāstra. Movements will need to be adapted to suit the nature of the character.
Usage of coloured screens in the background and bringing in sceneries on the stage prove to be obstacles in evoking Rasa. Similarly, tying banners or displaying advertisements are aesthetic impediments. Many a times, the sponsor, the patron or the academy that is hosting the show wishes to prominently display his name at the background. This has to be strongly discouraged. It suffices to have a screen of the navy blue or black shade as the backdrop. It is not appropriate to seat the himmeḻa – the music ensemble – behind the actors, facing the audience.
We will need to take stock of the experiments that have taken place with costumes of Yakṣagāna, especially in introducing new characters. Noteworthy attempts have been made by Karanth in developing animal characters such as Jaṭāyu and Māyāmṛga and by Raghava Nambiar in serpent-characters such as Takṣaka. While Karanth used masks, Raghava Nambiar has managed to bring out nuances merely with facial make-up.
To summarize, it would not be wrong to say that Yakṣagāna has its own costume that is self-complete and beautiful. The puṇḍu-veṣa (kedagè-mundalè) of Baḍagutiṭṭu has almost reached perfection. However, the kaṭṭu-mīsè (tied moustache) and muṇḍāsu (big turban) that is larger than necessary will have a negative impact primarily on sāttvikābhinaya. They are also detrimental to vācikābhinaya and āṅgikābhinaya, in the decreasing order.
For the sustenance and growth of any form of art, novelty and constant practice are essential. They are required both at the level of the individual and the society. Though most people intuitively agree with this, there have been several discussions and debates regarding the nature of the novelty that is introduced in an art and the value that innovation adds to aesthetics.
The Nāṭyaśāstra classifies raṅga-prayoga (theatrical performances) into two kinds, based on the place where it is staged – bāhya (outdoors) and ābhyantara (indoors). Performances that fall under the category of bāhya are presented on make-shift stages, outdoors. (This is also called bayalāṭa in Kannada). Ābhyantara productions are presented indoors on a permanent stage.
A theatrical performance that is rich in prose-like spoken language, employs gesture language that isn’t stylized and has āṅgika that largely divorced from pure nṛtta can be called nāṭya; such a theatrical performance is closer to loka-dharmī. In another case where vācika takes the form of lyrics (which are largely in metrical patterns) set to a rāga and to a rhythmic pattern, and when āṅgika becomes stylized like in nṛtta, the performance assumes the form of a nṛtya.
All of us will have witnessed different forms of classical theatre art in India. It is not difficult to estimate their mutual concordance and inter-connectedness. To understand the philosophy behind these arts and to grasp the manner in which they have crystallised over the years, we will need to take refuge in the unbroken tradition of the Nāṭyaśāstra. It evokes great pride even to take a cursory glance of these arts and realise that they belong to this eternal tradition; such an unbroken tradition of theory and practice is unique only to India.
The aesthetics of group dance is compromised because choreographers fail to keep track of the changes that a solo performing art needs to undergo in the process of adapting itself to a group performance. The effort is like trying to put a square nut into a circular hole. Unless we go to the level of abstraction and examine things, no transformation can successfully take place. For example, to turn a bronze sculpture of Gaṇapati into one of Śrīkṛṣṇa, we will need to first melt the sculpture we have with us. Then we will need to recast the bronze so obtained into the image of Śrīkṛṣṇa.
We will need to search for an object at the place where we have lost it – this is inevitable and also expected. We can examine this from the perspective of music. It is needless to say that music is inevitable for dance and in a sense directs dance. In a dance recital, even if the dancer is below par, we can relish the performance to some extent if the music accompaniment is good. On the contrary, if the dance is good but the accompanying music is below par, we will be unable to stand the show.