N. Raghuraman's column: If art is to flourish, the rich must be supported and the educated should be encouraged

One Sunday evening, after a long time since the IPL was over, I felt that I had nothing to do. The family suddenly decided to go to the Nita Mukesh Ambani Cultural Centre (NMACC) in Bandra, Mumbai. There we went to watch the traditional Bharatanatyam dance show 'Echoes of Thanjavur – The Unbroken'. In the small but full-filled Experimental Theater, which had 125 seats, I caught sight of a familiar face. My so-called intelligence immediately activated, raising the question, 'How is this here? They have nothing to do with this programme. I estimated that he would be about half the total seating capacity of this small auditorium. Yet, they were completely lost in the classical dance art that is the heritage of Thanjavur district. That's where I also come from. At that moment my mind gave me the subject of Monday's article. Mind instructed him to interview him as soon as the show was over. My first planned and curious question was going to be, 'How are you here?' He was 73-year-old Anang Desai, best known for his role as the irritable but all-encompassing family head 'Babuji' (Tulsidas Parekh) in the cult-classic sitcom 'Khichdi'. Desai, who has a career spanning over 100 TV shows and 70 films, grew up in Ahmedabad. His father was a cardiologist and mother was a singer and painter. Having honed his craft at the National School of Drama and the Film and Television Institute of India, his artistic understanding is very deep. When we talked, he smiled and said, "Art is art. I love art in every form. "They couldn't have been more right. The performance that we saw stemmed from the Thanjavur Quartet. Performed by Priya Murle, Lekha Prasad and Sneha Mahesh Vishal, this dance form was developed in the court of Serfoji II (1777–1832). Serfoji II was the visionary Maratha ruler of Thanjavur, whose era saw a massive cultural, educational and scientific renaissance. His court brought together outstanding musicians, composers and performers who guided the dancers through rhythmic lyrics by playing the manjira. The beauty of the program came out in many unexpected forms. Priya did not dance with her feet, but told the whole story with an eye expression. Beautifully brought to life the selfless friendship and divinity of Lord Krishna and Kuchela (Sudama). I went to him and said, 'Wow, today I realized that one can tell the whole story with just the eyes. It is called 'Abhinayam' in the language of Bharatanatyam. At the same time, Lekha and Sneha performed 'Keerthanam' in praise of Lord Shiva and embodied his intricate, cosmic postures with amazing beauty. That evening, I realised how valuable it is to give such heritage art forms a mainstream platform where a world-class theatre has sound, lighting and stage décor of global standards. This is definitely worth considering. After the 90-minute programme, my mind was filled with gratitude for the two sections. First, the rich people who created such a hideout and opened it up to emerging talents, so that the culture could flourish. Secondly, the intelligent audience who filled every seat, understood the art and clapped at the right time. This made the artists feel that they were performing in front of an audience that understood the nuances of art very well. Anang Desai was a shining example of this second class. The trap is that art has a universal language, which transcends all linguistic boundaries. If our rich heritage from Kashmir to Kanyakumari is to be truly protected, we have to provide financial support to the rich where the culture can flourish and the educated people have to be given intellectual appreciation to keep it alive.