The story of a king

This is the story of a king… who lived – actually who knows whether he really lived or not – let us assume that he did, for the sake of this story – a really long long time ago. Around the time the Pandavas and Kauravas did, and Krishna who is now God was then a mere mortal. A rather cunning and confused mortal but mortal all the same. And he was great friends with the Pandavas and tried to teach them, mostly unsuccessfully, his cunning tricks. Sometimes, occasionally, he succeeded too. Like in this story.

Coming back to the King – he was Jarasandha, born to a father who divided a fruit into two to give both his wives a piece of the divine blessing that was to make them have progeny that would carry on the name and fame of the race. He couldn’t choose, you see – and that was his first mistake. Sometimes it pays to play favorites. Because each of his wives delivered a baby boy – half a baby boy actually. The baby, discarded in the forest by the heart-broken king was pasted together – vertically – by Jara – and so begins the story of Jarasandha.

Like with all self-respecting wicked kings at the time of the Mahabharata, Mr. J was a terror to other kings, weaklings all, who were defeated and imprisoned by him. Enter our heroes, Krishna with Arjuna and Bhima, all dressed as Brahmins. The king, for all his failings was kind to Brahmins, you see. But wait, they want him to fight with one of them? A king fight with a Brahmin? Impossible, he says. At that, they reveal their true identities – Jarasandha scoffs at the weak Krishna and handsome Arjuna and chooses mighty Bhima to be his dueling partner. The two, matched in every way, in skill, in strength and stamina fight and fight and each time Bhima manages to throw the other king down, he springs up and back into the battle.

Remember I told you Krishna was cunning? He signaled to Bhima with a betel-leaf – tear it vertically into two and throw the pieces away in opposite directions – that is the only way to kill this wicked king, he gesticulates. And Bhima did. And Jarasandha is killed. Good triumphs over evil yet again.

And the audience goes back home enthralled with the two hour long performance, the beat of the chenda and maddalam still ringing in their ears. This was the story of Jarasandha in Kathakali – katha = story, kali = play – enacted by Kotakkal Devadas and his troupe; Jarasandha is a red-bearded character in Kathakali, signifying an evil and demonic personality.

Two hours on stage, four hours before that for the make-up and costume. Paints and oils, canvas and cloth, silk and cotton… it is a process that is as intensive and time-consuming to go through as it is fascinating to watch. (Do read the wikipedia piece on kathakali – very informative and interesting, especially the bit on make-up and what each of the colors and costumes signifies)

Kathakali is a mix of classical and folk dance forms, and fairly easy to follow, given that the music is a mixture of Malayalam and Sanskrit and the actors have limited means with which to convery emotions – the eyes (what can be seen of them), hands and feet and some sounds. Kathakali was traditionally performed in temples, performances beginning late in the night and going on till early morning, although now there are stage performances which are much shorter. I read also that Kathakali exponents go through several years of rigorous training in Kalaripayattu, a martial arts from of Kerala, to gain the grace and stamina that this dance requires. Given just how consuming this art form is, I can only say that I am very glad this has survived to this day. Do not miss any chance you may get to watch Kathakali; the experience is awesome.