Amba

The story of Amba comes from the Mahabharata. This week in Chennai a dance festival is being held based on stories from this great epic. Pani Thee / Frozen Fire was written and directed by feminist playwright Mangai and danced in traditional village style called Koothu Isai Natakam by Usha Rani who is a folk artist. The performance was filled with great energy. The photos are of Usha Rani. The second image is from near the beginning where she is on the battlefield and she has just begun to discard the heavy battledress. The top image is of her when she has in a way regained her self.



amba’s revenge dp262

the gods and people dance
while the gods dance the world
in and out of existence
like bees creating and destroying a hive
the people dance stories of love and war
of dharma and betrayal
the dancer transforms
shifting body
changing the temper of the dance

this girl has set her mind to the future
she knows security when she sees it
and she’s here today to choose her future
but fate in the shape of blundering Bhishma
has set a different course
like a game of chance
her life is won in a throw of the die
but she’s no shrinker in the face of fate
she confronts him says not happy
I want the other one

Bhishma seems the proper gentleman
provides an escort sends her to the one she’s chosen
but men are fickle and Salva will not be her salvation
he says Bhishma beat me hands down and
you were the prize
back you go girlie
and so she does
but by now Bhishma’s got himself in a pickle
he’s vowed celibacy
Amba feels like she’s being pulled from pillar to post and back again
and her will just gets stronger and stronger

she retires to the forest
she has supporters but nothing helps
only obsessing day in day out about Bhishma’s future
it is clear she wants him dead
Bhishma’s mother Ganga
that great river
hears the rumours gets in early with her curse
being the mother of all rivers has its benefits
she curses Amba to be born with the woman river in one side of her
but the other would be a paltry forest river of rocks and sand and dried mud

Amba is set to see this revenge through several lifetimes
doing penance to help her reach her goal
one day she is granted a god-boon
clear as light she says
I want him dead and I want him dead by my hands
and a new course is set

Amba transformed in the fire of passion
gets a new body a new life
this girl grows up a tomboy
they encourage her in sports and games and archery
at which she excels
they call her Shikhandi
she out runs out smarts out strategises
everyone
this is an old life reborn with purpose

when war comes with Bhishma standing on enemy lines
Shikhandi dresses for battle
she wears her biggest shoulders
she puts on battledress
crowns her head with the tallest headdress
she shines like no other warrior on the field
Bhishma recognises her
scorns her says I’m not fighting a woman
just because she’s put on her brother’s battledress
and he lowers his guard
and his weapons

whereupon Shikhandi shoots arrow
after arrow
after arrow
and when she hears him say
as he lies pierced by her arrows
it was that man behind you who shot these arrows into me
not some girl in dress-ups
she strikes him again with furious arrows

it’s all a great play to you Bhishma the invincible
but you have met your match in me
so convinced were you that I was just a woman
no man has trained as hard
no man could pierce you with his eyes
no man could see your vulnerability
your over-weaning pride and belief in masculinity
your time is over now
I will discard these vestments of processioning power
this armour of splendour
I will discard the accoutrements of masculinity
and watch the waning power of men
a passing yuga
a mere transit

instead I will reclaim the simple life
wrap my body in a single length of cloth
take off to the forest with her by my side
the best part of this great charade

the gods and people dance
while the gods dance the world
in and out of existence
like bees creating and destroying a hive
the people dance stories of love and war
of dharma and betrayal
the dancer transforms
shifting body
changing the temper of the dance