Iconic Hanuman 0f Kalakshetra

August 2019 was a relentless month, claiming the lives of outstanding individuals from different walks of life in quick succession. Just as we were recovering from the sad news of the death of music director Khayyam, albeit at the ripe old age of 92, came the shattering blow of the passing of another brilliant artist whose impact on dance aesthetics and standards spanned six decades. Veteran Bharata Natyam guru CK Balagopalan succumbed to a cardiac arrest at his Chennai home days just eleven 11 days before his eightieth birthday on 4th September. Till the very end, he was teaching, and rehearsing for his performance in Kumarasambhavam slated to be part of Kalakshetra’s forthcoming December Art Festival. "Balan Anna" was a dancer and dance teacher I admired ever since I first saw him on stage some 45 years ago. It was at what is now called the Rukmini Arangam inside Kalakshetra, then an open air theatre, where you sat under the moonlit sky and watched the magic wrought by Balagopalan and his dedicated band of colleagues unified by their devotion to their art, Kalakshetra and their ‘Athai’Rukmini Devi Arundale. Balagopalan was a magician on stage, mesmerizing succeeding generations of audiences in a wide variety of roles. A tiny little man, thin as a reed, dressed in a simple white shirt or jibba and veshti, he looked mild and unprepossessing in real life, though the mischief in his eyes often hinted at hidden depths. Once on stage, he assumed a veritable viswarupa, whether he was playing Hanuman, Krishna, Sakuni or Bharata. Of all these varied parts, Hanuman was his favourite character. He once said, "My fortunes changed dramatically once I started playing Hanuman. Anjaneya's grace led to many people helping me start my own dance school after retirement from Kalakshetra." Onlookers forgot his small frame as he brought the monkey god alive so magnificently. It was Balagopalan's unshakeable faith and devotion that helped him to cause the involuntary suspension of disbelief in the rasika to whom he appeared larger than life, a veritable giant. With his expressive eyes and mobile face honed by his Kathakali training under his first asan Chandu Panikkar, he stole the hearts of Kalakshetra's sophisticated rasikas in a phenomenal range of roles including Lakshmana, Bharata, Ravana as the kapata sanyasi, Kannappar (one of his most poignant presentations) and Maha Vishnu. A scouting mission by Kathakali asan Chandu Panikkar at the behest of Rukmini Devi brought him and his friend VP Dhananjayan from Kerala to Kalakshetra. Balagopalan preferred football to books during his early years at Kalakshetra, and as he progressed as a dancer, Bharata Natyam to Kathakali. Panikkar's main pupils were Balagopalan, Dhananjayan and Kunhiraman, each a towering figure in the institution in the years to come, though Dhananjayan and Kunhiraman left Kalakshetra for other pastures, while Balan and a younger star pupil, Janardanan, stayed back till their retirement. Balagopalan never forgot to thank his many gurus from Asan and Rukmini Devi to other, younger teachers like NS Jayalakshmi, Pushpa Shankar, Adyar Lakshman, Vasantha, and the perfectionist Sarada Hoffman. A Sarada or Peria Sarada Teacher was a major influence on all the students. Balagopalan had the honour of seeing his biography published in his lifetime. Written by one of his disciples, Eliza Louis, a nun who teaches Bharata Natyam in Paris, France. Titled Leap of Faith, Mesmeric Hanuman of Kalakshetra, it has a literally and metaphorically apt picture of the artist as an airborne Anjaneya, A painstaking and moving tribute from a devoted sishya and believer of another faith, the book, released on Balagopalan’s 79th birthday, is a true symbol of the eclecticism that inspired the founder of Kalakshetra and her followers. His wife Leela gives us a glimpse into Balagopalan's personality, with particular reference to his occasionally short fuse. "If you are patient at the time of his outbursts, he'll just surrender to you later." Their children Pranesh and Prithvija trained to be dancers under their father's watchful eye. The talented Prithvija continues to pursue a career performing and teaching Bharata Natyam with great commitment. Pranesh is involved in filmmaking and recently worked as assistant director in Puducherry-based Kirubhakaran Kaarthikeyan’s maiden feature film His Father’s Voice, in which Balagopalan played the role of Janaka in a brief but poignant enactment from the Ramayana. Balagopalan's refined abhinaya easily set him apart from most dancers of his time. His iconic interpretation of the role of Hanuman was the crowning glory of his career. Rukmini Devi said of him that the small man could "fill the stage with his presence and make everything else seem puny." I watched him once injure himself seriously during one of his breathtaking entries leaping and flying as Rama’s lieutenant, only to resume dancing after receiving some serious first aid and medical attention from Sydney-based Dr P Janardanan, who happened to be in the audience. He was confined to bed for months afterwards. Typically, Balagopalan blamed himself for the relative lack of rigour in his usual pujas in the run-up to that production. His biographer said, "All through his growing years, and even today in his seventies, he has not lost the wonder and inquisitive nature of a child." He loved nature and animals, even reared a squirrel and a mongoose as a boy, and once rode a donkey on the beach—with disastrous results, as his lifelong friend Dhananjayan remembers. “Balan Anna’s” splendid lifetime commitment to his art always reminded me of these words of George Bernard Shaw: “Life is no 'brief candle' for me. It is a sort of splendid torch, which I have got hold of for the moment; and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations."

Au revoir, Sultan Saleem (1946-2019)

Au revoir, Sultan Saleem (1946-2019) A former teammate, and friend of 48 years, is no more. Sultan Saleem passed away at Hyderabad on 21 August, exactly 27 years after my father, succumbing, it seems, to very similar complaints. Saleem was expected to become an international cricket star after he scored 201 and 312 in the same match for All Saints vs. Aliya in an inter-school final over 50 years ago. Saleem was one of the State Bank of India stalwarts to champion my cause and stand with me during my years of struggle to establish myself as a spin bowler of merit. He, Nagesh Hammand, P Krishnamurti and Abid Zainulabuddin were my mentors during those early years, though each of them was just about my age or younger. The year was 1971, when a young pocket marvel called Sunil Gavaskar was making waves on India’s tour of the West Indies, led by Ajit Wadekar. All five of us, my mentors and I, worked and played for the bank, and, unfortunately, I am the only one still alive. And each of us also played under the late Wadekar’s captaincy for State Bank. After that flash of precocity, Saleem had a relatively quiet Ranji Trophy career, in and out of a talented side, which had a batting line-up that often included Abbas Ali Baig, Jayantilal, Abdul Hai, MAK Pataudi, ML Jaisimha, Abid Ali and Narasimha Rao. Saleem scored prolifically for the bank’s team in the Hyderabad league, the SBI inter-circle matches and tournaments like the Moin-ud-Dowla Gold Cup. His batting technique won him many admirers among his seniors, and with his slim physique, uncreased flannels and elegant batting, he was no way behind the Test stars in the glamour department. A natty dresser off the field, he was often seen at the Fateh Maidan Club, drinking tea (yes, he was that rarity in Hyderabad cricket, a teetotaller) and nonchalantly tipping his ever present cigarette in the overflowing ashtrays of the club. He rode his motorcycle at a majestic pace, and gave the impression of a matinee idol trying to please his adoring audience with his immaculate appearance. Saleem went away to the United States in the 1980s, and came back to Hyderabad some tears ago. Ever the loyal friend, he kept in touch with a monthly phone call or two, calls that lasted long, like a Cheteshwar Pujara innings, but text messages or email did not seem to work for him. The calls were invariably warm and full of concern for you and your family. Nostalgia was a strong point with Saleem, for whom old was indubitably gold. Saleem had strong views on almost everything under the sun. While most of us were bilingual if not trilingual in the dressing room, Saleem preferred the Queen’s English. His food choices too were fairly fixed: he once told me he didn’t want to risk a tummy upset when I offered him some curdrice at lunch. He was a film buff, if I remember right, his constant companion at the movies another close friend of mine, all rounder CR Chandsran, who was perhaps one of the first of my Hyderabad cricket contemporaries to die young. The list is long: Krishnamurti, Mumtaz Hussain, Abid Zainulabuddin, Nagesh Hammand, Murtuza Ali Baig, Vijaya Paul, and of course our seniors Jaisimha and Pataudi. All those who played with Sultan Saleem will surely bemoan his failure to go on to the big stage in cricket after his sensational start at the school level, but will always fondly remember his elegance on and off the field, his toothy smile, his perfect manners, and his insouciance in challenging situations. To me personally, he was a steadfast friend.