Friday, July 6, 2007

orthodox and broad-minded

I had always thought of orthodox people as being stuck in the past and narrow minded and full of all sorts of prejudices. But once again, I discovered over time, that Master was very broad-minded on some things while being absolutely orthodox on others.

When I began to live with him, I noticed that relatives who came for a visit and went away would always fall at his feet and get his blessing when they were going away. One time, I went to his student's arangetram where one of his former disciples came to the function, and she fell at his feet. On Vijaya dasami, all his disicples would do the same and they would put their hands over the fire from the lit piece of camphor.

Master was a very modern person in some ways. I didn't realize how broad-minded he was until someone explained it to me.

I just took it for granted that it was a merit-based system. I worked hard, I practiced, I learnt the basic pieces, I followed his rules, so naturally he taught me very well. But ... there is no "naturally" about that. He need not have taught me so well, even though I followed all his rules. Other gurus reserve the best for family.

At that time I didn't see how extraordinary and how modern it was but later I realized it: this strict impartiality that he followed in the classroom, teaching according to certain principles, and stubbornly refusing any other consideration to enter into the picture: how many people can be that impartial? I believe it is a rare quality. It brought a certain detachment and also a level of dignity to the whole pursuit. We did not have to worry about his mood or his personality or about trying to please him: it was so clear and so simple.

Other disciples have remarked this about Master: it's all or nothing. Either he doesn't teach you at all, or quickly stops after a beginner stage, or else, if he decides to go for it, he goes all the way, and doesn't hold anything back. And he slogs at it, he won't leave it at half-finished or in a shoddy state. He'll work you over until you have it down to his satisfaction.

During my time, in Master's classroom, I saw students from a wide variety of socio-economic backgrounds. There was a dancer who lived down the street of very modest circumstances and she would pay something like a hundred and fifty rupees a month. He didnt' care. There was no set fee. Everyone paid what they could, it was voluntary and he would never ask. Over eight years she became a good student and he would spent 3 or 4 hours each day, six days a week, teaching her the danyasi varnam. It was such a paltry sum! For all those hours and hours of teaching.

On the other hand, there was a person from the cinema world who approached him and offered him a fabulous sum if he would come and teach her just one margam at her place. He refused point blank. He wouldn't go teach at any one's house, they had to come to him. Also, anyone from the world of "cinema" he automatically refused, as did his father, he used to say. Basically, if you approached him with the attitude of "I will give you so much if ..." he would just refuse. It wasn't the way to approach, you couldn't talk "business" or "negotiate". He would generally only take beginners, and would usually refuse people who were advanced students who wanted to add items to their repertoire.

One of his cardinal rules with existing students was not dancing to someone else's nattuvangam. If a student went to another teacher's class room or if they hired someone else to do nattuvangam and danced to that - then it was over. The class room was permanently closed. Famous students learnt the hard way that when it came to this rule nothing could bend him. Not all the glittering fame nor success, not pleading. He could throw it all away and start over.

And yet, to me, there is something grand and very modern in a man who can refuse to bend his principles - who will say "no" to patronage and fame, and who will instead pour himself out on a talented dancer from a poor family who will probably never make a big name.

As I said, there were students in his classroom from all religions (jains, hindus, muslims, christians), and many different castes and many different economic circumstances. Once class started, everyone was corrected in the same way. No special treatment, no coddling.

Even after I got to know him well as a person and could speak to him as a friend, I always kept conversation outside of class. Once we entered the classroom, once he picked up that thatu kazhi, everything else stopped, I was the student, he was the teacher, and I did not joke or chat or make conversation. Some people think that nattuvanars from this community are very touchy. I remember a critic writing once that the smallest thing could make them pack up and leave. Not true. From my perspective, it was eminently rational. I behaved with him as I behaved in any of my classes.