NARTAKI

(The Danseuse. A short-story)

BRIJLAL BIYANI

(Translated from the original in Hindi by Dr. R. C. GUPTA)

Universe! Universe is the product of art! In the absence of art, there will be destruction, immutability! In the beginning of art lies the foundation of the universe. Perfection in art is divinity.

In art there is life! So also love and beauty! Art and the artist are inseparable, but they are separable too. In separation, art becomes greater than the artist. The picture is more important than the painter. The work of a sculptor is more beautiful than its creator. The world of imagination created by a writer is more fascinating than the writer himself. Music is sweeter than the musician, Life without art is dry, meaningless.

By the good fortune of the citizens of the town, a famous danseuse was to arrive in our town. Her proposed visit was widely advertised. Naturally, the lovers of art looked forward to her visit with enthusiasm. The performance was arranged in a big theatre. Tickets were being sold from even before the day of the performance.

I love art. All my life I have been much attracted to it. But in this unfortunate Bharat, art has been allowed to deteriorate. Art is looked down upon. Desire to derive sensuous satisfaction from it has lowered the position of art. Beauty, instead of providing spiritual satisfaction, has been made use of to derive sensuous pleasures.

Debasement of art naturally debases the artist. When appreciation of art is lacking, how can there arise a true artist and who will respect him? How can one who thinks creation is an illusion, fathom the purpose behind it? While deploring the degradation of art, one may well declare one's love of the artist; but he would derive neither real pleasure from such art nor could he hope to see the true artist.

This being the social background, there went on a veritable conflict in my mind as to whether I should attend the dance performance or not. Dancing is looked upon as a low profession. Should I venture to go, it would be considered improper by the so-called patriarchs. Who knows, my own little leadership may be slightly affected. For entirely selfish motives, I pretended to show indifference towards art. But at the same time, the fearless self within me kept on asking “Why be afraid of the world in the enjoyment of life?”

The essence of life lies in being true to ourselves. Let the world form its own opinion. The danseuse does not guide herself by what the world says. She has identified herself with art; and the whole world is eager to see her. If some don’t witness the dance, out of fear (of criticism), let them not. I decided to see the dance. I sent a servant to buy a ticket for me. But the tickets were already sold out. I was disappointed. But at the same time, I consoled myself with the thought that my reputation would not now be jeopardised. In the disappointment of not getting the ticket, I experienced both pleasure and regret. This duality of the mind is brought about by our own actions.

At last, the day of the dance-night arrived. In the evening, friends asked me to accompany them as they had already purchased a ticket for me. This was like a meal to the famished. I now decided to join my friends as this meant an opportunity of fulfilling my real desire without loss of reputation, friends persuasion serving as an excuse.

Friends and I reached the theatre before time. They had reserved seats in the front row. Our group occupied one whole row. A seat in the first row was sufficient to wake up a sense of self-importance. A sense of respectability augments one’s consciousness of life. I looked in front; I looked side-ways and then turned my head to observe the rear. The theatre was full to its capacity.

The moment for the commencement of the dance was approaching. Those who had watches were repeatedly watching them. Eagerness was intensifying. There was impatience. Every moment was becoming oppressive. The clock appeared to move slowly, because in comparison with the speed of mind, the world moves tardily. All eyes were fixed on the curtain and the ears were waiting for the third bell. There was commotion amongst the spectators. There were whistles, cheers and loud shouts. Intense curiosity, variously expressed, appeared to have reached the climax. I glanced all round and peeped within my own self. In the extreme excitement I experienced the effects of art.

The third bell rang. The curtain left the earth and rolled upwards to the sky. The stage was empty. The danseuse was not there. There was perfect stillness in the theatre. The danseuse entered the stage from one side very slowly. Our eyes were on her. All feelings. and the sense of appreciation of the spectators was concentrated in their eyes.

The danseuse stood in the centre of the stage. She bowed with a smile. All the spectators observed her in a moment; she also cast a glance at the audience. The danseuse was standing unmoved, as if inanimate.

The danseuse was not exceptionally beautiful. The build of her body was also not very proportionate: round face, short stature; compared with the height, she was plump. Her dress was ordinary. The spectators did not derive the expected satisfaction from the bodily beauty of the danseuse. The feeling of disappointment was apparent.

I had not seen the danseuse before, although I had heard about her. I knew of her through the advertisement. I was familiar with her high reputation. The fame of the dance had created in my mind an unusually beautiful image of her. When the real danseuse appeared, disappointment wnatural as it fell short of the imaginary picture.

When the friends saw the danseuse, they looked at one another. A thought arose in my mind, The dance was so highly praised and yet the danseuse was not so beautiful. I saw the artist. The art was yet to be seen. There is a difference between the art and the artist. The beauty of Ravivarma’s pictures could not be found in Ravivarma. Then why should I insist that the danseuse should be beautiful. We had gone to see the dance and not the danseuse!

In a moment the prevailing tranquility was disturbed. Sweet, slow music began to play. The danseuse struck the stage with the left foot. She began to move. The hand moved. Fingers moved. The right, foot was lifted. The body began to move. Her motion began to increase. Every part of the danseuse’s body was now in motion. As the speed of the dancing increased, the nature of the dance was being revealed. In the revelation of the dance, the danseuse was becoming invisible.

The spectators were becoming more quiet. The dance started attracting them. They forgot the danseuse. They were engrossed in the dance only. The dance reached the climax of its motion. The danseuse merged in the dance. One could not distinguish clearly either the face or the hand or the foot or the dress. Everything was unsteady, moving. In her motion, she lost her tangible form.

Only the dance could be seen. The danseuse lost herself in the dance. The dance and the danseuse became identical. I do not know if the danseuse forgot herself, but the spectators undoubtedly forgot themselves. The alluring art of the dance captured every-body’s heart. Everyone was enjoying indescribable happiness. The delight could not be contained in their hearts. It burst out, It began to flow through eyes, and fell in showers in the form of loud cheers and congratulatory expressions of appreciation. My heart desired that this motion should not halt. It should not rest. This sublime motion should be perpetual.

The climax of the dance had passed. The speed was slower. The danseuse was visible. All motion stopped. The dance ended. The danseuse stood motionless in the centre of the stage. She bowed. The spectators welcomed her with cheers. The danseuse, after the dance, looked far more beautiful than the danseuse before the dance. The impressions created by the beauty of the dance brought about a slight change in the conception of the beauty of the danseuse. Even the slightly languorous face which was the result of her fatigue, brightened the flame of her beauty. I experienced how great actions produced unknown effects on the form and what lustre they imparted to the form.

The curtain dropped. The danseuse was preparing to have some rest before the next dance. The spectators started discussing the dance and were very eagerly waiting for the next.

During this period of waiting my thoughts began to dance. The danseuse and the dance. In the fullness of the art of dancing, in the height of its motion, the danseuse disappeared. She became invisible. When the dance ended, the danseuse became visible.

My thoughts turned towards the universal dance and the original world energy in the shape of the danseuse. How beautiful is the dance of the original energy! How artistic! If one were to observe the dance of the universe, one would not be able to see the danseuse. If one wishes to see the danseuse, one would have to forget the dance. Moving danseuse is the dance and motionless dance id danseuse. In the dance there are both danseuse and motion. In the dance of the universe, like the danseuse, the original energy also dances.

I am a tiny moving particle of this universal dance. If the dance ends, I would also end. So I can see only the dance of the universe. I am unable to see the danseuse; and what would I get by looking at the danseuse? Possibly the beauty of the dance would not be found in the danseuse. One enjoys the pleasure of the art and tastes happiness only when the immovability of the danseuse takes motion.

Ultimate happiness lies in the observation of the dance of the universe. This is the essence and the ultimate end of human life. One should observe the danseuse behind the dance in her every pose and posture and then enjoy to the heart’s content the joy derived from it. In the dance, the danseuse is ever present, but, in the danseuse the dance is invisible. Visible dance and the inferential danseuse. This is the real vision of the universe.

The bell rang. The curtain went up. The danseuse came. Thoughts became transformed into observation. The dance started. From the world of imagination, I came to the world of realities. I began to enjoy the new dance.

In attraction lies the power of inspiration. Inspiration gives to imitation. It came to my mind, ‘I can also assume motion. Then why should not I dance? Why should not my life be as attractive and beautiful as this?’ My own thoughts gave me the reply: “You have motion, no doubt, but, your motion lacks the quality and the arrangement of the art of dance. Systematic motion possessing the necessary qualities is creative art. That possesses the power of attraction. If one wishes to make one’s own life attractive, he must possess the requisite merit and must learn how to regulate his actions. Then and then alone, there shall be life’s real dance.”

The dance gave me mental pleasure and taught a lesson of the dance of life. Oscillating between thought and observation, I continued to witness the dance.

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