Dashanana Swapnasiddhi

The Ramayana is, arguably, an entirely opaque tale,with each character exemplifying an ideal, or an archetype. It is this particular quality which lends the epic to infinite reimaginings, as it has been passed down across countless generations. Of the more recent literary iterations, we often find a desire to humanize the characters, to explore their motivations, to imbue them with new and, at times, contemporary voices. And while such a model of multifaceted characterization is certainly fascinating, to see a character such as Ravanna explored, not through a nuanced revaluation of perspective, but instead through the visceral phenomenon of physical, kinesthetic transformation itself, is truly a spectacle to behold. Such a phenomenon takes center stage across the duration of Dashanana Swapnasiddhi, a theatrical parlay, held between the aforementioned ruler, and the all seeing Goddess of Lanka.

Make no mistake, this conversation is not held solely through words, but instead through twirling, thrashing movement, the whites of the eyes, the bearing of teeth, the effervescent language of flaring shoulders and wheeling limbs. This Ravanna, in addition to being a ten-minded master of knowledge, is a snarling beast, legs splayed, and back arched. He is also, simultaneously, a lamenting lover, awkwardly loping back and forth, playing with the straps of his clothing, as he recalls his unrequited love of Sita. Yet this shapeshifter is only one half of the banter, for on the other end dances the Goddess, who’s many shapes are manifested in the shape of her brow, the gait of her dance, and a number of traditional garbs, which she shifts across with unearthly, celestial grace. Yet the primality of her performance is no less than that of Ravanna, she embodies an indifferent, yet unspeakably wise force of nature, dealing with the affairs of mortals as a child may alter the course of ants.

Together, these two characters coalesce into a phantasmagorical interplay, reacting to each other, and the world around them, at times with burning intensity, at others, with a tragic sense of tenderness and insight. Ravanna, in addition to his asides and soliloquies, takes on the role of narrator, describing a series of increasingly surreal events as he encounters them, and embodies them, through his frame and expression. The sheer brilliance of this setup cannot be overstated, as each segment of the performance serves to pivot the narrative into new realms of chaotic brilliance, to the sound of rattling, sonorous percussion. There are entire segments with little to no words, yet the thematic and aesthetic essence of the play never falls out of focus, but instead builds towards an illuminating finale, which deftly adds a sense of context, and above all else, closure, to this Ravanna.

Transformation lies at the fulcrum of Dashanana Swapnasiddhi, a dynamism through which old characters are lent immediate depth and vitality, in such a way that the written medium is incapable of accessing. It fits, then, that such a style of reimagining be applied to a story which has persisted across an uncountable number of reincarnations, not via pen and paper, but via oral storytelling traditions, and of course, theater. Perhaps it is only by performing and embodying the characters of the Ramayana, that we begin to become part of such a lineage, one that continues to morph, transmute, and branch out into new and fantastic shapes, bounding across eternity.