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Hindustan Times
29-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Report: Remembering Veenapani Festival (RVF), 2025
Near the entrance of Adishakti Theatre's campus, at the feet of a large ficus tree, is a board saying, 'It wasn't always like this.' It's true – it wasn't. It has been told that the land – now a myriad shades of green, filled with butterflies and lush ferns – was arid, when Veenapani Chawla, who had arrived in Auroville to pursue a spiritual life, was gifted it. 'Do something here,' the person who gifted it to her had said. Somehow, they knew that she could turn that land around. And how she did! During the 11th edition of the Remembering Veenapani Festival (RVF), held at Adishakti Theatre, Auroville from 13 to 19 April, it was plain to see that the land is now moist and fertile. Creatures of all kinds abound on many legs. The centipedes, for instance, are quite spectacular. Dogs and cats peacefully co-exist. They seem friendlier and quieter (I noted fewer hidden-for-fun footwear incidents this time). The creatures with no legs that slither around have also been seen, bothering no one and going about their work. Adishakti Theatre, I noted, has a new office building and dining room – a fresh receptacle for the rich conversations that happen during meal times. The red-oxide covered round tables outside offer stiff competition to this space. The Ammas and Annas working in Adishakti still give actors free demos in voice projection as they discuss tasks and share banter, throwing their voices across the land. Volunteers from all over India (there were many theatre enthusiasts from Bareilly this time) blended in as if they'd always been there. The profound and hilarious sign boards painted by Malavika PC invite people to enter the layers of the space, to engage deeply. This year's RVF saw actors like Amir Khan and Prabhu Deva joining from other cities through specially recorded video messages. A new accordion book annotating a seminal address by Veenapani Chawla was released during the inauguration and made available to all festival attendees through a scanned code. RVF delivered on the promise of diverse programmes including not just plays, concerts, dances and workshops but also feasts that featured (among other things) – nannari juice, buttermilk, bajjis, burgers and popsicles. The queues to get into the theatre were longer than ever before. From Sufi to classical music, qawwalis and early morning concerts, musical plays to thought provoking dances – the festival fare was varied. RVF 2025 opened with Ilham, a collaborative concert by Sufi singer Smita Bellur and Rajasthani folk band SAZ, comprising Sadiq Khan, Asin Khan and Zakir Khan Langa. The rapport between the four musicians enabled a seamless flow of the ghazals, folk songs, khayals and bhajans presented. Two distinct approaches to music-making complemented each other in Ilham. While Smita's precise diction and skilful voice modulation reflected extensive training and a rigorously honed musical practice, the folk musicians' unmasked voices, as also the musical tonalities they created, showcased music as a way of life, imbibed across generations. Finely balanced, team Ilham treated audiences to classical and poetry based compositions as well as popular Kabir bhajans like Man laago yaar fakiri mein and Moko kahaan dhoondhe re bandhe. Savera by SAZ, Adishakti's first ever dawn concert, ushered in the new year on the Tamil calendar on April 14. Folk songs celebrating dawn, picking on love's challenges, expressing nostalgia for home, paying homage to the guru and saluting nature – sat well with the early morning air. Team Adhishakti's Bali, written and directed by Nimmy Raphel – also Adishakti's Managing Trustee – innovatively explored questions on deceit, gender and power. Urmila, another Adishakti production written and directed by Nimmy Raphel, masterfully laid out the rebellion and rage of one of the least mentioned female characters from the Ramayana. The dramatic language of Bali and Urmila, though quintessentially Adishakti-esque, deployed unexplored visually engaging metaphors and images. Vishwakiran Nambi's Yele Oota that spoke through the combined vocabulary of classical, folk and contemporary dance forms, delved into issues of inequality in food distribution and access. The coordination and skill of the dancers had the audience riveted. Bhoomi, the other Adishakti home production, broke away from their style of non-linear narratives, bringing up questions on perpetrators and victims of sexual violence within artistic spaces. The play was written and directed by Vinay Kumar, Adishakti's Artistic Director. Mallika Taneja's Do you know this song? had the audience singing through the play, even while reflecting on lost voices and broken dreams. The play's unique scenography, soundscape and musical design – also the host of handmade dolls used as props – had the audience's attention till the very end. The festival culminated in a qawwali performance by the Warsi Brothers from Hyderabad. Nazeer Ahmed Khan and Naseer Ahmed Khan with their ensemble of musicians invited the audience to inhabit the poems, taste their words and thus dive into the essence of each song. The Remembering Veenapani Festival is more than a tribute to the founder of Adishakti Theatre. It is an attempt to foster the arts and theatre watching. 'Progress in arts is not something tangible. You can't measure it by the normal yardstick. We have had some 3000 people at least coming in this festival. Out of that, if 200 people go and watch theatre, it is still a success,' says Nimmy Raphel. Explaining the ethos behind the green campus she says, 'As much as we grow, a space should also grow and be creatively stimulating.' Speaking about the decision to keep the festival open to all and free of cost, Vinay Kumar says, 'We are still building a community of art lovers, arts seekers and ticketing may create a different energy around the festival. It may become a gate. People travel from all over the world to come here. It will be an additional burden if we ask them to buy tickets.' He points out that 'the performances come from an emotional level, not for money.' That these performances are not just well received but make space for multiple viewpoints, is a huge strength of the festival. Renukamma, who came to Adishakti as a construction labourer many decades ago but was employed to work on the campus, describes how much she and her family members enjoy the performances. 'I go back after work and bring my grandchildren and others to watch the shows,' she says. 'This is a time we look forward to,' she adds, fondly recalling many memories of how Adishakti Theatre has evolved over the years. Charumathi Supraja is a writer, poet and journalist based in Bengaluru.
Korea Herald
12-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Korea Herald
Bangladesh's Fuljhuri Sisters: Sarod, sisterhood, and the quiet defiance of convention
DHAKA, Bangladesh (Daily Star/ANN) — Their story is not about overnight success or going viral on social media. It's about continuity — not just of a musical tradition, but of familial responsibility, cultural defiance, and personal conviction. In an age of viral trends and digital distractions, the sarod does not exactly scream "popular." It doesn't feature in TikTok dance reels, nor does it fit easily into algorithm-driven playlists. And yet, in a modest room in Dhaka, two teenage sisters tune the strings of this 17 to 25-stringed instrument with the kind of reverence usually reserved for rituals. They are Ilham Fuljhuri Khan and Isra Fuljhuri Khan — known to most simply as the Fuljhuri Sisters. Born into sound, not silence For Ilham and Isra Fuljhuri Khan, music was not a choice — it was an inheritance. Their father, Ustad Md Iliyas Khan is a tabla player; their mother, Supriya Akter, introduced them to vocal music early on. "In our childhood, both of us had our teachings in singing from our mother and in tabla from our father," Ilham recalls. By 2015, the sarod entered their lives. "Our father placed the first sarod in our hands," says Ilham. "Since then, we've been learning together." The weight of legacy is undeniable. "We are the sixth generation in our family involved in music," Ilham notes. Isra adds, "My paternal grandfather is Ustad Fuljhuri Khan, a Swadhinata Padak winner. And we are descendants of Ustad Alauddin Khan." This is not a casual lineage. It's a living discipline — practised daily, carried with care, and quietly passed on through the fingers of two teenage girls playing an instrument most people their age cannot even name. The sarod sisters Though both trained in vocals and tabla, it is the sarod that shaped their identity, so much so that audiences and organizers alike began referring to them simply as the Sarod Sisters or Fuljhuri Sisters. "We didn't plan it," Ilham reflects. "It just happened. We performed our first duet in 2017 at a Baithak at Bengal Parampara Sangeetalay. People liked it. And then it just stuck." Performing mostly in duets, they have carved out an identity that balances individuality and synergy. Isra, the younger sister, is already composing her own pieces and working in studios on soundtracks, commercials, and projects. Ilham, balancing HSC exams and daily riyaz, maintains a quieter presence, but when they play together, there's no "older" or "younger." Just music. Not glamorous, not easy It's easy to romanticize their journey. Daughters of a musical dynasty, trained under maestros like Pandit Tejendra Narayan Majumdar and Kaushik Mukherjee. But the sisters are candid about the less pleasant parts. "We live in a country where classical music is not prioritized. That's just the reality," Ilham says without bitterness. "People think girls should not be out performing in the evening. And they don't stop." Their defense? Silence. Practice. Progress. Their parents, especially their mother, have acted as the first line of resistance. "My mother has endured more than people know," Ilham says. "All so we would not have to." Isra adds, "People say things. I've stopped listening." What comes next? For now, they're focused on refinement. "There's still so much to learn from our Guruji," Ilham says. Isra dreams of performing with him someday — not as equals, but as a disciple, on the same stage. Isra's broader aspiration is to make classical music more accessible, especially to people her age. "Right now, children don't listen to it. Maybe they don't relate. I want to change that. Not to make it trendy, but to make it visible." Their performances are slowly gaining ground in festivals and unconventional venues. Isra has already played with Chirkutt at the Joy Bangla Concert and in experimental platforms like Dhaka Makers and the Rishka Festival. Ilham, the quieter half, focuses more on the purity of form and on making it to her next exam without dropping her sarod. No hashtags, just harmony The Fuljhuri Sisters are not here to entertain the algorithm. They are here to hold onto something that many are letting slip — an entire vocabulary of music that predates YouTube, Spotify, and the attention economy. So, the next time you hear a drone of strings and mistake it for background score, listen a little harder. It might be two sisters, a pair of sarods, and generations of tradition, threading their way into a future that still has room for silence, depth, and sound that refuses to be forgotten.
