Tagore in the Hills: Emotional Farewell to Ratan Thiyam Through Music
It was a moment heavy with meaning, woven with history, culture, and the ineffable beauty of the performing arts. As Ratan Thiyam, the doyen of Indian theatre and a towering presence in Manipuri and national dramaturgy, took his final bow from the stage he helped redefine, a young Manipuri girl stepped forward — not with a monologue or a Manipuri ballad, but with a quiet, soulful rendition of Rabindranath Tagore.
The lyrics flowed in Bengali, the accent bore the tonal grace of the hills, and the message transcended all language: this was not just a farewell, but a symbolic convergence of India’s greatest artistic traditions — Bengal’s poetry and Manipur’s theatre — in a poignant homage to a man who embodied the spirit of both.
The Theatre Titan Departs
Ratan Thiyam, now in his seventies, announced his formal retirement from active theatre production this year. A Sangeet Natak Akademi and Padma Shri awardee, Thiyam has long been revered for blending the traditional Manipuri form of Nat Sankirtana, martial arts, and mythic storytelling with contemporary political themes. As the former director of the National School of Drama and founder of the Chorus Repertory Theatre in Imphal, he built a body of work that stands among the most profound in post-independence Indian theatre.
His retirement ceremony was less a grand farewell and more an introspective celebration of a life in pursuit of truth through art. But no one expected the most powerful tribute would come from a teenage girl with a simple harmonium and a borrowed poem from Bengal’s bard.
Tagore in Manipuri Heartland
So why Tagore? And why in Bengali?
According to those present, the decision was deliberate. Ratan Thiyam has often cited Rabindranath Tagore as one of his earliest spiritual and artistic influences. His early years at the NSD in Delhi introduced him not just to the world of Western drama, but to the pan-Indian cultural legacy shaped by thinkers like Tagore, Aurobindo, and Gandhi.
While Thiyam’s work was deeply rooted in Manipuri aesthetics and mythology, the philosophical undercurrent — questions of identity, displacement, violence, and human suffering — often bore the quiet resonance of Tagorean thought.
A particular quote from Tagore — "Art is the response of man’s creative soul to the call of the Real" — reportedly hung in Thiyam’s writing room in Imphal. In many of his plays, from Urubhangam to Uttara Priyadarshi, the lyrical structure and moral questioning drew direct parallels to Tagore’s experimental dramas like Dak Ghar and Raktakarabi.
The Girl, The Song, The Story
The young girl, 17-year-old Samayla Chanu, is a student of the Chorus Repertory Theatre’s training wing. She had been under Thiyam’s indirect mentorship for three years and had grown to admire his gentle, meditative style of teaching — often silent, sometimes poetic, always profound.
When her peers debated how to pay tribute, Samayla quietly chose a path both personal and historical. She asked her Bengali teacher to help her learn the Tagore song “Jodi tor daak shune keu na ashe, tobe ekla cholo re” — the same one Mahatma Gandhi drew strength from, and one that embodies a solitary path led by conviction.
The performance was not grand. She walked onto the minimalist stage, sat cross-legged, and began to sing with a trembling voice. There was no musical backup, no dramatics, just her sincerity echoing in the quiet of the black-box theatre. By the time she ended, many were in tears — including, reportedly, Ratan Thiyam himself.
Layers of Meaning
That moment was loaded with meanings. Here was a Manipuri girl, singing in Bengali, to a theatre master whose life work was about preserving regional identity while engaging with universal truth.
The performance symbolized a loop of cultural continuity — a reminder that Indian art is not about singularity, but synthesis. That a Manipuri tribute in Bengali was not an anomaly but a culmination of what Thiyam stood for: the breaking down of artificial cultural silos.
Samayla later said, “Sir always told us — don't be afraid of language. Art speaks its own language. I felt this song was his spirit. He walked alone often, unrecognized, sometimes even criticized. But he kept walking.”
The Artistic Legacy of Ratan Thiyam
As India’s theatre community reflects on Thiyam’s exit from the stage, it’s clear his influence won’t dim with his absence. His reinterpretation of epics, his environmental staging, his cross-cultural storytelling — all serve as foundational tools for modern Indian dramatists.
More than his artistic methods, however, Thiyam leaves behind a legacy of philosophical clarity: that art must speak truth to power, that regional voices have global echoes, and that the theatre is a spiritual act, not just entertainment.
In that sense, the farewell song wasn’t a mere performance — it was an act of ritual, of passing the torch. From master to student, from past to present.
A Moment That Will Be Remembered
The image of Samayla singing Tagore will be remembered not just for its artistic grace, but for what it represents in modern India — a vision of unity without erasure, of diversity without division.
As Ratan Thiyam stood, bowed deeply to the audience, and walked off stage — perhaps for the last time — the haunting words of Tagore lingered:
"If no one responds to your call, walk alone, walk alone…"
He did. And because of that solitary walk, hundreds — like Samayla — now know the path forward.
In the end, the Manipuri girl’s song was not just a tribute. It was a beginning.