Life, as unpredictable as it is, doesn’t fail to spring surprises even on a weekend. As fate would have it, I ended up planning to watch a play or two alone, and found myself walking into the Experimental Theatre of the NCPA. I must admit, the venue does live up to its name. So, I saw Navtej Johar and Madan Gopal Singh’s dance-musical drama Fana’a: Ranjha Revisited this evening. The play is a melée of two romantic epics, each one from North and South India. Heer Ranjha is a famous Sufi legend from Punjab, while Kutrala Kuravanji is a genre of dance-drama from Tamil Nadu.

Ranjha was a prince who fell in love with Heer, and became a cowherd in the farms of Heer’s father, just so that they both could be together. When Heer was married off to someone else, Ranjha turned a jogi, a mendicant and follows Heer.

The epic from south, Kutrala Kuravanji is a story of a young girl – Vasantvalli – falling in love with Lord Siva and living in fantasies of her union with the Lord. As the drama unveils, sakhis (friends) of Vasantvalli tease her, support her and enrich her fantasies of her union with Siva by bringing in a fortune-teller who would predict when Vasantvalli would meet Siva.

Johar’s drama presents both these epics in dance form, with songs from Kutrala as well as Sufi songs reciting Heer-Ranjha’s legend interspersed with each other. Both the stories flow simultaneously, with Navtej and his dance partner Anil Panchal playing the roles of Heer, Ranjha, Vasantvalli and Siva. Both the dancers changed roles –- and the transition was smooth — which was indicated through the lyrics. The hour-long play was a mix of Sufi songs in Punjabi and Kutrala recited in Tamil. The seemingly distant fusion of Sufi and carnatic music did not sound odd at all. The dance technique followed was a fusion of Bharat Natyam and contemporary dance, throughout the play.

What appealed was the ‘seamlessness’ as people put it, of Johar’s masterpiece. Kutralas usually have a happy ending with Vasantvalli’s union with Siva, while Heer-Ranjha’s epic ends in despair, in separation. What brings about both the extremes to a common ground is the abstract nature that the stories take because of the male duet dance. Both the dancers interchange roles very frequently, thus keeping the audience glued to each and every movement of theirs.

More, the play brought both the epics woven together with one single thread – desire. Although Johar may have conceptualised the play due to his love for both Sufism and Kutrala as he admits, the thought has evolved into depiction of bare, plain desire in its most innocent form.

Besides the dance, the singers Madan Gopal Singh and Rekha Raj sung amazing Sufi songs like Ranjha jogi banke aaya and Aaj piya mere anganach aaye. Carnatic songs were played using recordings – sung by Govindrajan Elangovan. Without a single prop on the stage, the accompaniment to this one-act play were minimalistic with Preetam Ghoshal’s sarod, Gurmeet Singh’s tabla, Deepak Castelino’s guitar, G Raghuraman’s flute and R Kesavan’s mridangam.

What’s next? – A Midsummer Night’s Dream, by Tim Supple. Now that’s what you call a streak of good luck.