Learn about an orchestra that showcases talents of handicapped and visually challenged artistes

Mujhpar ek ehsaan karna ki mujhpar koi ehsaan na karna (Do me a favour, don't do me any favours). The Salman Khan catchline elevates itself to a life-sustaining worldview, when mouthed by 20-year-old dancer Gajanan Bhagat who doesn't have legs. His dhinka chika signature dance step, rendered on his knees, is a defining moment in the three-hour long Swaranandwan entertainment orchestra which is run by 100-odd orthopaedically challenged, visually impaired, leprosy-affected (also cured) and speech-hearing impaired artistes from Anandwan - the community living rehabilitation center at Warora in Chandrapur district. Bhagat's philosophy - "No Charity, But Opportunity" - finds echoes in the over three-hour long variety entertainment show that is soon to complete 15 years and has just completed its customary New Year cheer tour across Maharashtra with conceptualiser Dr Vikas Amte.

Even before sponsors express their interest in booking the artistes for shows through the year, Dr Amte (Anandwan's chief functionary) takes to the stage at the end of each concert to explain the motivation behind the orchestra. "This is no parade of the needy. This is a stage exuding positivity and hope - an enabling space where the handicapped and the supposedly deformed tell the world that life is worth living and worth giving back to." Instead of seeking charity, Swaranandwan has rededicated its cash collections to community causes, be it subsistence farmers' families or water-starved villages.

Ever since he floated the orchestra concept in 2002, Vikas, the elder son of Magsaysay awardee-social reformer Baba Amte (who set up Anandwan - primarily focused on leprosy patients - in 1948), perceived Swaranandwan as a form of "therapeutic theatre" or Upchar Manch in which the disabled get a sense of exhilaration integral to a stage appearance. The artiste rises to the occasion by putting his or her best foot forward in a time-bound ticketed enactment. The demonstration of artistic skills to a possible professional extent - singing, choreography, mimicry, oratory, sound-light-property management - instills confidence in not just the artiste, but also the audience, which leads to the catharsis that Dr Amte sees as "necessary in contemporary divisive times."

As stage manager Ravindra Nalgintwar recalls, Swaranandwan started as a small-scale in-house amusement activity in which Dr Amte and his wife Bharati wanted to tap the talent of the inmates of Anandwan (a campus 465 hectares) spread across 35-odd distinct projects - a vocational training center, a school for the blind, a rescue center for abandoned children, an agriculture college, routine health camps and hospitals etc. The idea was to conceive a show that would add a zing to those who were doing relief work and even those whose lives were being rehabilitated. "Some of us had a good voice, but lacked formal training. Some thought they could dance, but had tried it only in the Ganesh festival mandals. We had some donated instruments which none of us knew how to play. We couldn't deal with microphone management which often created a music of its own. Our initial shows were, therefore, too slapdash. In fact, Vikasdada would record our shows and replay it for our improvement," Nalgintwar says.

The orchestra has caused good cheer offline too, especially each December-January season when the travelling troupe performs in cities like Panaji, New Delhi, Nasik, Pune and Mumbai. So far, around 800 artistes (some have left Anandwan after the rehabilitation) have been part of the Swaranandwan show. The current contingent has 200 artistes (who take turns in the shows, as all cannot travel together), which includes backstage workers, caretakers, cooks, tailors and music-dance teachers. As old-timer-manager Sadashiv Tajne, 63, (who lost his legs to polio in childhood and is therefore wheel chair-bound) says, each stage performer is backed by at least four able-bodied offstage helpers, due to which the troupe's management becomes a logistical feat.

Often, Swaran-andwan turns down offers of sponsored shows from other states "because travelling long distances in a disabled-unfriendly India adds to off-stage tensions."

It is only after experiencing the three hours of Swaranandwan that one knows why Vikas Amte calls it "Art Attack." Each artiste, allotted less than five minutes of stage time, has a reputation and tenacity for holding the audience for minimum four hours at a stretch. Since all 100-odd artistes cannot be accommodated in each show, a healthy tussle is witnessed for earning the slots, which shows when leprosy-cured Purshottam Chandekar (45) lives up to his 'Voice of Kishore Kumar' tag; blind and mentally challenged (who cannot speak much otherwise) Sonu (21) evokes awe in her Dil Cheez Kya Hai delivery. Guddu (32) who lost his legs in an accident, a tailor by profession, renders his Main Hoon Don with an exemplary freshness. The team of hearing impaired artistes display perfect coordination while dancing to Made in India, without the audience realizing the sign language instructor seated below the stage.

Swaranandwan's artistes subtly introduce social messages by sharing their stories. For instance, when compere Sudhir Kadam (42), a wheelchair-bound artiste, sings for his wife (a hearing-impaired Anandwan worker), it is a statement in itself. In a light tone, he says that unless he touches her, how will she know that he is singing Chhookar Mere Dil Ko Kiya Tune Kya Ishara. Similarly, when the 24-year-old Mangal (less than three-feet girl dancing to Chalein Jaise Hawaaien Sanan Sanan, rescued from an abandoned children's home in Bhiwandi) says she just finished her graduation and intends to do her Masters in political science, she achieves an exceptional height in an instant.

A book of Baba Amte's less-known motivational songs is just out and some of them have featured in the orchestra. Those close to Baba Amte recall them as "difficult songs" that require a niche understanding of the movement from which they stem. The book, therefore, has accompanying commentary on what the verse signifies. Surprisingly, the differently-abled internalized it a while ago. Encore is the word.

Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a culture columnist in search of the sub-text. You can reach her at sumedha.raikar@gmail.com