Beyond the Blackout: How a 32-Second Power Cut Sparked a Legal Battle for Fairness in Kerala’s Premier Youth Festival 

Beyond the Blackout: How a 32-Second Power Cut Sparked a Legal Battle for Fairness in Kerala’s Premier Youth Festival 

In the hushed, expectant atmosphere of a school auditorium in Thiruvananthapuram, a 16-year-old dancer took her stance. Every muscle was poised, every expression tuned to the rhythm about to begin. This was her moment at the District School Kalolsavam, the fiercely competitive gateway to Kerala’s most prestigious cultural stage. As the first notes of the Kuchipudi piece should have filled the air, something else happened instead: a profound silence, punctuated by the dimming of lights. For 32 seconds, power vanished. In that half-minute void, a teenager’s years of preparation seemed to flicker out. But what followed was not surrender, but a remarkable journey from a disrupted stage to the halls of the Kerala High Court—a journey that questions what true fairness means in the pressurized world of competitive art. 

The Incident: When the Music Stopped 

The Kerala State School Kalolsavam is not just a competition; it’s a cultural ecosystem. For students, it’s a chance to etch their names into a legacy of artistic excellence, with top grades once converting into precious academic grace marks. The pressure is immense, the scrutiny intense. 

For this Class 11 student, a dedicated Kuchipudi practitioner, the district-level event was the critical hurdle. As she began her performance, the unexpected blackout struck. Witness accounts and her petition describe a scene of sheer resilience: she continued to dance in the sudden darkness and silence, her mudras (hand gestures) and footwork persisting through muscle memory and sheer will. When power resumed, she completed her piece. However, the seamless flow, the critical synchronization of movement with tala (rhythm) and emotion, had been irrevocably broken. The result was a fifth-place finish, shattering her hopes of progressing to the state festival. 

The Bureaucratic Wall: “No Grounds for Re-evaluation” 

The girl’s immediate appeal to the education department was met with a dispassionate, technical rejection. Authorities acknowledged the 32-second power failure but concluded, after reviewing video and score sheets, that it did not materially affect her performance. They pointed to the stage manager’s report and maintained that her performance was simply not on par with the first-place holder. The message was clear: the show must go on, and technical glitches, however unfortunate, are part of the risk. 

This response highlights a classic institutional blind spot: the inability to quantify artistic disruption. Judges could score visible steps, but how does one score lost momentum, shattered concentration, or the psychological blow of performing in a void? For the dancer, the argument was visceral. “How can one evaluate a classical dance performance stripped of its soul—its music and lighting—even if just for half a minute?” her plea essentially asked. 

The Court’s Intervention: Justice Bechu Kurian Thomas’s Nuanced View 

Faced with a closed administrative door, the student, represented by advocates Rajesh Kannan and Praveen N Pillai, approached the Kerala High Court. Justice Bechu Kurian Thomas’s order on January 13, 2024, is a masterclass in applying legal principles with human empathy. 

The court did not simply order a re-evaluation of the past event. It recognized the impossibility of erasing the original, compromised performance from the judges’ minds. Instead, it focused on the opportunity that was lost. Justice Thomas made two critical observations: 

• The Inequality of Circumstance: He noted that while the dancer showed admirable grit by continuing, “there could possibly have been a loss of confidence affecting the performance.” This placed her in an “unequal position vis-à-vis other participants.” The court acknowledged that fairness isn’t just about judging the same performance; it’s about ensuring comparable conditions for that performance. 

• The Remedy of a Future Chance: Since recreating the original evaluation was impossible, the just remedy was to restore the chance itself. The court quashed the department’s order and directed that she be permitted to participate in the State School Kalolsavam commencing the very next day. This was not a guarantee of victory, but a guarantee of a fair shot. 

The Deeper Resonance: More Than Just One Dancer’s Chance 

This case transcends an individual grievance. It touches the core of how we administer large-scale artistic competitions, especially for youth. 

1. The Psychology of Performance:Athletic competitions often have rules for do-overs in case of external interference (a false start, equipment failure). The arts are more nebulous. A dancer’s performance is a fragile confluence of technical skill, emotional expression, and symbiotic connection with the music. A break in that connection, especially at the outset, isn’t a pause—it’s a rupture. The High Court’s judgment implicitly recognizes this psychology, valuing the performer’s internal state as much as the external output.
2. Institutional Rigidity vs. Discretion:The education department’s initial stance was defensible on paper: rules were followed, sheets were checked. Yet, it lacked discretion. The court’s intervention served as a necessary corrective, reminding institutions that their ultimate duty is to substantive justice, not just procedural box-ticking. It sets a potential precedent for handling similar “act of God” disruptions in future competitions.
3. Empowering the Young Artist:The teenager’s decision to legally challenge the system is a powerful story in itself. It moves the narrative from a passive “victim of circumstance” to an active claimant of rights. It teaches a generation of young artists that their dedication and effort have value that the system is obligated to honor and protect, even when faced with unforeseen glitches.
4. The Cultural Sanctity of Kalolsavam:By intervening, the court also protected the integrity of the Kalolsavam itself. Allowing a potentially brilliant artist to be eliminated due to a power failure, not a lack of merit, would have ultimately diminished the festival’s claim to be a true discoverer of talent. The state-level competition is now richer for having her presence, ensuring the best possible field.

Conclusion: A Victory for Context Over Convenience 

The Kerala High Court’s decision is a landmark of nuanced jurisprudence. In a world increasingly driven by binary outcomes and automated processes, it reaffirmed the importance of context. The 32-second blackout was not just a technical error logged by a stage manager; it was an event that altered a human experience. 

The dancer now takes the state stage, not with a handed victory, but with a hard-won opportunity. Her story is no longer about a power cut, but about perseverance—both in continuing to dance in darkness and in fighting for the light of a fair chance. It’s a reminder that true justice in the arts, and perhaps in all spheres, sometimes requires listening not just to the notes that were played, but to the silence that interrupted them, and having the wisdom to offer a new beginning.