In New Delhi, where the Rachana Yadav Kathak Studio helmed by its eponymous director creates the group work Swaraah , winter is in the air, manifested in clouds of smog, and clothes that never dry. For Yadav, a Delhi-based Kathak dancer and choreographer, it is an apt time to reflect on the seasons, albeit with deeper meaning. Swaraah will be showcased in Mumbai on Friday night.
Yadav studied Kathak with Aditi Mangaldas and Jai Kishan Maharaj, dancing in Mangaldas’ company Drishtikon Dance Foundation for several years. In 2010, she struck out on her own, setting up a studio in Gurgaon. Her work is heavily influenced by Hindi literature, which she has engaged with since a young age, as her parents were writers. She particularly favours contemporary poetry, relating to it better than she would to historical or mythological narratives. These influences are evinced in Swaraah , where the text is a fleeting presence in the background, triggering explosions of feeling in pure dance.
Yadav says, “ Swaraah , one’s own path, is the way I see my life. When you come into being, you are by yourself: call it birth or the moment when you are stepping out into the world on your own; when you are beyond [the] given, capable of orchestrating your own circumstances. Gradually, I get a sense of life, of people around me, and make stronger connections. Life goes on and you keep making and breaking connections until it becomes mechanical.”
Swaraah uses the seasons as a metaphor for life, tracing the journey to and from one’s roots. Performed by seven dancers including Yadav, the piece relies heavily on the mechanics and dynamics of Kathak to make its point. The music for the performance has been composed by Susmit Sen of Indian Ocean fame and Kathak musician Samiullah Khan — an unlikely collaboration. “Susmit is my neighbour and friend, and I have always wanted to work with him. But he has no idea about Kathak and his approach differed from Samiullah’s immensely. Susmit is an impromptu composer; we had to talk him through intricacies such as laya (tempo) and scale. The way the music works, they do their own thing in parts and come together in other sections. This made it tough to put the music together,” says Yadav.
The first part of Swaraah has the dancers creating aural motifs with their tatkar (footwork). This interplay of tatkar, chakkars (spins) and basic arm movements from Kathak becomes the piece, lending itself to different moods and emotions through the deployment of music and light. The dancers are at their happiest when in conversation with each other, on and off the stage. In a rehearsal in the stark, tube-lit environs of the Kathak Kendra, they are more exposed than they will ever be on stage, with the flat light capturing every bead of sweat, every flicker of disinterest and every missed cue. As a classical dance form, Kathak stands out for its explicit acknowledgement of interactivity in performance. In pure movement, each phrase can be a question or an extended response, with the dancers speaking to each other and to the audience through the dance. A phrase that lacks sharpness and clarity, then, can feel incomprehensible, rather like a mumbled sentence or a missed connection.
It is in these mundane movements, in the in-between moments, that Swaraah is especially put to the test. Every arm flung in a certain direction must gesture towards infinite spaces, indicating a continuous line of energy. Swaraah banks heavily on this clarity, on intent and continuous presence, even when the dancer is in darkness.
The author is an Odissi dancer and writer
Swaraah will be performed at the Experimental Theatre, NCPA at 7 p.m. today. For details, see bookmyshow.com
