Does dance, more than any other performing art, offer us the alaukika experience that Abhinavagupta wrote about?
Welcoming the audience at Kalavaahini’s Dance for Dance festival, Malavika Sarukkai spoke about the mismatch between the “staggering beauty” that dance brings to us and the rewards of those who take to the path of dance. Kalavaahini, she said, seeks to foster an environment where artistes get opportunities and are paid professionally for the conception, choreography, and execution of new dance productions. There is much to be said for a professional dancer of her repute to invest in such “giving back” to dance.
Our classical dance forms are refined, cultivated ways of engaging with movement – that is their fundamental accomplishment. Bharatha in the Natyasastra says dance is part of theatre only for its beauty. But as it has evolved, dance can do much more; as Malavika said, dance shows us the invisible. The tug of yearning at the beautiful, astonishment at virtuosity, and the stillness of moments when the artistes and the audience become one – dance can evoke all this at once.
Classical dance is not just movement, but stylised movement conceptualised and nurtured with music and presented with the dramatic impact of that music, costume, and lights. Much goes into a dance production and execution.
Aditi Mangaldas presented excerpts from her production ‘Immersed’. | Photo Credit: Ravindran. R
Bharatanatyam, Kathak, and indeed, all traditional art forms offer an enabling structure – both for conceiving and creating works and for connecting with an audience. So, when a Bharatanatyam dancer erupts into a bright jathi after emoting the nayika’s lovelorn state, the audience is not bewildered. That is the form – we know it and accept it.
Creating a new production within the bounds of such a tradition is always going to be a challenge. What newness can be brought in? Often, it is the possibilities presented by a hitherto unused literary source. And so dancers look for new poetic works and new music for content and inspiration.
Both presentations on day one of the Dance for Dance festival breathed and celebrated Bhakti, drawing upon the vast bhakti literature, both old and new.
With undiminished brilliance and virtuosity in the decades of her dancing career, Aditi Mangaldas presented a whirlwind of electrifying choreography executed with stunning power and precision. Excerpts from her production ‘Immersed’ had her exploring the abstractness amidst the lore of Krishna – “Who are you, Krishna? Are you Giridhar? Or Yashodanandan? Or Gopinath or Jagannath? Jit dekhoon titha Krishna – wherever I look, I see Krishna.
Aditi Mangaldas | Photo Credit: Ravindran. R
Aditi wove her dance around poems by Bharatendu Harishchandra and Cheetswami in Hindi set in ragas like Jhinjhoti, and Kafi by Shubha Mudgal and Aneesh Pradhan. The tatkaar was repurposed to an exquisite moment to suggest Krishna in the breath and as breath - long, short, sharp, soft, always yearning. The all-pervading mystical presence of the divine in the midst of the reality of an absence, evoking playful love, sensuous love, surrender and quiet – all came together in a wondrous tapestry of movement. Her costumes were as aesthetic as they were beguiling for the quick changes. Music support came through very well. The Jhinjhoti and the Kafi renderings of the poetry by Faraz Ahmed were a treat. Tabla (Mohit Gangani) and Pakhawaj (Ashish Gangani) subserved well the needs of the dance even if the tabla sound was a trifle loud, with an edgy sharpness. The music team, including Ravinder Rajput on the flute and lighting design and execution by Govind Singh Yadav, enabled the profound experience that dance can offer us.
Lakshmi Parathasarathy Athreya has a winning stage presence. | Photo Credit: Ravindran. R
Lakshmi Parthasarathy Athreya has a lovely and winning stage presence topped with grace and sound footwork. She premiered ‘The dot that moved’ which used the Shiva Tandava stotram. The innovative narration depicted Ravana lost in a dense forest; he bursts into rapture upon discovering that he was lost in the tresses of Lord Shiva.
Alternating between song and recitation, Lakshmi danced with abandon. The vachika included unusual elements such as whistling and Lakshmi’s own voice. A sudden scream erupted from the stage when Lakshmi depicted Ravana’s hand being crushed by Shiva with the very same Kailasha mountain that he arrogantly tried to lift. Extending the scope of various elements of a performance is to be welcomed but is risky. The whistling and the yelling were somewhat disruptive as attention was diverted towards discovering where they were coming from. The significance of the title, too, did not come across through the dance. As a dancer tries to push boundaries such moments of bewilderment are inevitable, but ideally, they should be resolved and experienced as befitting.
Lakshmi Parathasarathy Athreya explored the theme of Prabodhan through three pieces. | Photo Credit: Ravindran. R
This piece was preceded by a performance of Swati Tirunal’s Chaturraga varnam and followed by an ode to Ganga — a lament at contemporary insensitivities to our water bodies and environment. Music for the latter was set appropriately in Amrithavarshini by Rajkumar Bharathi.
The overall theme of Prabodhan, or awakening, was thus conceptualised and explored through the three pieces depicting the devotion to Krishna, the magnificence of the Tandava, and a prayer to the waters.
Lakshmi’s performance carried much impact also due to the excellent team of supporting artistes that included Vidya Ravindranathan (nattuvangam), Murali Parthasarathy (vocal), Shaktivel Muruganandam (mridangam), T.V. Sukanya (violin) and C.P. Satyajit (lights).
As an observer of the changing climate and fashions in Bharatanatyam, one certainly misses the jathis of a decade or two ago. Today’s jathis are less formidable in terms of physical challenges and complexity of patterns but score on flow and flowery accessibility.
Lakshmi Parathasarathy Athreya’s performed on the dhrupad composition ‘Shiva Shiva Shiva’ in raag Adana | Photo Credit: Ravindran. R
Other thoughts were triggered by Lakshmi’s surprising inclusion of the dhrupad composition Shiva Shiva Shiva in raag Adana to depict Ravana’s adbhuta at the Tandava – another testament to the South being more receptive of the North. On the other hand, one acknowledged with some sadness that when Aditi danced of the all-consuming presence of Krishna, there was very little likelihood that she might reference or even know of Bharati’s kakkai chiraginile nandalala, which too speaks of Krishna everywhere. “Your dark hue is what I see in the crow’s feather and the green of the trees; every sound is the sound of your flute; the scorch of the flame is your love.” Cultural integration continues to be one-sided.
Dance for Dance is important for its agenda and the professionalism with which it is mounted. Perhaps, the organisers should address audience members walking in and looking for seats in the front rows as the dancer is trying to create magic on the stage. Surely, the courtesy of waiting for a piece to end is not too much to expect. And, it is generally a good idea to present a more seasoned artiste later. When Lakshmi came on stage, she had the unfair and formidable task of matching up to the much more senior’s energy and experience. That she still acquitted herself creditably is another matter.
The writer is a classical musician and faculty member at Ahmedabad University.
