The shuffling chime of anklets echoed through the large corridors of the temple. The swish of silk saris and anticipation filled the air as girls, their doe-like eyes heavy with kohl, entered the performance hall. They looked expectantly at the musicians sitting in the far corner. The king waved his hand and the performance began with the twang of the tambura.
While the etymology of the word ‘Arangetram’ is commonly understood to come from the Tamil words ‘arangu’ meaning stage, and ‘etram’ meaning to climb, its original context is often overlooked. One of the early references to the ceremony dates back to approximately the 5th century AD Tamil text, Silappadikaram. The third chapter of this treatise is titled ‘Arangetrakadai’ and mentions the qualities of a dancer, as well as the formal ceremony where dancers would debut their craft in front of the king, where he would bestow his favourite dancer with a title and riches from the crown. The ceremony was not only an evaluation of the dancer’s skill and training, but also of her poise, showmanship and ability to dress the part.
Arangetram means debut performance | Photo Credit: ARINDAM GHOSH
In the 1950s, as Indian dance was restructured in the post-Independence era, reformists were hesitant to use the word arangetram as its history was associated with the hereditary dancing communities of South India. The idea of a stage debut, however, was conducive to Bharatanatyam’s shift from temple/court to proscenium. Therefore, several male nattuvanars from the Isai Vellalar community began conducting arangetrams, sometimes with two dancers at a time, to showcase a margam. The 1960s and 1970s saw an influx of dancers establishing their own schools — yet most did not have an arangetram. In fact, some of the greatest dancers known to us, like Yamini Krishnamurthi, never had a formal arangetram.
Arangetrams in the West
In the 1980s, as the dancing population increased, teachers began using arangetram as a way to launch the professional careers of their students. A debut performance meant that a student had mastery over the basic concepts of dance and had taken a serious interest in pursuing dance on the public stage. This continued well into the 1990s as many dancers travelled overseas to establish their dance institutions in the West. Slowly, arangetrams in the West became an opportunity to connect with the Indian heritage and identity. ‘Authenticity’ became the goal for such events, with parents and gurus going to any length to encapsulate their idea of tradition. Musicians were flown in from India, Nataraja idols displayed prominently, silks custom sewn and celebrity chief guests hosted, all for the purpose of expressing the young dancer’s faithful adherence to her culture.
In the past two decades, arangetram has turned into a beast of an event, complete with family and friends in attendance, floral arrangements, curated menus, a camera crew and sometimes even an event manager to oversee all the plans. The arangetram trousseau often sports grand Kanjeevaram saris that would rival any of their bridal counterparts. Sets are constructed to resemble temples and palaces, in a feeble attempt to root the young dancer in the history of South Indian performing traditions. The glitz and glamour of the arangetram, however, is a simultaneous expression of the popularity of the guru and the wealth of the parents. Does such a ceremony evaluate the dancer on any aspect of her form? Is the parroting of a margam enough to indicate formidable skill? Of the thousands of arangetrams completed world-over every year, how many dancers make it to the professional stage?
Role of dance gurus
In today’s day and age, social media makes the arangetram ever present. At least two arangetrams are live streaming on any given day, with teachers circulating links on WhatsApp and Facebook in an effort to increase viewership. Dance gurus further contribute to this culture by celebrating the completion of a “record” number of debuts. While some students go on to perform in dance productions, we are yet to see the next generation of well-established dancers that become artistes in their own right. While there are several promising dancers in the industry, one wonders whether they will be able to achieve the artistry and selling power of the old guard.
Perhaps this is an important moment for dancers and gurus alike to consider the function and purpose of the arangetram itself. With a range of innovations including thematic margams, folk items and even film numbers, we must question whether the tradition has evolved to cater to a social media audience with momentary attention spans and limited literacy in the arts. While some dancers have truly benefited from the exercise, others still use it as an embellishment for college applications to foreign universities. In all of this, how do we address the relevance of the arangetram to the form of Bharatanatyam itself? What aspects of a repertoire reveal themselves to the dancer and to the audience? Is the event still evoking the rasa of connoisseurship?
While these and other questions linger in our heads, social media buzzes with short clips of young dancers in rehearsals for their upcoming debuts. Publicity for these events function like ad campaigns, with behind-the-scenes filming and strategic posting. If we can bring ourselves to stop scrolling, perhaps we can begin the difficult inquiry into the purpose of our tradition and how it has evolved today. After all, the complicated history of our performing arts can’t be scrolled past.
The Bengaluru-based writer is a dancer and research scholar.
