How do you make Bharatanatyam’s
content interesting and in a way that audiences across India – including
someone in a dusty village in Uttar Pradesh – appreciate and respond to it? Savitha
Sastry says she knows how…
When my husband A K Srikanth and I
started our concept of what we called Bharatanatyam Dance Theatre, we faced
challenges from two opposite ends of the audience spectrum. On the one
side, were the traditionalists, who enter a show expecting the
Pushpanjali-Varnam-Padam-Javali-Thillana routine and would cry hoarse at
anything else. The farthest end of the spectrum had another - potential - audience
that would make a face and walk the other way at the mere mention of a
classical Bharatanatyam performance. The latter perhaps accounts for a vast
majority of India and the reason for their behaviour stems from the convictions
of the former.
Everything has a time and place.
Bharatanatyam delivered beautifully in the age where it belonged. In the
times of the devadasis, this dance form was used by those ‘wedded’ to the Gods
to solicit patrons or maintain their exclusivity over them. The raison d'ĂȘtre
has faded away. Therefore, synergies are created to equate the dance form to
divinity, thus giving it a cloak of invincibility and continuance, for no one
would like to be seen critiquing the Nayika constantly pining to seek union
with the Gods. It's a different matter that the God had no problems engaging in
voyeurous escapades with all and sundry!
Okay, so we have a weak story with
the rationale of the devadasis clumsily substituted with the name of the God.
So we turn our attention from the content to the standards of delivery.
Every critic and his/her critiques follow a mandatory four paragraphs
extolling the Aramandi, the geometric shapes, the mathematical footwork, the
Nrtta and Abhinaya and perhaps one point about a missed step in the thirty-eighth
minute of a forty-minute Varnam! The dancers began to dance for critics,
teachers, students, and other dancers. A self-sustaining audience base
grew out of it. And the tradition lived on forever.
I believed this too. For the longest
time, I would blame a lack of audience or the lack of interest to some issue
with my technique till I came to cities in India that did not know Bharatanatyam.
It took a Punjabi lassie to point out "Forget about your footwork, the
show is boring any which ways. I would rather go see a movie!"
The traditionalists and the
practitioners of the art form would, more often than not, respond to the call
for change by retorting that classical show can still get full houses. They still get standing ovations and meet an audience
that wipes away their tears utterly moved by the depiction of the leelas of the
Gods. If a renowned artiste was to
travel to a dusty town in eastern Uttar Pradesh, and present this to the locals
there, I wonder how many tear-stained audience they would encounter. If this art form is divine, then why those in
that dusty town be precluded? Doesn’t
divinity surpass geography?
What
is beautiful about Bharatanatyam is its innate ability to narrate any
story. Get the story right and the audience will flow in; forget their
cell phones, and follow you much like they do a good cinema.
Audiences,
across the length and breadth of the country, have validated my beliefs
following my experiments with truth. After every performance of Soul
Cages and Yudh, two productions from my production-house, the audience echo the
words over and over again, that they are left speechless. Whether it is a
Sardar in Chandigarh, a Parsee family from South Mumbai, an intellectual in
Kolkata, a trader in Surat, or a chicken farmer in Coimbatore, they all managed
to understand an original story, not borrowed from mythology or religion, and
yet deeply philosophical. And this, despite being their first Bharatanatyam
show! This, in a sense, is the true glory of this dance form. Hip-hop and Salsa
can never. Bharatanatyam can.
The
way to preserve a tradition is to morph it to be relevant in the present
age. If tradition is preserved without a
connection that is relevant, then it is not preservation but destruction. We
agree there is a population that would watch art for how it is delivered,
rather than what is delivered. Catering to its needs is a large group of
Bharatanatyam artistes perhaps larger than what this clique needs. In order
that the art form grows, it needs to be understood and relished by the common
man, not live in an ivory tower of codified elitism. It is a strange brew of
democracy indeed that these very performers seek the validation from the common
man without ever bothering to look beyond themselves.
In
my personal journey as a dancer, I have been through the path of the
traditionalist and have journeyed to a post in life where I have realised I am
nothing compared to those whose validation I seek – the audience. I am happy
that I was trained to be perfect in my technique. It is imperative that a dancer perfects
technique. But only so he or she, can
deliver content effortlessly, and not for its own sake. Using novel stories is
not a departure for the sake of departure. It has to be a story that will
engage the audience and will seize them by their throats and allow them to
react viscerally and savour the beauty of the narrative. When they walk out at
the end of such a show, they need to have had sensory, intellectual, and
emotional fulfillment. Miss any one of these and the experience is incomplete.
As a performer, obsession cannot be about technique. It has to be about one
thing only – how do I astound my audience today?
The writer is an Indian dancer and choreographer best known as an exponent of
Bharatanatyam