Kuchipudi's long journey

(Above: Sobha Naidu by Avinash Pasricha)

2850 dancers. 200 gurus. 11 minutes. This was the recipe for history in the making. When on 26 December 2010, 2850 kuchipudi dancers of all ages performed an 11-minute thillana in a stadium in Hyderabad, they created a world record. This was the largest group performance of kuchipudi, a historical event which was included in the Guinness Book of World Records. The world record was celebrated with much pomp in the Indian media as a majestic occasion which showcased this South Indian classical dance to the world.

For an Indian classical dance form which is often overshadowed by more popular classical styles, the event was considered by many of its practitioners to be a magnificent achievement not only for its scale but also for kuchipudi’s visibility. This landmark event held in a stadium in the state capital also marked a milestone in the dance’s long journey from its origins in a sleepy village in rural Andhra Pradesh. The dance presented on 26 December 2010 was different in many ways from its original form, for along kuchipudi’s 50-year-long-or-so journey, the dance has gone through a process of evolution and change, transforming itself on the way.

Over 50 years ago in Kuchipudi village, from which the dance takes its name, what we know today as kuchipudi was presented in the form of dance drama. This performing art form was performed exclusively by Brahmin men, who passed on their art to their sons, from one generation to the next. The performers (called Bhagavatulu-s) would dance, act and sing, enacting both male and female roles. They would travel from village to village, staging night-long performances which were presented outdoors on make-shift stages.

Writing in 1972, Ragini Devi describes a Bhagavata Mela performance in Kuchipudi village:

“Dance-dramas are staged at night in Kuchipudi on an improvised stage facing the temple. The audience sit on the ground. A multi-coloured curtain is held up by two torch-bearers, who provide the stage lighting. Musical accompaniment consists of vocal music, a bagpipe drone, drum (mridanga) and cymbals… Preliminary prayers are offered behind the stage curtain. The stage manager (Sutradhara) appears before the audience and recites the invocation. Indra’s banner-staff is set up on the stage. The presiding deities of the theatre are worshipped with holy water, incense, lights, and flowers. An actor, wearing an elephant mask, impersonates the elephant-headed god, Ganesh, who blesses the actors and spectators. Then the Sutradhara announces the play. He is always present on the stage, bearing a crooked stick, the symbol of his office, to conduct the play and lead the vocalists… Resin powder is thrown on the torches to effect a sudden flash of light with the dropping of the curtain when certain powerful characters appear. Each actor introduces himself with a pravesa daru, an entrance dance appropriate to his role, accompanied by song and rhythm syllables (daru). There are both masculine and feminine darus with dramatic gestures, postures, and dance sequences, rendered with grace and elegance. Darus also provide the dance element throughout the play.”

This dance drama tradition had developed during the Bhakti movement of the 15th and 16th centuries, along with other forms of vernacular theatre, as a mode of religious expression through the recounting of religious stories. According to a legend, Siddhendra Yogi, an ascetic and Krishna devotee, is credited as the founder of kuchipudi dance drama.

From its origins as a dance drama tradition performed in rural villages exclusively by Brahmin men, today the dance has evolved into a solo dance form performed on city stages by dancers from non-hereditary backgrounds, mostly women. The dance’s revival started, like for most of the other Indian classical dances, in the late fifties following India’s independence. As the gurus moved out of the village to large cities, the dance form and its repertoire inevitably evolved for the contemporary stage.

Guru Vedantam Lakshminarayana Sastri (Right) had made a significant contribution to the popularisation of kuchipudi in the early 1940s and 1950s. He significantly expanded the scope of the dance drama form by choreographing many nritta and abhinaya items for solo dancers. He had a vast repertoire of ashtapadis, padams and javalis. He was also the first to teach female dancers, including temple dancers. His students included none other than Balasaraswati, Mylapore Gauri Amma, and Vazhuvoor Ramaiah Pillai who all became legends in their own right.

Guru Vempati Chinna Satyam (Left) is credited with having made the biggest contribution to the development of kuchipudi. He developed and codified the technique of the dance based on the principles of the Natya Shastra. He classified the dance units or adavus and introduced a systematic teaching method. He polished and perfected the nritta, or pure dance movements. He developed his own particular individual style which is referred to as the Vempati style or ‘new style’ of kuchipudi. Characterised by strong clean lines, crisp energetic jatis and vibrant footwork, the Vempati style seems to be the most popular style of kuchipudi today. Guru Vempati Chinna Satyam is also a prolific choreographer, having choreographed 180 solo items and fifteen dance dramas. He has received many awards for his contribution to kuchipudi including the prestigious Padma Bhushan from the government of India. He established the Kuchipudi Art Academy in Chennai in 1963. Some of his students who went on to become celebrated kuchipudi exponents include Yamini Krishnamurty, Sobha Naidu and Swapnasundari. His son Vempati Ravishankar has followed in his footsteps and is an established dancer and guru.

Thanks to some prominent dancing couples, kuchipudi has also developed as a duet form. Jaya Rama Rao is from a traditional Bhagavatulu family. He and his disciple and wife Vanashree are well-known and respected kuchipudi dancers and gurus based in Delhi. Chennai-based gurus Narasimhachari and Vasanthalakshmi are better known as bharatanatyam dancers but they are also accomplished kuchipudi dancers known for their innovative choreographies created for duos. The Reddys are probably the best-known kuchipudi couple. They have won numerous awards for the excellence of their dance, including the Padmashri. Radha’s sister Kaushalya is also a prominent dancer, as are their daughters Yamini and Bhavana Reddy. (Above: Jaya Rama and Vanashree Rao)

Compared to the other Indian classical dance styles, kuchipudi is perhaps closest to bharatanatyam in terms of technique, but it has its own unique characteristics. Both styles feature a half-sitting posture as the basic position and strong, rhythmical footwork. But kuchipudi has a certain light-footedness and many graceful hops and leaps that distinguish it from its cousin. Compared to bharatanatyam, it is less angular, with ‘rounded’ arm movements and characteristic bobbing, bending and swaying movements which are unique to kuchipudi. (Left: Yamini Krishnamurty)

The kuchipudi repertoire presented by the solo dancer on the contemporary stage is still evolving and though there is a trend to standardise it, there is no fixed ‘recipe’ when it comes to a performance repertoire, as is the case for the bharatanayam margam, for example. A kuchipudi performance may start with a prayer or an invocatory piece: an offering of flowers to a deity through a puspanjali, or a kautavam in praise of a certain god. Like in bharatanatyam, the jatiswaram set to swara patterns is a popular item (but performed on stage less often), as are thillanas as concluding pieces. Episodes from the traditional dance dramas are also popular, the most famous being Bhama Kalapam which tells the story of Satyabhama, a consort of Krishna. The dramatic aspect of abhinaya characteristic to kuchipudi is an inheritance from its dance drama tradition. There is a rich repertoire of padams, javalis, kirtanams, shabdams, ashtapadis. The padams and kirtanams by Telugu poet and composer Kshetrayya are favourites. Vedantam Satyanarayana Sarma is a renowned kuchipudi artist famous for his compelling and versatile abhinaya and especially his convincing impersonation of female roles during which he completely transforms, adopting the grace of a woman with ease and conviction. (Below: Avinash Pasricha's famous collage of Vedantam Satyanarayana Sarma. Click to enlarge.)

The Tarangam is unique to kuchipudi, often performed as a finale. This is a technique where dancers stand on the edges of a brass plate, sometimes balancing a pot on the head and holding oil lamps, as they move to complex rhythmical patterns. Another technique unique to kuchipudi which was popularised by guru C. R. Acharyulu is tala chitra nritya. Using her feet dipped in coloured paint, powder or dye, the dancer traces the outline of an animal: a peacock in Mayura Kautavam, lion in Simhanandanam or an elephant in Ganesh Kautavam.

All of India’s classical dances went through a revival following independence which involved a process of reconstruction and codification. Over the past few decades, kuchipudi has made many transitions: From a dance-drama tradition to a solo repertoire. From hereditary male performers to a proliferation of female dancers. From the make-shift stages of rural villages to the theatres of metropolitan cities. From guru-shisya-parampara to institutionalised teaching. From the Natya Shastra to the Guinness Book… This process of evolution continues with the contemporary kuchipudi gurus and dancers of today who inject it with their own perspectives, innovations and inspiration.

This article was published in the Summer 2011 issue of Pulse magazine.

In the eye of the photographer: Avinash Pasricha

Earlier this month, the renowned dance photographer Avinash Pasricha was in Bangalore for a workshop and exhibition organised by local Odissi dancer Kshama Rau. Over the past fifty years, Avinash Pasricha has captured images of almost all of India’s greatest musicians and dancers. He has contributed his photographs to several books on dance, often in collaboration with dance historians Sunil Kothari and Leela Venkataraman.

As an admirer of his work, I didn’t want to miss the interactive session with the photographer on June 4th at the Alliance Française. We were a small group of photographers and dance enthusiasts. He began his talk by saying that photography cannot be taught. He told us how he began taking pictures and became a dance photographer. He also showed us a film on his life which was made 19 years ago. It was a collection of his photographs with his own voice narrating his career as a photographer. We also watched a short video which included a superb series of images of Odissi dancer Madhavi Mudgal set to music. Finally, he shared several aspects of his journey as a photographer with us…

On how he became a photographer…

My father was a portrait photographer. I grew up in his studio. I would watch him at work. It was an interesting experience to see the old method of photography. At that time, the photographs were hand-painted afterwards. I enjoyed sitting in the shop and attending to customers. When I was in school, I was also a businessman. I used to sell prints to my classmates. A print cost 4 annas and I used to sell it for 8! That was business. The plan was that I would take over my father’s shop. But there’s a guy upstairs who decides what’s good for you, and that’s what happened. From 1957 I learnt darkroom on the job. Later I heard about a new magazine starting called SPAN. And I became the photo editor. And that journey made a photographer out of me.

At the time I used a Roleiflex camera and I worked in black and white. The printing process was complicated. The blocks were made in Calcutta and the printer was in Bombay. And Indian Airlines coordinated the rest.

I became known as a photographer when I started working for SPAN. I was with SPAN from 1960 to 1997. I’d been on many assignments. The writer collects all the materials and has ample time to write the story but as the photographer you have to think fast… you have to think ‘Where is the story?’ and capture it. As a photojournalist you’re constantly looking for pictures, pictures with a purpose. I developed an approach to people and situations. Each picture must tell a story. After all, a picture tells a story without words. If I’m able to produce that picture then I think I’ve done my job.

My father was a photographer, I followed in his footsteps, and now so does my son. It makes me feel proud. My son Amit Pasricha is a better photographer than me.

About dance photography…

My first dance pictures were pretty bad. They were of Indrani Rahman. They went green because the ektachrome process turned pictures green because of the chemicals. I still have them. There was no telephoto so the photo was always small no matter how close you got.

A lot of people shoot dancers as a statue. They get in a pose and shoot. In fact a lot of people today still shoot like that… as a statue in all her finery. All they think of is the beauty of the costume and jewellery but not the dance. You have to see where the dance is. For me, dance is in the eyes – if you can capture it, then you’re a dance photographer. Only 10% of the time or even less, there’s an expression. By the time you see the expression and you click, it’s gone. (Left: Bharata Natyam dancer Malavika Sarukkai)

In studio photography the dancer stays in one spot and the photographer moves around the dancer. In the theatre, I sit in a seat and watch the dancer dance. In the studio, I dance around the dancer! I’m constantly interacting with the dancer… trying to make her think that she’s dancing. So I say “There’s a tree. A bird. Krishna,” to get her mind away. “Look there! There!” I do it very fast. I tell her to look here and there very quickly so she has no time to think and become self-conscious. Otherwise the mind is always thinking ‘Where is my foot?’ ‘Is my hand in the right position?’ …Otherwise the guru is always there.

In the theatre you never know what the lighting will be like and what will come next. Fortunately in Indian classical dance many things are repeated so you can anticipate. So I’ve learnt to anticipate repetition. (Right: Kuchipudi guru Vempati Chinna Satyam)

Sometimes I’m invited to a dance performance and people are surprised when I don’t show up with my camera. When you’re a photographer, you’re expected to do it every day!

How he started taking pictures of dance…

While I was working at SPAN as a photographer, one of my cousins was into music. He would go to all-night Hindustani music concerts and festivals. I was experimenting those days with black and white triads. So I went with him to concerts. I went there but I had no ear for music. I tried to capture the mood with my camera. At the time I didn’t care about disturbing the artist while I shot and some of my best pictures were taken at that time. And it hasn’t happened since… because now I’m too conscious wondering if I’m disturbing the artist or the audience. And pictures didn’t matter that much at the time when I was experimenting... from there I moved to dance.

Above: Hindustani vocalist, Pandit Bhimsen Joshi

I’m over attached to dance. I don’t know how to detach myself. Sometimes I feel stuck. I tend to do the same thing. Even one of the dancers had remarked that my lighting is always the same. A lot of people have copied my lighting. Sometimes I can’t even tell if a picture is mine or somebody else’s! A few years ago one could tell because there was a standard lighting used. But a dancer once made a funny comment: all you need to do is change the face. [He laughs.] I need to grow to get out of that. Fortunately some of the younger photographers are doing things differently… without make-up, in the forest, plain pictures… and there are magazines that now publish those. The point I’m trying to make is that one needs to get out of the rut. You tend to get in a rut and should ask yourself how to get out of it. And now at the age of 75, it’s more difficult. Partly because people who come to me have a certain expectation. They want the kind of pictures I’ve been taking for all these years. So am I going to satisfy their need? Or am I going to satisfy my inner need, my urge to shoot things differently? Is it possible to satisfy both?

Above: Carnatic vocalist, M.S. Subbulakshmi

I probably produce only one great picture every five years. Not much more than that. One was a portrait of MS Subbulakshmi singing. It was pure luck. I feel that the picture captured that moment of devotion on her face for which she was famous for. I can show you pictures of Pandit Jasraj that I shot in the 1960s and last year and give you a kind of pictorial biography without saying any words whatsoever. Also Shivkumar Sharma and Bhimsen Joshi…

On digital photography…

I feel digital photography fails in recording dance. It’s too slow. By the time it records the image, the dancer has moved. You may miss moments. After a performance of 1.5 hours I may get a few decent pictures.

Another thing that would be taught in the early days would be to take monuments from a distance… it’s a learning process to use aperture to get enough depth when you need depth. You learn this yourself or someone teaches you. One advantage of digital is you don’t run out of film. Sometimes I would finish one or two rolls of film and then something more interesting would happen! So what’s good with digital photography is you don’t run out of film. But you’re left with too many pictures in the end! It takes time to choose and edit them. Editing is a headache. My computer is full and I have to put images on a backup. There are too many to look at! (Left: Kuchipudi dancer Sobha Naidu)

On the photographer’s eye…

I’m a very bad street photographer. Also, I don’t shoot negative pictures ever. Because my whole grounding was in SPAN and we had to always show positive pictures. Once we printed some pictures of an American working in eastern India and there were some children watching him work. A child watching had a torn shirt. The editor said that we can’t show negative pictures. There was nothing negative, just a man working and some children watching… but the child’s shirt was torn. There are different ways of looking and seeing.

I may have shot 100,000 pictures. Very often I’m clicking a picture in my mind without a camera. I see a picture, I stop and take it. It’s gone but it stays in your mind even though you don’t have it on film. There are so many missed pictures in your life.

Each one sees differently. What you see and I see is different. My theory after over 55 years of photography is I can learn and continue to learn but I can’t teach others how to see. See for yourself. You can learn by looking: this is good, this is bad, I can do it differently. (Right: Sattriya dancer Anwesa Mahanta)

Then there’s the observation of light. How light falls. If I can’t change the light, then I can change my position. Or I can compose it differently. I can include or exclude. I have to compose my frame. With digital today you can see the image right away. But I feel that by constantly trying to see, you may miss the shot…

The other thing I’ve learnt is that when people come to you, half the time they don’t know what they want. So it becomes first your own understanding of what they really want and then making them understand. This is what would work for them. If they still don’t appreciate what you’re saying, then you shoot their way and your way and you choose.

Everyone sees differently. I have been doing photography for 55 years. I can continue to learn – it keeps me alive but I can’t teach it. You have to learn for yourself.