Book Review - My Journey: A Tale of Two Births by Ileana Citaristi

Well-known Odissi dancer Ileana Citaristi’s third book My Journey: A Tale of Two Births is an autobiography and memoir which tells the story of her coming of age during the student movement in Europe, her artistic journey which led her to India, and chronicles her experiences and achievements as a dancer, performer, choreographer and author.

The subtitle alludes to Citaristi’s life before and after her arrival in Cuttack, Orissa in June 1979 to study Odissi under the renowned guru Kelucharan Mohapatra, a trip which was supposed to last only a few months. She considers this to be her ‘second birth’, while her ‘first birth’ happened twenty-seven years earlier in Bergamo, a provincial town in the foothills of the Italian Alps.

In this absorbing memoir which is a factual chronicle of her life story but also reads like a travelogue, she tells how her identity was forged during the student protests sweeping Europe in the late 1960s, a time when she rebelled against conservative society, her Catholic upbringing and her authoritarian father. She joins a theatre group after finishing school and explores different aspects of physical theatre. At the same time she’s drawn to Eastern philosophy, earning a doctorate degree from the University of Venice.

Her interest in the East and her experiments in theatre and a search for a ‘complete body movement vocabulary’ inevitably take her to India. After a first exploratory overland trip, she returns a few years later for an intensive workshop in Kathakali in Kerala and travels to Bhubaneswar, Orissa where she takes her first lessons in Odissi from renowned dancer Sanjukta Panigrahi. Her third departure for India in 1979 becomes her last one: she eventually makes Orissa her home, studying with guru Kelucharan Mohapatra until his death in 2004, and in the meantime making a name for herself as a performer and choreographer of Odissi and Chhau (which she studies under guru Sri Hari Nayak), establishing her own dance institution in Bhubaneswar, and eventually being conferred the prestigious Padma Shri award by the Indian government in recognition of her contribution to Odissi.

In the book, Citaristi reveals the challenges of being a foreign student of Indian dance, attracting at first the support but also antagonism of other dancers, and experiencing heated opposition to her very first innovative works in a staunchly classical milieu. She also shares many amusing anecdotes about the inevitable clashes she experiences between the two cultural worlds she occupies. Having rejected authority and asserted her feminist and egalitarian ideals during her student days, in India she finds herself submitting herself to the demands of a traditional dance form and guru. She tells the humorous story of how her guru left the room the first time she stood before him with her “mass of unruly curly hair”, long rainbow-coloured skirt and sleeveless t-shirt. She took a hint from a fellow student to “cover herself more” and appeared for dance class the next day in what she thought was an appropriate kurta, only to have her teacher take her aside and mumble the word ‘bra’. Finding herself far, far away from her bra-burning feminist days, she urgently telegrammed her mother to send her all her bikini tops without delay!

The theme of transformation is a dominant one. When her parents came for a visit a year and a half after her arrival in India, they are surprised to find their rebellious hippie daughter transformed: her ‘wild hair’ is tied back neatly and she’s wearing a sari. She describes her transformation as the culmination of her search: “The rebel in me did not have reason to exist anymore since I had found what I was searching for.”

This memoir is of obvious interest to students of Indian classical dance and readers who enjoy reading about cross-cultural experiences and travelogues related to India. It is also an important chronicle of the author’s experiences learning under one of India’s most renowned dance gurus. Considering the author is a non-native English speaker, the book would have benefited from more careful editing.

Ileana Citaristi is also the author of The Making of a Guru, a biography of guru Kelucharan Mohapatra (2001), and Traditional Martial Practices in Odisha (2012).

You can watch a video of Ileana Citaristi speaking about A Tale of Two Births here.

Published in the Autumn 2015 issue of Pulse magazine.

Experiences of the traditional gurukul system: past and present

A fellow dance friend was dismayed when her teacher told her she was going to the US for a series of summer workshops and would be away for two months. “Not to worry,” her guru assured her, “we can continue our classes via Skype.” I thought of a musician friend in Calcutta who holds regular Skype lessons with his students in Europe, and reflected that this new trend in ‘tele-teaching’ seems far removed from the traditional gurukul system where students used to live and study under the same roof as their gurus. Students were able to interact closely with their teachers, who gave them dedicated and focussed training, and often taught them not only an art but also a way of life. In today’s world where the study of the arts is often an extra-curricular activity, and teachers are also performers with busy performance schedules, teaching and learning has moved far away from the romantic ideal of the gurukul. Taken in today’s context, the traditional gurukul system does not seem practical or even feasible.

Curious about this traditional system of learning and its viability today, I spoke to musicians and dancers who have had the benefit of training in a gurukul. Some are attempting to continue this same tradition by teaching their own students in the same way. They shared with me their learning and teaching experiences and the challenges of replicating the gurukul system.

An experience learning under the traditional gurukul system

Chennai-based singer, composer, nattuvanar, and music and dancer teacher SK Suresh lived and studied for many years with his great-uncle, SK Rajaratnam Pillai, a renowned Bharata Natyam guru who trained many well-known dancers including Malavika Sarukkai, Priyadarsini Govind, and Vidhya Subramanian. Having closely worked for many years with well-known Bharata Natyam dancer Urmila Sathyanarayanan as vocalist, co-choreographer and composer, he also has his own dance school in Chennai. His mastery of not only music and nattuvangam but also dance, choreography and music composition reflect the all-round training and personal attention he received from years spent in close proximity to his guru from a young age.(Left: SK Suresh)

Hailing from a family of temple musicians serving the famous Murugan temple in Swamimalai, Tamil Nadu, SK Suresh was surrounded by music from a very young age and grew up listening to his father Pandanallur P.V. Kalidas playing the nadaswaram. Noticing the interest he had in music, his great-uncle and future guru, suggested to his parents that he should study music and dance with him. At the age of 12, he left his family in Swamimalai and went to live with his guru and his family in Chennai.

The young disciple spent the whole day with his teacher, observing all his classes, assisting him by singing, and imbibing all there was to learn about music, dance and nattuvangam. “In the early mornings I would practice my singing and then spend the rest of the day with him,” he recounts. “I didn’t have any proper lessons. I learned through observation and imitation and by absorbing everything. Of course he would correct me if I made mistakes and this is also how I learned. I was the only one learning with him in this way under the traditional gurukul system. Also, no one else learned nattuvangam with him. At that time gurus wouldn’t teach all the detailed aspects like laya calculation, choreography and nattuvangam – only dance.”

Another salient aspect of the gurukul system was seva. In return for training, the student was expected to assist in household and other chores, something the young SK Suresh did not mind contributing to: “I would wash his clothes, take him to the doctor, buy his medicines. I would go to the market to buy things, climb up the coconut trees to pluck coconuts, I even did the plumbing and electrical work!” (Right: SK Rajaratnam Pillai)

Having studied directly under his guru for seven years until his death in 1994, SK Suresh believes that this traditional system of learning is ideal for the mastery of an art and feels that this unique experience has been the foundation of his artistic development. “The gurukul system is the best way to master an art because it offers an all-round education,” he says. “At that time, the gurus were all-rounders, they mastered music, dance, nattuvangam and knew all the intricacies of tala, how to compose jatis, the structure to be followed for items, how to compose music, which beats of an adavu should be hard and which soft. When I’m composing, I think back to my time with my guru, remember his rendition of jatis, go through the composition and then compose. The training I had with him provided a strong foundation for me which still guides me today.”

Reviving the gurukul system

Today, of course, the way music and dance is taught and learnt has changed. In India, as elsewhere, music and dance students usually study part-time, commuting a few times a week to meet their teacher and learn in a classroom environment. The study of music and dance has also become institutionalised, with universities and schools offering diplomas and degrees in these disciplines for those who wish to study them full-time. However, there is a renewed interest in the traditional gurukul method of teaching which some schools are trying to replicate. Though there are several residential schools offering training in music and dance ‘in the guru-shishya parampara’, students do not usually live with their teachers, and teacher-student interaction is limited to class hours. Also, a student may have several teachers and not the dedicated attention of one guru, as was usually the case under the traditional gurukul system. Though this concept endures, its form has changed, just as the nature of the traditional teacher-student relationship has evolved.

Pune-based Dhrupad vocalist Uday Bhawalkar, a frequent performer in London’s Indian classical music circuit, studied in a gurukul for many years and teaches his students in his own home, applying the same approach to intensive full-time training as the one he experienced under his gurus. I happened to meet the singer and three of his students in Varanasi during the Dhrupad Mela in 2010. They were having an impromptu class on the terrace of the hotel. Though they were away from the gurukul, this did not take away from class time, and they had even practiced on the long 25-hour train journey from Pune. During the concert that evening, the students accompanied their guru onstage who provided them with many opportunities to showcase their own talent. (Above: Uday Bhawalkar)

Bhawalkar had left the family home at 15 to study and live with Dhrupad maestros Ustad Zia Fariduddin Dagar and Ustad Zia Mohiuddin Dagar, spending 12 years with them in Bhopal and Mumbai. “The daily routine was learning and practicing music from 4am to 5pm, apart from the household work of the gurukul,” he says. “I dedicated myself to my gurus, and learning music from them has taught me a way of life. The Ustads gave us a vision, perspective and approach towards the note, raag and music and made us realise its depths. To learn Indian classical music, the guru-shishya parampara is the only option to learn in a proper manner. It does not have restrictions or constraints relating to time or any other issues. The student learns the subtle nuances of the note and the mood and personality of the raag the moment the guru is inspired to do so.”

Nrityagram: a modern-day gurukul

Any casual visitor to Nrityagram on the outskirts of Bangalore cannot help but be charmed and inspired by the unique creative atmosphere of its beautiful rural campus of rustic buildings, sculpture gardens and outdoor performance spaces. It was founder Protima Bedi’s dream to establish a dance gurukul here, and today, 24 years after its conception, her disciples and now renowned dancers Surupa Sen, artistic director, and Bijayini Satpathy, head of the Odissi gurukul, continue her legacy. (Above: the Nrityagram campus)

Known for high standards and rigorous training, students train here for 8 hours a day, 6 days a week. Scholarships are offered to deserving residential students who wish to pursue dance as a career. Also, over 300 local children have been trained in Odissi for free through the village outreach programme. The residential students participate in the running of the dance community by working in the organic garden, cleaning the gurukul, helping in the kitchen or the office, and assisting the teachers. The running of the school is almost entirely sustained through the proceeds from the performances of the Nrityagram Dance Ensemble, which has received critical acclaim worldwide and tours regularly.

For Satpathy, her guru was not only a teacher but also an inspiration and role model. “She was a multi-tasker and did everything to a high level of excellence. She practiced every day regardless of how hectic the day or how late in the evening it was. To see this as a living example was inspiring and easy to admire and imbibe.” Satpathy and Sen have obviously not only received meticulous training, but have also been inspired by their own guru’s work ethic and strive for excellence, which instilled a total dedication to the continuation of her dream and vision. “Our's has been an exploration and revival of traditional gurukul education keeping intact the core values that govern this system of pursuing art: an intense discipline combined with a shared belief of excellence couched in a community environment,” explains Sen. “We practice dance here as if it was life itself and learning has meant living every moment with acute awareness of the smallest things that impact our lives and therefore our art. Living with a teacher who teaches by example, working for the community, growing our own food, sharing space with people from different backgrounds and most importantly, spending a minimum of 8 to 12 hours in the dance class. To my mind, there is no better way to pursue a dream of being an artist other than this. And I am grateful to have found it.” (Right:Protima Bedi)

The challenges of traditional learning in a modern context

For Sen and Satpathy, there is no doubt that living and studying in a community gurukul setting is the ideal way to gain thorough training in a dance form like Odissi. However, attracting the right kind of student willing to live in a setting removed from the outside world where total dedication to an old tradition is expected, can be a challenge. “Becoming a good dancer is faster when you live and learn as we do at Nrityagram, compared to attending weekly classes, but it is rigorous, physically, mentally and emotionally,” says Satpathy. “To succeed you need patience and humility. Unfortunately patience and humility are becoming non-existent in our youth and without these, this tradition cannot survive.” Sen adds: “Finding dancers who 'believe' in our art like we do and want to pursue it in the traditional gurukul system seem few and far between. Short term 'fixes' seem more the norm and we are constantly trying to find ways to inspire and impact young minds in the modern context to appreciate and help preserve this deeply beautiful art form.”

Though the gurukul system may offer the dedicated intensive training and personalised attention required to excel, it is fraught with other contemporary challenges. “The psychology of this era is that academic education is a basic requirement and art is something additional one may pursue,” points out Bhawalkar. “In this case, there is a division of time and attention. Secondly, most of the gurus today are performers of the art which makes them travel extensively which may lead to less time for the students.” SK Suresh agrees that academic study is given higher value in India today than the study of the arts and that students’ attention is dispersed due to multiple extra-curricular activities, of which music or dance is just another. “The gurukul system is not possible today,” he maintains, “because there is a lot of importance put on academic studies today, and young children today have so many things to do: drawing, swimming, music, violin, etc.” Of course, resources are another obstacle. A teacher may not have sufficient space in his or her home to accommodate students and not have the funds required to provide a dedicated space for a community learning environment. “Finding the funds is an ongoing ordeal,” concurs Sen. “Art requires the support of the government and people to develop and build an aesthetic and nurturing society. Yet this appears to be the least deserving of all in the modern Indian and global scenario.” (Above: Bijayini Satpathy and Surupa Sen. Photo: E. Rousseau.)

In this new era of Skype gurus, the traditional gurukul system seems outdated and a challenge to sustain. However, we have seen examples of how those who are committed to this method of teaching and learning have revived it, adapting it to modern circumstances. Though there are challenges, the outcomes are often fruitful. Sen shares the tangible results she has observed: “Participating in the teaching of an old tradition is a great responsibility and I approach it as such and try to do the best I can. Old methods sometimes have to give way to new to suit a changing psyche. For the most part the transformation that I have noticed in students who come to Nrityagram has been astonishing. Almost like seeing a 'before' and 'after' photograph! And not just in their abilities as dancers but in their overall personalities. And always spectacularly for the better! The passion for the dance is what I try to pass on along with a deep understanding of the language that makes up this art form. In the end, we hope that they will emerge as better dancers and better people.”

An edited version of this article was published in the Winter 2014 issue of Pulse magazine.

The last Mahari

Above: Shashimani in 2011. (Photo by Sandrine Da Costa)

UPDATE: Shashimani passed away on March 19, 2015. You can read her obituary in the New York Times at this link.

The Maharis were the temple dancers who performed for Lord Jagannath in the Jagannath temple in Puri, Orissa. Dating back to the 12th century, the Jagannath temple is an important place of pilgrimage for Hindus. This temple was also once a great cultural centre where dancers and singers would worship Lord Jagannath through dance and song as part of the daily temple rituals.

Shashimani is the last remaining Mahari belonging to this temple tradition. She is now in her late 80s and lives in a lane close to the great temple. Two years ago, while conducting research for an upcoming film on Odissi, I along with the film’s director, Sandrine Da Costa, had the chance to meet Shashimani and have a short discussion with her.

We climbed up a narrow staircase to a dark room where Shashimani lives, in the house of a temple servitor. When she was told that she had visitors, she excitedly asked her student who was with her to help her apply the bright red dot of sindoor on her forehead. She wrapped the end of her sari over her head as she received us with her hands joined in a respectful namaste. She sat on the floor of her modest room and motioned for us to sit too.

Shashimani told us how she was dedicated to the Jagannath temple by her parents at the age of seven. Through a ceremony called Sari Bandhan she was formally married to the god. “When the marriage knot was tied with Lord Jagannath we became Maharis, she explained. “From that day, we became the wives of Lord Jagannath.” The Maharis would then be considered to be married women and would remain wedded to the god for the rest of their lives.

There were many dancers connected to this temple and each had specific duties (seva) to perform. There were 21 different sevas and the Maharis would take turns going to the temple to perform the rituals. “Each Mahari had different sevas to perform,” Shashimani explained.. I would dance in the morning when Jagannath would be woken up, and at night when he would be put to sleep. The other sevas were performed by the other Maharis. I would come to the temple for seva four to five times a month. After the other Maharis died, I was the only one left.”

Shashimani was a Bheetar-gani Mahari, a Mahari who would dance inside the temple sanctum. “When the main temple door closed after arati, we would sing and dance inside the sanctum for Lord Jagannath until the door opened again.” Sometimes she would also dance for the god during dhupa, the evening meal. “During dhupa we only danced, we wouldn’t sing. He would take a long time to eat and we would get tired,” she lamented. “We wanted him to eat quickly!” When I asked her what would happen after the temple doors closed for the night, she hastily replied: “Don’t ask me what happens at night time! No dancing!”

She also described for us the costumes the Maharis would wear: “We would get all decked up and wear lots of heavy jewellery from the neck to the navel. We would wear bangles and beautiful silk saris and a big garland. We would even have jewellery in our hair and decorating the nose – we would be completely covered with heavy gold jewellery. Who dresses like that today?”

The Maharis would also dance during festive occasions. She told us about the Chandan Yatra, one of the most important festivals honouring Lord Jagannath. “In front of the Lord we would dance and sing. Then he would be taken to Narendra pond. While the Lord played in the water we would sing many bhajans and songs from the Gita Govinda. After playing in the pond, the Lord would have his meal and then have a nap. In the evening he would go to the pond again. Again we would go with him and dance and sing.”

Shashimani stopped dancing in the temple five years ago because she no longer had the stamina to continue. She told us that the Mahari tradition has gradually faded because there are no Maharis left to perform the rituals. “The other Maharis have all passed away and I’m the only one left. How much can I do?” she concluded.

For a temple dancer who used to get decked up in silk saris and heavy gold jewellery, Shashimani now lives a very austere life. Unsurprisingly, she expected a donation for the time she spent with us and after refusing the first generous offer, did not hesitate to state her price. This article I came across on the Internet describes her situation in more detail and calls on the temple authorities to assume responsibility for former ‘temple servants’.

The upcoming film on Odissi will feature video footage of our interview with Shashimani. The film is still work in progress and is expected to be released in 2014. For updates, visit this page.

Odissi dancer and scholar Ileana Citaristi, wrote a fascinating detailed account of the lives of the temple dancers of Jagannath temple back in 1985. She has kindly shared this article with Sacred Space - you can read it at this link.

The text I’m pasting below was written in 1972 by Ragini Devi (taken from her book Dance Dialects of India) and offers a glimpse into the lives of the Maharis:

The Maharis of Jagannath Temple

When the great temple of Lord Jagannath became the matrix of the religious and cultural life of Orissa, the role of the Maharis in the daily rituals and festivals is clearly defined. It is said that in the 12th century King Chodaganga Deva established seven colonies for temple servants (Sebayatas) adjacent to the temple, and the place allotted to the Maharis was known as ‘Anga Alasa Patna’ the ‘place of bodily gestures’.

Maharis are the holy brides of Lord Jagannath. A piece of cloth taken from the idol is tied around the head of the initiate danseuse by the temple priest to symbolize her marriage to the deity of the shrine.

Maharis are vowed to chastity and their sacred duties and daily life are supervised by the Mina Nayak and the Sahi Nayak, temple servants appointed by the king. A valuable manuscript, Niladri Archana Chandrika, written by a Mahari of Jagannath Temple, describes the ritual dances of Maharis, and their daily life and customs.

Maharis are richly attired for temple service. After bathing, fragrant sandalwood paste is applied to the body. A colourful silk sari of traditional pattern is draped around the body and tied at the waist. A tight bodice covers the breasts. The face is decorated with the sacred ‘tilak’ mark between the brows, and delicate patterns of white dots are applied above the brows and on the cheeks. Fingertips, palms and feet are tinted crimson, and they eyes are lined black with collyrium. The hair is parted and knotted in a chignon wreathed with flowers and adorned with a golden curved disk pierced with a peg of ivory and gold. Beautiful gold ornaments decorate the head, neck, arms, ears, nose, waist and ankles.

Covering her head with a veil, the Mahari goes to the temple accompanied by the Mina Nayak. She is escorted to the inner shrine by the Rajguru, who bears a gold-mounted staff as a symbol of the king’s authority. He is always present at the dance rituals, and, after obeisance to the deity, the Mahari bows to him before beginning her dance.

There are two classes of Maharis at the Jagannath Temple. The Bheetar-gani Maharis are those who dance exclusively before the deity in the inner shrine. The Bahar-gani Maharis dance in the hall of dance (Nata Mandir) or in the temple courtyard near the Garuda pillar. Other temple servants who render daily service are the Gaudisanis, temple maids who fan the idol with charmaris, Gita-ganis (singers), and musicians who play veena, drone, drums, flute, and cymbals to accompany the dance.

There are two daily rituals at Jagannath – one at midday and the other at night. At the midday Sakala Bhupa ceremony when consecrated food is offered to Lord Jagannath, a Bahargani Mahari dances in the Nata Mandir and sacred songs are sung.

At night, after the Sanja Dhupa or food offering and just before the ritual adornment of the idol, prior to his nightly retirement, a Bheetar-gani Mahari renders dance and song before the deity. A portion of the food offerings is given to the Maharis, and this is the only food they are allowed to eat on the days of their temple service.

According to temple records there were twenty Maharis serving Lord Jagannath in the 15th century, each dancer taking her turn in the daily rituals, and all of them participating in the religious festivals. There are sixty-two annual festivals in honour of Jagannath and in two of these the Maharis have an important part. In the Chandan Jatra or Spring Festival, the image of Jagannath is taken in procession to a large tank about three miles from the temple and installed in a boat. Two boats are set afloat, one carrying Maharis, and the other Gotipuas in female dress, to entertain Lord Jagannath with songs and dances. In the Jhoolan Jatra the image of Jagannath is placed on a swing, and entertained by Maharis and Gotipuas with songs and dances.

Maharis, as a community of Jagannath, were exclusive teachers of their art. It was a custom for Maharis to adopt daughters and train them for dance service in the temple. Thus the dance retained its artistic purity and sanctity for at least six hundred years.

Maharis continue to dance in the Jagannath Temple, but their beautiful rituals belong to the past. The dance offering is perfunctory, for the sake of custom. Maharis receive a portion of the food offering and no maintenance or quarters are given to them, as before. Many of them have left the profession, and those who serve the temple are living in penury. It is only now that their art has become precious and they are in demand as teachers of dancing. (By Ragini Devi, Dance Dialects of India, 1972)

Upcoming film: Odissi - from the temples to the contemporary stage

Documentary filmmaker Sandrine Da Costa’s latest project takes a look at the history and evolution of Odissi, the classical dance from the state of Orissa. I had the opportunity to collaborate with Sandrine on this project last July. We travelled around Orissa visiting dance schools and meeting gurus and dancers, as well as dance historians, musicians and art critics.

This 2.4-minute ‘teaser’ is just a hint of what’s to come. The film features many well-known dancers, gurus, teachers and dance personalities, including: the gotipua dancers and gurus at Konark Natya Mantap, Bhubaneswar-based dancers Ileana Citaristi, Sujata Mohapatra, Saswat Joshi, Sagarika Mohanty, Guru Bichitrananda Swain and dancers of Rudraksh; Surupa Sen and Bijayini Satpathy of Nrityagram, Bangalore; dance historian Dr Sunil Kothari; dance writer Shyamhari Chakra; Shasimani, former devadasi of Jagannath Temple; and singer Bijay Kumar Jena amongst others.

The documentary is scheduled for completion in 2013. To stay informed about updates, visit the filmmaker's website: http://www.sandrinedacosta.fr.

Dance jewellery: A trend towards minimal elegance?

Bedecked and bejewelled: Shobana modelling Prince Jewellery's temple jewellery

From the rakkodi on the crown of her head, to the nupura adorning her feet, the classical dancer is literally bejewelled from head to toe. Jewellery is an essential part of the dance costume. It adds sparkle to a dancer’s appearance and enhances the visual effect and aesthetic appeal of her dance, invoking rasa in the observer.

The use of costume and jewellery is called aharya abhinaya, one of the four types of abhinaya described in the Natya Shastra, Bharata Muni’s classical treatise on the performing arts. It mentions the four types of jewellery or ornaments to be worn by a dancer, which “if used properly and with understanding add beauty to the body.” It then illustrates in detail the specific ornaments to be worn by male and female performers. While these number to 16 for men, there are over 38 for women, including six for the hair and head, eight for the ear, six for the neck, at least two garlands of jewels and pearls for the breast, eight for the hands and fingers, five for the hips, and three for the ankles and feet!

Bedecked and bejewelled in this way, it is difficult to imagine how a dancer can attempt even the simplest dance movement. However, after this detailed description, the ancient text does concede that too much jewellery can restrict movement and defeat its very purpose: “Too many ornaments are not to be used lest the artists feel tired or hindered in free movements. Weighed down with heavy ornaments one cannot move much and one is likely to feel exhausted. So decoration not done properly is no decoration at all.”

It is no surprise that many dancers today prefer a minimal use of jewellery. Real jewellery made of pure gold and precious stones is heavy and cumbersome – and not to mention, exceedingly expensive. Among some dancers today there seems to be a trend towards reducing the ‘bejewelled from head-to-toe’ look to one of minimal elegance which responds to the dictate that less is certainly more.

Less is more: Aditi Mangaldas (Image source: her website)

“I don’t wear any jewellery when I’m performing contemporary dance,” explains renowned danseuse and choreographer, Aditi Mangaldas. “But I like to wear jewellery when I’m doing traditional Kathak. Traditional Kathak jewellery is made of gold, uncut diamonds, emeralds and rubies. Most of the jewellery I use is Jadau jewellery which I find in Ahmedabad, Hyderabad and Lucknow. When I wear a beautiful piece of jewellery, it gives me a sense of grandeur even if it’s just a small thing. I think jewellery adds embellishment to a dancer: the tikka frames the face, and bangles bring attention to the wrists because we use a lot of mudras and wrist movements. I like to keep the look minimal but classy. I don’t like heavy, overbearing jewellery. For me, jewellery has to be as light as possible but it also has to look real. I wear only a tikka, earrings and slightly thick bangles on each wrist. I don’t wear long necklaces anymore. I don’t like wearing rings or anything on my feet.”

Minimal elegance: Rama Vaidyanathan (Photo by Avinash Pasricha. Source: Rama's website)

For leading Bharatanatyam dancer Rama Vaidyanathan, the sheer resplendence of South Indian temple jewellery is a good reason not to wear too much of it. “I love temple jewellery because its vibrant colours are very striking,” she reveals. “It’s the ideal jewellery to wear with Kanchivaram saris because it matches so well. But because it’s so striking, I don’t want to clutter myself. The less I wear, the more it stands out.” Rama gives much thought and importance to her jewellery: “I choose my jewellery to match the costume I’m wearing but also according to the theme of the performance,” she explains. “For example, one of my recent productions, Akhilam Madhuram, is based on Krishna and the symbolism of Mathura and Vrindavan, and explores the theme of bhakti. I used Rudraksha beads which are significant for their healing powers and matched it with a Tanjore pendant. I like old, traditional pieces and I often come up with my own designs. My inspiration comes from temple sculptures, old Tanjore paintings and Ravi Varma paintings.”

The vibrant colours of the contrasting deep red rubies and brilliant green emeralds of temple-style jewellery are indeed visually striking. The intricate, often symmetrical designs are inspired by temple sculptures as well as motifs found in nature like flowers, lotuses, leaves and creepers, fruits like mangoes, and animals like peacocks and swans. The traditional jewellery was made of pure gold and embedded with uncut diamonds, rubies, emeralds and pearls. Today replicas are made in silver and covered in gold leaf, with semi-precious stones.

This jewellery worn by Bharata Natyam and Kuchipudi dancers has a very long tradition dating back over 5000 years to the Nayaka period. This jewellery of gold and precious stones was traditionally made for temple idols by master craftsmen whose workshops were located within the precincts of temples. Nagercoil, a temple town in Tamil Nadu, is famous for its temple jewellery which would be used to adorn the temple deities during important festivals. It was also worn by the resident temple dancers, a tradition which has continued onto the stage today.

Temple jewellery not only adorns and embellishes a dancer, it is also believed to have a deeper significance. Pure gold is believed to promote well-being. The surya worn on the right side of the head and the chandra on the left brings positive energy to the dancer allowing her art to flourish. The rokkodi worn on the crown of the head protects the brain.

In contrast to the opulent temple jewellery of South India, the silver jewellery used by Odissi dancers is elegantly understated. Cuttack in the state of Orissa is famous for its silver filigree work. Orissan tribal jewellery is also made of silver. The silver belt worn by Odissi dancers as well as the tahia or crown, are unique to this dance style.

“Odissi jewellery has a distinct style,” explains celebrated Odissi dancer Sujata Mohapatra. “It adds beauty and elegance to the dance. The tahia (crown) is unique to this dance style and resembles a temple spire. The bengapatia, (silver belt) is also unique to Odissi. The maharis who had danced in the temples had worn many necklaces around the neck and several chains around the waist. The leading gurus had come together and decided on the aesthetics of the Odissi costume and jewellery. It should not be too heavy. The beauty of the body has to be seen.”

Elegantly understated: Sujata Mohapatra (Photo by Alec Himwich)

Inspiration for the Odissi costume came from temple sculptures as well as the Abhinaya Chandrika, written in the 15th century by Maheswara Mohapatra. This text mentions the costume, ornaments and make-up to be used for Odissi and describes a silver belt to be worn around the waist. In her biography of Guru Kelucharan Mohapatra, The Making of a Guru, Odissi dancer Ileana Citaristi recounts when the bengapatia was first introduced: A broken and discoloured bengapatia was found in an old box of jewellery belonging to the mother of a Brahmin from Puri. Guru Kelucharan Mohapatra painstakingly rethreaded the belt and meticulously cleaned it with tamarind. It was first worn by legendary dancer Sanjukta Panigrahi at the All-India Dance Seminar held in Hyderabad in 1963. Now it has become a hallmark of the Odissi costume.

For practical and aesthetic reasons, there seems to be a trend among dancers towards reducing the ‘covered from head-to-toe’ look to one of minimal elegance which responds to the dictate that less is certainly more. Dancers agree that jewellery should embellish the dancer but not hamper the dance. Afterall, as Bharata Muni cautions in the Natya Shastra: “decoration not done properly is no decoration at all.”

A modified version of this article was published in the June 2011 issue of On Stage magazine.

Nrityagram: Living for dance

Deep in the South Indian countryside, there is a place where dancers live to dance,

“…a place where anyone with a passion for dance could come and stay and train, not having to worry about finances or anything else, and devote themselves one hundred per cent to dance. The students would live on the campus learning all the major classical dance styles from the best gurus.”

This was late classical dancer Protima Bedi’s dream and vision for a dance village. Her dream was realised when she built Nrityagram 18 years ago as a labour of love in a quiet, isolated setting in rural Karnataka on the outskirts of the city of Bangalore. Today the founder is no more, and there are only a handful of students studying only one classical dance style, Odissi. But Protima Bedi’s spirit and legacy live on at the school and in the Nrityagram Dance Ensemble, which has received international acclaim during its tours around the globe for its impeccable technique and breath-taking choreography. If Protima were still alive today, she would be proud of her dancers’ artistic excellence and absolute commitment to their art. (Image left: Bijayini Satpathy by Marie Luare)

What is the recipe for Nrityagram’s success? “Our dancers are completely dedicated,” says Surupa Sen, one of the first students to join the school in 1991, who is now Nrityagram’s Artistic Director. “They have integrity and passion. Also, we aim for excellence in dance and the work we do. I hate mediocrity. I want to do things well. Most people are satisfied with mediocrity and don’t ask for a lot. We have no room for mediocrity here.” A good dose of integrity, dedication and passion is definitely necessary to succeed, but so is lots of old-fashioned hard work. The dancers face a rigorous training schedule. Their day starts at 6am for a run through the countryside, followed by yoga and body-conditioning exercises before their dance practice begins. After a break for lunch, classes continue in the afternoon. In total, the dancers put in 8 hours of physical exercise a day, six days a week.

Surupa is one of the most innovative and exciting choreographers in India today. Her highly-developed sense of aesthetics, brilliant imagination and keen attention to detail for everything from the patterns created by the dancers onstage to exquisite music and stunning costumes has taken the Nrityagram Dance Ensemble to great heights. She was awarded the best choreography award by the prestigious Madras Music Academy in 2006 for Sacred Space, a dance production based on temple architecture and its relationship to dance. “I see dance and movement as a kaleidoscope of images,” she explains. “If you break them up, you will see different ways of doing things. Each dance has its own beauty. Odissi is made up of semi-circular patterns. We create movements. The dance evolves, and we keep adding details. This is a natural process. It’s organic. The dance didn’t look like this 2000 years ago. It’s a natural, constantly evolving process. You have to get into the skin of the dance, no – the bones, to know the specifics. You have to feel it in your marrow.” (Right: Surupa Sen by Eric Rousseau)

Having evolved in an isolated, rural and fertile setting deep in South India, under the influence and guidance of different gurus, and far away from the birthplace of Odissi in the Bay of Bengal, the Nrityagram style has developed a distinctive flavour which is its own. While deeply grounded in traditional Odissi vocabulary, it has been expanded to include an additional creative dimension which adds to the visual aesthetics of the dance. The use of leg extensions, arresting poses and energetic leaps, combined with the visual juxtapositions of the dancers on stage, and an effective use of space and stage presentation make their performances highly energetic, exciting and entertaining.

The Odissi gurukul at Nrityagram is headed by leading dancer Bijayini Satpathy who has received many accolades in the press and her fair share of prestigious awards. She joined Nrityagram, after receiving the foundation of her training at the Orissa Dance Academy in Bhubaneswar, when she was invited by Protima Bedi to join Nrityagram’s first tour to the US in 1993. She feels that her experience at Nrityagram was a turning point in her journey as a dancer: “It has opened up my eyes to the dance and to a different way of seeing, understanding and feeling dance.“ Students at Nrityagram not only learn dance technique but are also taught how to understand movement and body dynamics through training in body awareness and conditioning techniques. (Above: Nrityagram Dance Ensemble by Carlos Llano)

Special classes are conducted on Sundays for local children through the village outreach programme. In this way, over 300 children have received free dance training at Nrityagram. Pavithra Reddy is one of these children who has grown up to become a permanent member of the dance ensemble and a rising star. Another important member of the Nrityagram family is its Managing Trustee, Lynne Fernandez, who has been at Nrityagram almost from the very beginning and wears many hats: from administration to fundraising and project development, she also creates the stunning lighting effects which accompany the dancers on stage.

Nrityagram’s leafy rural setting and traditional, rustic architecture is quite unique and evokes another time. While this idyllic dance village does seem to occupy another time and place, there are fault lines lurking just below the surface. The 10 acres of land where Nrityagram stands is on lease from the government and the lease is due to come up soon. Though its exquisite buildings were designed by an award-winning architect, they are practically falling to the ground. “Nrityagram is harder to run than it was to build,” laments Surupa. “There are maintenance costs. We have 10 acres of land, 15 workers, 3 office staff. The buildings are beyond repair.” With the Ensemble’s busy international touring schedule, the difficulty in attracting dedicated students and the need for financial resources, teaching at the school has taken a back seat. “The dance school is not easy to run. Lots of students have quit, the school is in an isolated area, there is no funding. Dancers coming to Nrityagram need to have a certain mindset because they have to give up everything to come here and live in a community setting. Also, sometimes it’s hard for a dancer to have family backing.” Though Nrityagram did had a Mohiniattam gurukul for 6 years, as well as Bharatanatyam and Kathak classes for 3 years, the Odissi gurukul is the only one which has been able to sustain itself through the Ensemble’s international tours. Even the village outreach classes have suffered a setback: a van used to go around the local villages picking up children to take them to dance class but it has broken down. If they want to come to class, they have to find a way to come on their own. (Above: Nrityagram campus by Isabel)

With these challenges and obstacles to face, what is the future of the dance school? Surupa and Bijayini take a realistic view of things: “We’re committed to Nrityagram and Gauri Ma’s dream but we have a different vision. It’s not possible to have seven gurukuls. Also, we feel that students should have to pay for their training. Things that are free are seen to have no value. There should be a value attached to learning. We don’t believe in giving it away for free!”

Faced with crumbling buildings, disappearing students, and a broken-down van, the dance school may need a new lease of life, but Nrityagram is still alive and thriving in its Dance Ensemble. It is through the love and passion that it was built on and the dedication and devotion of its dancers that Nrityagram thrives despite the difficulties. Protima Bedi may be no more but her dream and legacy live on. (Above: Pavithra Reddy, Bijayini Satpathy and Surupa Sen in rehearsal by Isabel)

This article was published in the September 2008 issue of Pulse magazine.

Photos courtesy of Nrityagram.

An Introduction to Indian Classical Dance

(Above: Rukmini Devi)

India’s many styles of popular, folk and classical dances are as rich and colourful as the country itself. Bollywood dance is probably the most popular dance associated with India thanks to the popularity of Bollywood films, not only in India but also abroad. These prolonged and energetic dance sequences are a vital ingredient of any Bollywood flick – along with a good dose of melodrama and a few fight scenes!

However the Bollywood-style of dance seen in Indian films today is something that has evolved over the history of film-making in India. Dance has always been a vital feature in Indian cinema, though in earlier films, the dances featured were always classical, choreographed by the great dance gurus of the time. Renowned Bengali director, Satyajit Ray’s classic films like The Music Room (1958) and The Chess Players (1977) featured professional dancers performing classical (North Indian) Kathak dance. Tamil films like Parthiban Kanavu (1960) and Konjum Salangai (1962) included mesmerizing dance sequences of the (South Indian) classical dance Bharata Natyam by renowned dancers. (Below: Saswati Sen in Satyajit Ray's The Chess Players)

So what makes a dance classical? There are eight Indian dance-styles which are classified as ‘classical’ because they all have their roots in the Natyashastra, a classical treatise on the arts believed to have been written in Sanskrit by Bharata Muni sometime between 200BC and 200AD. This text covers several aspects relating to drama, dance and music. It covers the facial expressions, hand gestures, head and eye movements, and some of the body positions and movements which are common to the classical dance styles.

Many of the classical dances were traditionally performed in temples as a sacred offering to the gods by resident dancers. Today classical dance is performed on stage, most often by solo dancers, though group compositions and innovations in dance choreography are also very popular. All classical dances have two distinctive elements: nritta or pure dance which is abstract dance movements, and the facial expressions (abhinaya) and hand gestures (hastas) of its expressive dance element, or nritya. It takes several years of rigorous training to learn and master any of these Indian classical dance traditions.

There are four classical dances having their roots in South India: Kathakali and Mohiniattam from the state of Kerala, Bharata Natyam from Tamil Nadu, and Kuchipudi from Andhra Pradesh. In North India we find the origins of Kathak, Odissi from the state of Orissa, Manipuri from the north-eastern state of Manipur, and Sattriya from north-eastern Assam.

Traditionally performed only by men, Kathakali from Kerala literally means ‘story-dance’. Performances include several dancers enacting scenes and different characters from Hindu mythology, especially the Ramayana and Mahabharata. This ‘larger-than-life’ art form features bright billowing costumes, colourful make-up, exaggerated expressions and frenetic music which is played by accompanying drummers.

Kerala’s other classical dance, Mohiniattam, is a graceful and alluring dance performed by women, most often solo. The movements are soft and graceful, characterised by gliding movements. The torso moves in circular figure-8 movements with the legs kept in a half-bent (demi-plié) position. The footwork is rhythmical and energetic, keeping time with the music. Mohiniattam dancers are always dressed in beautiful white and gold costumes.

Originating more than 2000 years ago in the south-eastern state of Tamil Nadu, Bharata Natyam is one of the most popular Indian classical dance styles, performed by both male and female dancers. The quick, rhythmical footwork is mathematical in its precision, while symmetrical, geometrical patterns and lines are drawn by the intricate arm and leg movements, and dramatic poses. Like Mohiniattam and Kuchipudi, a distinctive feature of the dance is its basic posture in the half-sitting or demi-plié position.

The classical dance of the state of Andhra Pradesh, Kuchipudi, is similar in many ways to Bharata Natyam with its rhythmical footwork and quicksilver movements. A unique feature of the Kuchipudi style is Tarangam, a technique where the dancer dances on a brass plate while moving it across the stage.

One of the most popular Indian classical dances is Kathak which has three main schools or styles based in the North Indian cities of Lucknow, Banaras (Varanasi) and Jaipur. Kathak is characterised by fast rhythmical footwork set to complex rhythms, and impressive lightning-fast pirouettes finishing in precise, dramatic poses. The rhythm and tempo of the dance is set by the accompanying percussion instrument, the tabla, the sounds of which the dancer’s feet emulate through quick, precise footwork accentuated with the sound of bells tied around the dancer’s ankles. Female dancers wear long flowing ankle-length skirts which twirl and flare out during spins and pirouettes, creating beautiful visual designs.

Odissi, the soft and lyrical dance from the eastern state of Orissa can be described as visual poetry! Considered to be linked to the element of water, the gracefulness of the arm and wrist movements, and fluid movements of the torso resembling waves on the ocean, are juxtaposed with firm rhythmical footwork and striking poses. The characteristic postures of this classical dance are the tribanghi, where the body is ‘bent’ in three places (head, waist and hip) and chawk, a quadrangular posture created by the knees bent outwards and outstretched arms forming a square. The love poems of the Gita Govinda describing the love between Radha and Lord Krishna, are a favourite theme of expressive pieces performed in the Odissi style.

From the mountainous region of Manipur on the north-eastern border of India, comes the graceful feminine dance called Manipuri. With delicate steps and gentle undulating movements, Manipuri dancers sway to the music while moving their arms in slow circles and arcs. The continuous flowing movements and curving of the body into different postures give this dance form a suppleness and fluidity which contrasts with the quick, sharp movements and strong footwork of the classical dances of South India. Like its movements, facial expressions are also soft and subtle. Manipuri dancers wear long, embroidered skirts along with translucent veils. Male Manipuri dancers play on a drum known as pung while executing exciting leaps and turns set to a fast rhythm.

Sattriya originated in the north-eastern Indian state of Assam, where this classical dance has been performed for centuries as a spiritual ritual in monasteries by male monks. Today the dance is a performing art also performed by women in solo and group performances. Though centuries old, Sattriya was officially recognised as a classical dance of India only a few years ago. The repertoire of this classical dance is vast, accompanied by traditional music from Assam which includes a drum called khol, cymbals, flute, violin as well as other instruments. Dancers wear distinctive Assamese costumes and ornaments.

This article was published in two parts in the April and May 2008 issues of Rangoli.