Source: Wikimedia Commons
Many, many years ago, in a world filled with bitterness, greed, jealousy and ugliness, the people of the earth yearned for something beautiful and enchanting, a thing of grace and wonder that would cut through the gloom and chaos and light up their world. In despair, they approached Brahma the Supreme Creator and begged him to create something which all the people could enjoy with all their senses, and which would take their minds off the wretchedness and misery of their lives.
Brahma went into a deep and lengthy meditation. Swirling through his mind were slokas and mantras from the Rig Veda, chants and sruthis from the Sama Veda, histrionics and expression from the Yajur Veda and emotions and sentiments from the Atharva Veda. And all of these came together in a brilliant amalgam, and thus was born the Natya Veda, the holy scripture of dance, music and drama.
Drawing inspiration directly from this Natya Veda of Brahma,
two thousand years ago, Sage Bharata wrote the Natya Shastra, a veritable
encyclopedia that covers every aspect of stagecraft, dance, music, costumes and
poetry, all haloed with the sheen of the divine and spiritual. Fact and fable,
history and mythology, these are the warp and weft of the Indian way of life,
and woven into this glorious tapestry is a glittering jewel: Bharata Natyam.
The rules of Bharata Natyam are laid out in staggering and
mind-boggling detail in the Natya Shastra. Almost every imaginable movement of
the eyebrows, the eyelids and the pupils, is described; the nose, the cheeks,
the chin, the lips, the neck, the knees, the arms, the legs – no part of the
body is too small or too big to escape description, categorization and
classification. Add in permutations and combinations of any or all of the
above, and one gets a sense of the vastness and thoroughness of this treatise. Blending
all the ingredients of drama, music and literature, Bharata Natyam – and all
classical Indian dance – has three components: Nritta, or pure dance, Natya,
the dramatic element, and Nritya, the histrionic element, also known as
abhinaya. All these together are the brick and mortar, the steel and concrete,
of Bharata Natyam. And here is where the greatness of Bharata Natyam is
revealed: it has taken this brick and mortar, this steel and concrete, and
fashioned something of extraordinary beauty, a feast for the eyes, the ears,
and the soul - a divine medium for narrating the story of life itself.
Born two thousand years ago, Bharata Natyam, the classical
dance of Tamil Nadu, has had a fascinating evolution. Imagine it as a vast
river, now sweeping sparklingly through a broad plain, now struggling through
an arid desert, now running, dark and barely visible through a gloomy forest,
but always flowing, always alive, gathering twigs and stones, carrying life and
death, endlessly replenishing itself with bracingly fresh water from
tributaries and rainfall, as it moves relentlessly and unstoppably on towards a
horizon and a future which nobody, and everybody, can see.
The name Bharata Natyam is a relatively recent one. Behind this name lies a saga of revivalist and reform movements, accusations of moral weakness, affectations of propriety and decorum, caste battles, nationalistic pride, and colonial repression. All this could have undone a weaker structure, but it was a trial by fire of sorts for Bharata Natyam, and it has emerged, stronger than ever, according to some, compromised and adulterated according to others, but alive it is, surging strongly towards that invisible horizon.
The devadasis belonged to a community which “married” its
girls to the temple deity. Temple ceremonies tied them for life to the temple. By and large, the “office” of the devadasi was a hereditary one,
although there were some women who, attracted by the economic independence, the
high status and the authority generated by this position, chose this path for
themselves. The best of the devadasis enjoyed the patronage of the wealthy and
influential members of society; this in turn benefited the temple.
Nothing lasts forever. The world of the devadasi, with its
kings and wealthy patrons, and insinuations of the nature of the relationship
between them, collided head-on with the British colonialists and their ideas of
morality and seemliness, and in the end, it was the devadasi world which lay in
the dust. The British, strongly and actively backed by many Indians, dismissed
the devadasi system as seedy and backward. The official death knell was struck
in 1947 with the Madras Devadasi Act, which abolished all temple dedications
and effectively killed this tradition.
One can view the devadasi system through many mirrors, and
each one will reflect back a different reality: the empowered female; the
prostitute; the temple property/commodity; the goose who laid the golden egg
for the temple and its community; the helpless woman under the control of her
male patrons, teachers and priests. Whatever one believes, the reality is that
this system is now dead. And the doors have been thrown open to a whole new
paradigm, from the closed, hereditary “unrespectable” devadasi one to one that has
become eagerly sought by the educated, upper caste, ultra-respectable elite,
performed on stages and auditoria where often a statue of Nataraja is the sole
nod to the temple tradition of yore.
The repertoire of the devadasis was varied and wide-ranging,
and a lot of it survives to this day. They performed ritual songs and dances,
mainly in Sanskrit and Telugu, like stotrams
(poems in praise of a particular deity) and pushpanjalis
(offering of flowers, seeking the deity’s blessings). They had a vast repertory
of artistic compositions, mostly in Tamil and Telugu, and these included the alarippu, varnam and padam. Often
the themes of the padams and varnams were performed in an erotically
explicit manner, which might have contributed to Sadir’s somewhat unsavory
reputation among the people of “good” families. Devotional songs and dances in
Tamil and Telugu were also popular, like the laali (lullaby) and taalattu
(cradle song). Kuravanjis, dance
dramas depicting a variety of stories and legends, were enormously popular, and
were sometimes performed over the course of several days.
The modern Bharata Natyam margam, (which means path), or
performance format, has its roots in the great Thanjavur Quartet, four brothers
who lived and worked during the early years of the 19th century in
the courts of the Maratha King Serfoji of Thanjavur, the Mysore King Rajendra
Odayar, and the Travancore King Swati Tirunal. These great brothers, Chinniah,
Ponnaiah, Shivananandam and Vadivelu, will be forever remembered for their
immense contributions to Bharata Natyam. Their incomparable compositions are
exquisitely suited to the rhythmic patterns, emotions, moods, themes and tempos
of Bharata Natyam, where the music and the dance each bring out the best of
each other, a perfect marriage made in heaven, an impeccable union of the Bhava, Raga, and Tala elements
of Bharata Natyam. The pieces that they composed are still revered as the
gemstones of the Bharata Natyam repertoire – centuries later, they still
glitter and sparkle, and evoke the feelings of ecstasy and serenity that come
with the sublime harmony of dance and music.
The complete Bharata Natyam margam, as prescribed by the
Quartet, includes the following:
Alarippu: This is
an invocatory piece, with the dancer performing a series of rhythmic exercises
to a particular talam, seeking the blessings of God, the guru, and the
audience.
Jatiswaram: A
purely rhythmic piece consisting of jathis, danced to a repeated melody of
swarams (melodic notes). There are jatiswarams
in a variety of ragams, each invoking a different mood and set of rhythmic
patterns.
Shabdam: A short
and sweet piece, the warm-up to the main piece of the recital, the varnam,
where there are short rhythmic parts, as well as a few lines to which the
dancer performs abhinaya, or emotional expressions. This is the first piece
where the entire range of a dancer’s skills is shown, albeit in small doses.
Varnam: this is
the most rigorous piece in the Bharatha Natyam repertoire, and the ultimate
test of a dancer’s ability. A Varnam weaves demanding rhythmic segments
(theermanams) with story sequences, all of which require unerring
precision, compelling facial expressions, and tremendous stamina. The Varnam
can last from half an hour to almost a full hour, and a good dancer will make
this time seem like a few magical minutes. The story line of a Varnam can range
from the plight of a devotee longing for a sight of her beloved Lord, to the
ever-popular frolics and pranks of the naughty child Krishna,
to a description of the majesty, power and beauty of a particular deity.
There is normally an intermission after the Varnam, following which is the
slower-paced, emotion-laden segment of the recital, where the dancer unfolds
the fine textures and nuances of abhinaya,
(emotions and feelings), revealed through stories of heartbreak and love, of
scolding mothers and pouting daughters, of unfaithful friends and fickle
lovers, all sung in hauntingly melodious, lyrically poetic, padams and javalis. Some of these padams and javalis are brazenly erotic and sensuous, but handled skillfully by
a good dancer, they are never vulgar, but a beautiful embodiment of life, in
all its multi-faceted glory.
The final piece in a traditional Bharata Natyam margam is
the Thillana, a fast-paced, joyous piece that is mainly rhythmic, with a
small expressive section. It jolts the audience back into toe-tapping mode,
with its variety of melodic and rhythmic patterns.
Today, many Bharata Natyam recitals carry some version of
this margam, usually a much-shortened, telescoped-into-one-hour one. Most often
jettisoned are the jatiswaram and shabdam; and where a dancer might have
performed three, or even four, padams
twenty or thirty years ago, today he or she might whittle these down to one or
two. Attention and time spans are shrinking. Ever greater numbers of dancers
need to be accommodated. Theme and concept based dances are gaining in
visibility, if not necessarily in popularity.
The story of Bharata Natyam after the fall of the devadasi
system is one of unremitting, untiring effort and devotion by a group of
pioneers, including Rukmini Devi Arundale, E. Krishna Iyer, Balasaraswati and
V. Raghavan, who did everything they could – and succeeded brilliantly in what
they set out to achieve – to ensure that this ancient tradition would not wilt
and wither away.
Of these, Rukmini Devi Arundale has left behind perhaps the
most concrete legacy of all. She came from a Brahmin family - not any Brahmin
family, but a highly respected one. Dancing was the last thing she was expected to do. Her interest in dancing was kindled by a
ballet performance she saw, by the famous Russian ballerina, Anna Pavlova. She was so enchanted that she wanted to learn
ballet, but was gently steered towards the dance of her own heritage by
Pavlova, who encouraged her to learn and revive the rich dance forms of India.
To make a very long story short, Rukmini Devi Arundale did precisely that.
Confronting many obstacles, she sought out and learned from the best dance
teachers. To remove its association with the devadasi of yore, she renamed the
dance Bharata Natyam. In 1936, she
started an institution for the teaching of dance and music, which she named
Kalakshetra, or Temple of Art (Kala means art,
and Kshetra means temple, or holy place). She employed the top musicians and dancers of her time, and adhered
strictly to tradition, while using that same tradition as a springboard to
choreograph many stunning pieces and dances for Bharata Natyam. Here evolved the Kalakshetra style of
dancing, with its emphasis on Angika, or the body form. Clean lines and crisp rhythms are stressed,
as opposed to the looser, more sinuous forms of other Bharata Natyam styles.
Other schools and styles of dancing have flourished as well,
as the old teachers, with generations of learning and knowledge flowing through
their veins, were sought after. Well-known and tremendously respected today are
the styles of Pandanallur, Vazhuvoor and Tanjore, each one with its special and
unique attributes.
Once Bharata Natyam became “respectable”, the floodgates
opened, and the scene today is heartwarming, or one that evokes despair,
depending on how one views the situation. Never before has this art form been
more popular, more vibrant. Yes, there is plenty of mediocrity and worse, but
also, shining brightly all around the world, are many dancers with tremendous
talent, intelligence, imagination, knowledge, dedication and determination.
The borders of the Bharata Natyam universe are expanding,
and the world within is one which is testing all boundaries, where tradition
and innovation, age-old issues and modern ones, the abstract and the concrete,
the sensual, the ascetic, the carnal and the spiritual, are all jostling for
attention, all parading themselves on stages around the world to audiences that
are bemused, outraged, thrilled, excited, or despairing, but never indifferent.
There are people experimenting with using the language of Bharata Natyam to explore
new themes like dowry deaths, women’s issues, poverty, AIDS, the environment, and
war; there are those who throw themes and narrative to the winds and rejoice in
the framework of Bharata Natyam to highlight the excitement and visual stimulation
of abstract dance; there are some who have chafed at the rigid outlines of
Bharata Natyam, and have incorporated elements of modern and other dance styles
to enable them to best express their ideas and ideals. Some dancers have
eschewed the whole devotional element; others vigorously oppose this viewpoint
and are uncompromising in their belief that Bharata Natyam is a spiritual
experience, not just another means to express modern life and its dilemmas.
There has been experimentation in music; there has been venturing into a
variety of different musical genres. Ancient texts and scripts have been
revived; brand new words and music have been written to express something new,
something unique, something original and utterly personal. And of course, there
are many who cherish what has been handed to them, this gem which has lived for
over two thousand years, and they pledge to safeguard it and preserve its
pristine form.
All of this means one thing: Bharata Natyam is alive and well. No, this is an understatement. It is vibrantly healthy, thriving, dynamic, at the crossroads at one of the most exciting stages of its long and gripping life story. It is a majestic, powerful river in full flow. What a journey it has had. And what a journey lies ahead of it!
(c) Kamini Dandapani


Kamini, this was a wonderful piece - so informative to the lay person (like me) who's pretty much ignorant of the basics of Bharata Natyam! Beautifully written!
Posted by: shammi | May 06, 2008 at 05:56 AM
Hey Kamini, Came across your blog while blog-hopping and just wanted to let you know that you have a very interesting blog here. Guess will come back coz there's so much more to read!:)
Posted by: Ramya | May 06, 2008 at 03:15 PM
Thanks for enlightening us on this traditional dance form...I am totally ignorant about Bharatnatyam, your piece was interesting :)
Posted by: nandita | May 08, 2008 at 12:31 AM
very interesting post...though I knew most of the details, your writing kept me spellbound..very beautiful piece
lakshmi
Posted by: backpakker | May 08, 2008 at 07:28 AM
thats a nice informative post kamini...great efforts!
Posted by: Srivalli | May 09, 2008 at 01:51 AM
As a child I learnt a little bit of Bharata Natyam and if I knew back then what I know now, I'd probably have pursued it as my life's dream/passion!
Thank you for this post. I was enlightened!
Posted by: rajk | May 09, 2008 at 03:06 AM
In this random history course I took in law School, we were asked to do some research on some cases on the Devadasi Act. I did them without even knowing the context, and cursed the teacher continuously for making us hunt for these elusive cases... Now, I understand the context!
Posted by: aandthirtyeights | May 12, 2008 at 07:54 AM
Only one phrase for this - brilliantly comprehensive. The evolution to its present form under the guidance of Rukmini Arundale is described so well. And you have mentioned the flip side cause by sheer numbers - in Chennai, this also includes the problem of being staged by sabhas, where many dancers, it is said, have to pay for the chance to dance.
Posted by: Raji | May 22, 2008 at 02:09 AM
Are you a trained dancer? Brahata Natyam and Kathak are the most graceful dances I've ever seen. :) Even the dancers..they have this glow on them that lasts a lifetime.
Posted by: Fanatika | September 24, 2008 at 11:04 AM
I found your blog via "Tales of South India". I am fascinated by the blog and your wonderful writing. I myself am a South Indian trained in Carnatic music and I absolutely love travelling! So this site is surely an amazing find for me. I am just curious...how did you get to teach Carnatic music in Croatia of all the places? Oh, your visit to Cambodia, it's just awe inspiring pics. I am sure to visit your blog very frequently and hope to visit the places you have (some how not as worried being a vegetarian travelling in remote parts of the world now that I see you have!).
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