Sadharanikarana

I recently returned from Shimla's Indian Institute for Advanced Study, where I was attending a study week on Abhinavagupta. While my presentation came in the form of a two day abhinaya performance, others presented papers on rasa, on the Natyashastra and on Abhinavagupta's controversial commentaries on the same.

I returned from there, with a renewed faith in my beliefs and values regarding classical dance. A  lot of what I have been writing about was reaffirmed and reinforced by some of India's best scholars and theorists on the Natyashastra. These scholars also gave some clarity to my thoughts.

In an earlier post, I had written about my experiences while performing excerpts from the Ramayana a few months ago. I had defended my position of performing the piece in human terms, rather than in terms of gods and goddesses by saying that I had focussed on mortal emotions that underpin the divine myths. At the conference, I got some clarity on why, theoretically, choosing to portray human emotions had not been a mistake.

According to the Natyashashra, there are eight bhavas and therefore eight corresponding rasas (the ninth one i.e. shanta rasa, some of you must know, was added later by Abhinavagupta). Crudely put - the bhavas are the emotions that the performer expresses, and its corresponding rasa is what the audience is supposed to feel and experience. For example, in the Ramayana piece, the actor/dancer expresses love for Sita (this bhava is rati). The audience members cannot feel that love for Sita the way the actor does, but can experience the joy of love (this would be sringara rasa). Something like that. But of course, the actor or dancer doesn't actually become Rama. In the 9th century, Bhatta Lolatta (one of the earliest thinkers to analyse Bharata's Natyashastra) said that the actor 'becomes' Rama momentarily, but nevertheless does not forget his real nature as an actor.

So how does the actor or dancer pull the audience into the story? How does he or she make the audience feel that the story is real? My answer to that question was that the dancer or actor reminds the audience of the human emotions they have felt at different times in their lives. According to Prof. K.D. Tripathi, it is through a mechanism called Sadharanikarana. It is the generalisation of the bhava. While portraying myths/ performing abhinaya, the event or story being portrated may be very specific, distant and unrelatable, but the bhava is general and universal. It is this generalised bhava that the audience relates to, and feels.

Unknowingly, I have been using this mechanism to portray (convincingly, I hope) stories of Gods and Goddesses while being an agnostic myself. My firm belief that emotions are universally relatable allowed me to perform a 'religious' piece in a 'secular' manner. And it is this universality of emotions that drove me to analyse and perform the Ramayana piece from a mortal and emotional perspective, rather than a divine perspective. To follow up from my last piece on the matter, the way religion and secularity are interpreted in the blogpost allows for humanising divinity, and apparently, sadharanikarana allows for it as well.

The historical importance of Bharatanatyam and its name

When Bharatanatyam is learnt, many dancers eventually see themselves as carriers of an ancient tradition that has been preserved by dancers for generations and believe it to be their duty to pass it on in its pristine form to the future generation of dancers. In the realm of dance education, there is merely a mention of 'devadasis', and this mention often leads to a restricted knowledge that devadasis were temple dancers who performed many years ago. It is also widely known (its even mentioned on Wikipedia) that scholars like E. Krishna Iyer and dancers like Rukmini Devi Arundale saved the dance by teaching it to the upper classes after its reputation had fallen along with the falling reputation of the devadasis. 

In a dance class, theory is not given as much importance as practice. Moreover, theory to do with dance usually comprises of discussions on the sanskritic texts on dance and drama, regarding the philosophies behind the several sanskritic traditions surrounding dance, or attributes of an ideal dancer - the geometry and symmetry of a dancer's face and body. Some dancers are privileged to have been taught in detail about the ashtanayikas and the navarasas. The knowledge passed on, therefore, is theoretical in the sense that it is a study of some of the ancient texts that refer to dance and drama. Of course, these are important for enriching any dancer's knowledge about Bharatanatyam. But the knowledge about Bharatanatyam cannot be nearly close to wholesome if its history is not taught, if dancers are not made aware of the socio-political surroundings in which the dance has survived over the centuries.

As I entered my twenties, I found words like 'devadasi', 'sadir', 'dasi attam', 'revival', 'colonialism', 'elite', 'nationalism' and 'middle class' splattered across the pages that I religiously read. Through academic papers written by Janet O'Shea, Avanti Meduri, Chandralekha, Matthew Harp Allen, Anne-Marie Gaston and so on, I understood better, the turbulent side to the history of Bharatanatyam that hadn't been taught to me as an integral part of my dance education. I understood more deeply, the changes that the dance form underwent in content and style, and the implications of caste and class on Bharatanatyam. Moreover, I read that the name itself was a revivalist ploy to re-invent the dance to suit a post-colonial, nationalist middle-class.

My master's thesis was a result of all that reading and research. In many ways, my thesis became a starting point to publicly and academically articulate my questions and concerns about dance and the systems in place within it. And in a wider sense, it helped to deepen my understanding about classical forms of all kinds in India.

Recently, I was reading an article by P. Ragaviah Charry (Bharatanatyam: A Reader, Oxford University Press, 2010). His article about the devadasis was written in 1806. Curiously, I found the term 'Bharata Nateya' in it. This shook my recently consolidated belief that 'Sadir' was renamed Bharatanatyam during the early 1900s in order to transform the devadasi dance form into a nationalist dance for the middle classes to be able to take pride in. While most of my research did not contradict his article - the other issues I'd highlighted regarding caste, class, the guru-shishya parampara, and the conflict that I believed arose from the spatial shift from temple to theatre - were still valid. But this one error in my thesis regarding the name was bothersome.

I have not yet been able to resolve this.

There are arguably plausible stories about the name 'Bharatanatyam' originating from bhava (Bha), raga (ra), and talam (ta), but as far as I know, only speculation backs this theory. Other scholars have argued that the dance form was named after 'Bharatamuni', the author of the Natyashashtra, although Richard Schrechner has implied that Bharatamuni himself was myth, 'most likely a pseudonym for a collective oral tradition' (Schrechner, Richard. Rasaaesthetics. The Drama Review, 1988, Vol. 45, No.3) while others have questioned why, despite the existence of several other dance forms of equal richness and value, only this form was bestowed the honour of being named after the author of the Natyashashtra. These are pertinent enough points to question the foundations of these speculations and even fuels the theory about the creation of a 'national dance' in post-colonial India. Yet, Charry's article seems to prove that Bharatanatyam was not a name invented in the post-colonial nationalist era.

So, when did the name change? Arguably this is not a very important query, but I think it is an important question to ask precisely because of the proven monumental role that the socio-political atmosphere has played in changing the style, form and content of the dance form. Given that, it might be worth exploring this question. There must be a distinctive and illuminating reason for why the name was changed when it was. Under what circumstances it was changed, and by whom, will certainly shed light on the reasons for the change in name, and its implications on the dance form itself. I hope to find the answer(s) to this question, because I really believe that it will help in the understanding of Bharatanatyam's past, and therefore its present and future.

More or Less

Amongst the many dilemmas an artist faces today, is yet another one - regarding how many performances to accept in a month. My personal predicament came when I was suddenly bombarded with performances, and found myself hesitating. Was I mad to even consider turning down a performance within a week? Just because I had another one coming up that I had committed to a few months ago? But then again, I was thinking about this next performance, and how the rehearsals for the performance I eventually turned down would eat into rehearsal time for the next one. Luckily that performance didn't work out for the organisers as well. So I didn't have to worry. 

Worry? I know some would say that is being arrogant. Worry about too many performances? Who did I think I was? How could I even dare to enter the league where I had too many performances to handle?

But I don't think I really care about all that. I want to perform, as often as I can. Often enough to stay afloat. BUT not so often that I'm doing a lot of performances badly. I'd rather do fewer performances well.

It is a complex issue, really. Because less performances means less income, less livelihood, less exposure. But is income all there is to performing? Is a lot of bad exposure better than a little good exposure?

I've had my experiences with that, to be honest. Performing prematurely, without enough training - I did that once with Kalaripayattu, and regret it. I will only perform it ever again once I've trained further, and deeper, in it. That's really ok for me. I perform it less, but I'll understand it better. So that when I do perform it again, I won't be injured, I won't feel like I did it in a rush, or that I did it merely for exposure, experience and to sustain a livelihood. Don't get me wrong. These things are important in today's world. Enough of my writing has testified to this fact. But I don't think I ever want to do it at the cost of quality and hard work.

I think the point I'm trying to highlight here, the conclusion that I have come to, is that sometimes less is more, because you gain more from less performances if you spend that non-performance time working hard towards the fewer times you do get to perform.

Essentially..perhaps less is more, because sometimes you gain more from less than you do from more.

The Interdependent Artists of India

'Pratyayin' is a community that I'm quite excited about. I thought up this little community in 2010 after attending a conference on global interdependence in Berlin that talked about social, political, economic and cultural interdependence between the nations of the world. I began to think about how wonderful it would be to have an interdependent community of dancers. But it soon became clear to me that the community couldn't and shouldn't exclude other disciplines within art. The whole idea of this community, in my mind, was about inclusion. The intention was to build a strong collaborative community of artists who are excited by the idea of creating new and different works of art through the exchange of ideas and through collaborations, and who are keen on breaking boundaries, demolishing dichotomies and standing up to those who resist change and progress in the arts. With some enthusiasm and encouragement from fellow artists and friends, my interdependent community is becoming a reality. 

The community started out very small but it is growing. So far on board are - 

Abantee Dutta, Dancer/Researcher, Gati, New Delhi
Abhik B, Founder, 'Dear Imagination', Bombay

Abhishek Singh, Musician, Ranchi

Ananth Menon, Musician (Galeej Gurus/Parachute XVI), Bangalore

Anirudh Voleti, Artist Manager/Booking Agent/Tour Manager, New Delhi

Anupam Roy, Music Production (Grey Studios), New Delhi

Anusha Lall, Dancer/Founder, Gati Forum Trust, New Delhi

Aranyani Bhargav, Dancer (Bharatanatyam/Contemporary), New Delhi/Bangalore

Archana Kathpalia, Dhindora (PR Agency), Bangalore

Ashwini Bhat, Potter/Sculptor, Pondicherry

Avinash Subramaniam, Writer, Madras

Bina Shah, Architect, Bombay

Bertha Bermudez, Dancer (Contemporary), Amsterdam

Binoy Joseph, Creative Director, Radio City, Bangalore

Dhritiman Deb Pillai, Designer (Ek Saat Studio), New Delhi

Diya Sen, Dancer (Odissi), New Delhi

Ganesh Krishnaswamy, Musician (Parachute XVI/ Bevar Sea), Bangalore

Gurudarshan Somayaji, Drummer, Live Music Consultant, Bangalore

Hari Adivarekar, Photographer, Bangalore

Himani Khurana, Dancer/Choreographer, New Delhi
Jayaprakash Satyamurthy, Writer/ Musician (Bevar Sea), Bangalore

Jayashree Singh, Musician (Skinny Alley/PINKNOISE), Calcutta

Karthik Basker, Musician (The Bicycle Days), Bangalore

Mandakini Menon, Filmmaker/Illustrator, New Delhi/Bombay

Manish Pole, Director, Total Yoga, Pune

Manola Gayatri Kumaraswamy, Dancer (Contemporary/Odissi), Bangalore

Matthew Harris, Musician (Galeej Gurus), Bangalore

Mehneer Sudan, Dancer (Contemporary), Bombay/New Delhi

Mili Nair, Singer, Madras

Namrta Dhar, Theatre Actor/Playwright/Director, Bangalore

Nidhi Mariam Jacob, Artist/Painter/Graphic designer, Bangalore

Parikshit Rao, Photographer, Bombay

Pratik Prabhakar, Artist (Contemporary Mithila Art), Madhubani

Radha Pandey, Designer and Book Binder, New Delhi

Ranjana Dave, Dancer (Odissi), Bombay

Samira Gupta, Desginer Ek Saat Studio), New Delhi

Sandeep Rajan, Writer/Film maker, Madras
Sandeep Srivastav, Indus Live Arts/Musician (Green Ragas), New Delhi
Soraya Franco, Artistic Dancer/ Dance Therapist, New Delhi

Srikanth Panaman, Musician (Bevar Sea), Bangalore

Sujith Shanker, Theatre Actor, National School of Drama, New Delhi

Sunil Baindur, Graphic Designer/Painter, Bangalore

Tarit Pal, Musician, New Delhi

Thermal and a Quarter (Band), Bangalore

Viven Batavia, Performing Arts Photographer, Bangalore

Yashaswini Raghunathan, Film maker, Bangalore

Yasmin Sethi, Product Designer, New Delhi

I just wanted to splash out this bit of information onto my blog in case anyone wants to be involved in 'Pratyayin' either as a participant in collaborations, or by supporting our projects through funding. I can say more and more safely each day, that it'll be an exciting venture! :)

'Pratyayin' is also on facebook. Click here for the link

Get Involved!

The Good,the Bad and the Ugly

Post-script: I know that by writing this post, I run the risk of offending some people, or certainly sending them into a defensive state. Just to be clear, I'm not saying all the dance that's going around is bad. I'm just saying there's enough bad dance going around for me to throw these questions out into the void. So here goes.

I'm sure I'm not alone when I walk out of a dance performance feeling dejected, depressed and demoralized. There is too much mediocrity around! At least that's what I feel. I see flaky fluttering around the stage being applauded much too often. Where's the strength and depth that I thought was indispensable to dance? But then again, this dancing that I call 'jelly dancing' (its like watching flabby jelly blobbing around on stage) is everywhere. There must be a reason for why its around. I wondered whether it is my fault - whether I am prejudiced about this jelly dance. Or whether the standards for measuring good dance have simply changed. 

I just want to throw a few questions out, in the hope that I will have at least highlighted these questions in case they have slipped to the back of our minds, in case there's a chance we'll reflect on these questions and think about what the possible answers are - How do we evaluate good and bad dance? Is it the appearance of the dancer? Could it be the 'fair and lovely' syndrome? Or how fat or thin he or she is? How big her eyes are, or how crisp his smile is? Or is it how well-connected he or she is? Is it how agile he or she is? Do bends and stretches matter anymore? Do we really see leaps in dance anymore? Is abhinaya too literal now-a-days? Do we care how the dancer holds his or her mudras or sits in aramandi/mandala position? 

How are we judging dance?

Choreograph me (but my way)

I recently signed up for a part-time job. I was to choreograph something for them, and the theme they had chosen was 'Unity in Diversity' in India. Yes, done to death, I agree. But I agreed to do it because I could think of several ways to do it differently and frankly, I could have used the money. But as time went on, I got more and more uncomfortable with the way things were shaping up. 

The first obstacle lay in the fact that the organisers (them) and the choreographer (me) had very different conceptions of unity in diversity. But given that they had hired me for their show, I went along with their conception of it, but only on the condition that we did not do any 'filmy' stuff. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but most importantly because I'm not trained in it, and am not qualified to teach it.

After numerous phone calls late in the night to tell me the same things, and after telling me my choreography was either too slow, or unsuited to the kind of audience they were expecting, I finally lost patience. When they asked me to produce all the music for their entire performance (which included a 'fashion show'), turned a lot of it down for being too classical/too slow (what's the big deal with speed?!), and said they expected me to be on call from 10am to 4pm everyday, I told them it wouldn't be possible. We parted ways.

I later thought about why I felt so liberated, and was so happy to let go of a substantial sum of money (which I could have used to make ends meet this month) over a few extra hours than I'd imagined. It wasn't the few hours of extra work, or the 'out of office hours' phone calls. It was the fact that I'd been hired more as a coordinator than a choreographer. They wanted me around to make sure everything fell in place, in the manner in which they wanted. My choreographic freedom was completely curtailed. My aesthetic sensibility was held in utter disregard. Under such conditions, I found it impossible to work. A completely different experience to what I'd had at Sardar Patel Vidyalaya, where the teachers trusted me, and the amount of time I needed to work with the kids. I had complete freedom to work, and the only interference came in a positive form - discussions, suggestions and not narrow-minded ultimatums. What's the point of hiring an outsider if you're not even open to their suggestions?

When choreographers are hired, I hope they are hired for their choreographic skills and their aesthetic sensibilities, not for their coordination/organisational skills, or the amount of time they spend on the work. The process should be rewarding for both the teacher and the students. And the end result should be good. How the choreographer ensures that the work is good should really be left up to the choreographer.

A Must Watch - Aronofsky's 'Black Swan'

I was waiting for the day someone would make a film about the darker side of the dance world. A side that the audience rarely gets to see. Yes, this is an extreme example, but its a disturbing and true glimpse, none the less, into the dark side of dance. With outstanding performances by Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis and Vincent Cassel, its worth a watch. For dancers, yes. But also everyone else.