A two-day dance festival showcased the best of Indian classical dance forms. UK Banerjee speaks to renowned artistes like Rama Vaidyanathan, Sujarta Mahapatya and Vinayak Panda
Post Indian Independence, the onus of reviving and regenrating the classical dances clearly devolved on a few pioneering souls who struggled with prevailing prejudices, resurrected the moribund practices, re-formulated the scanty dance-grammars and, above all, collected some brave votaries who would dedicate themselves to learning the near-fossilised heritage. If those pioneers were reckoned — for every genre — as the first-generation gurus, they have virtually disappeared in the natural cycle of time, replaced gradually by their second-generation disciples: to have become the new gurus. With the advent of the 21st century, the new gurus, in turn, have gathered around them the third-generation students: bright young spirits who come, by droves, to acquire, by now, the easily-available legacy.
When the recent Bharat Utsav — presented by Devdhara under Vinayak Panda — began with the Odissi recital by the students of Gajendra Panda, the band of bright faces easily contrasted the bulging figure of Panda, somewhat weary on his steps. Their collective production of Krishna Tandava was marked by a bevy of enthusiastic milk-maids and Krishna’s male companion — along with a delectable Radha — led by a serene Krishna. The latter was personified by Panda, who mentioned later, “I’ve been a disciple of the outstanding teacher Debaprasad Das, in whose house I had lived for ten long years.” The process was clearly to be seen — Guru Debaprasad’s skills were getting transmitted through the flag-bearer Panda to a new generation now.
The process was even clearer in the case of the veteran first-generation Satrtiya guru Jatin Goswami who had trained scores of disciples, including his own sons, to acquire great forms. But he need not have himself danced now, as he did, in an excruciatingly slow pace to Madhavadeva’s text. In sharp contrast, his youthful disciple Seujpriya Goswami danced brilliantly Krishna Katha and Rama Katha — describing respectively Krishna’s pranks and dalliances, and Rama’s conquest of the evil. She proved conclusively that her generation of Sattriya dancers has arrived. Rajendra Gangani, disciple of guru Kundanlal Gangani and a Kathak guru in his own rights, started with Ganesha Vandana and demonstrated the prowess of his Jaipur gharana at the end. But too much of traditional Kathak — despite its simplisitic ang-sanchalan (limb-movements), jhulan (swing) and their ilk — brings only ennui.
Rama Vaidyanthan, early disciple of Yamini Krishnamoorthy and solo Bharatanatyam danseuse of the current generation, was the brightest star of the first evening. Choosing a narrative from Srimadbhagavad, her excellent Navarasa Mohana was woven around spectators of the mythic duel between Krishna and his fierce demon-uncle Kamsa: arousing roudra (valour) among wrestlers; adbhuta among common folks; hasya among friends; bhaya among evil spirits; karunya among parents; veera in Kamsa; vibhatsa among strangers; shringara among milk-maids and shanta among liberated souls. Rama explaiined, “I’ve always been a keen reader of the Bhagavada purana and found the nine rasas (emotions) implicitly suggested there.”
The second evening was comparatively uneventful, set off with a single Manipuri solo by the senior artiste, Narmada Devi. Her Dashavatara Stotra from Jayadeva’s Gita Govinda was an undistinguished blend of abhinaya and bhangi pareng (pure dance), barring a striking Kalki incarnation. When Manipuri percussionists later took the stage, they executed a virile pung cholam (drum dance), followed by a set of martial-art manoueveres: with an acrobat specially showing his manipulative skills with a short stick — shaped as an hour-glass — and drummers providing vigorous support. The finale, with a severely blind-folded gymnast slicing a cucumber — lying on someone’s bare belly —was appropriately hair-raising.
Sujarta Mohapatra — guru Kelucharan Mohapatra’s daughter-in-law and assiduously groomed by the celebrated guru — was decidedly the best artiste of the festival. Allotted a much longer time-span than the other dancers, she fully justified it with her grace. Her Durga Stuti was evocative, depicting the mother goddess in both her benevolent and malevolent selves. Her hall-mark pure dance, pallavi — composed by guru Kelucharan, with music by the redoubtable Raghunath Panigrahi — was a magnificent dialogue between choreography and melody, rising from stoic serenity to an inspired crescendo. Her concluding ashtapadi song from Gita Govinda — Sakhi hey, Keshi- Madanamutharam… was layered with love’s throbbing pain and passion’s pangs of jealousy. Her slow pirouettes, moving her whole torso, were most appropriately statueque.