Aditi Mangaldas talks to Utpal K Banerjee about introductions to Kathak in the last 50 years. In terms of content, new literature has been added to the traditional poetry and bandishes
India’s classical dances owe their near genesis only to a few decades ago. Bharatanatyam was resurrected from sadir nautch and dasiattam in the early 1930s and got its name only in 1947. Kathakali — and its feminine sequel Mohiniyattam — were spruced up in the 1920s and almost brought back from oblivion. Odissi was the handiwork of a conclave of gurus in the late 1950s to be given “a name and a habitation.” Kuchipudi came from an obscure village around the same time from the dancing Brahmins. Manipuri is probably a little older being carried in secluded temples as raas leela, before being noticed and brought into the Indian mainland. The same consideration applies to Sattriya being confined to monasteries and looked at de novo only by the turn of the 20th century. To complete the records, temple dance of Vilasininatyam; three Chhau dances: the masked varieties of Seraikela and Purulia and sans mask in Mayurbhanj; and the re-constructed Gaudiya dance are still striving to get their classical appellation.
Only Kathak can claim a little longer span of attention from the cognoscente: from the mid-19th century in the royal courts and noble households, with a little different, earlier existence for story-telling by kathakar (or kathik). But it assumed its classical format and definitive structure mainly in lucknow durbars and its gharanas spread to Jaipur, Raipur and Banaras, acquiring a decisive influence on the celluloid world of Mumbai. But the national capital had exerted an impact on its continuing education — so essential to keep the erstwhile gurukul (teacher-disciple) system alive. First, Sangeet Bharati, and later Sriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra and its official offshoot Kathak Kendra have played a seminal role in promoting and propagating the Kathak ethos.
Established in 1964, Kathak Kendra recently celebrated its golden jubilee with many scintillating performances: by its own students, its repertory company and several invited artistes.
For the valedictory ceremony, it opened with its percussion students producing ensemble music: first with tabaliyas and then with assorted instruments. Explaining the idea behind pratha-pravaha, their instructor Nirmal Mandal said, “As food is to life, so is rhythm to music — essential for existence.
Since ancient times, multiple percussion instruments have proved this point. In the context of Kathak, we have first built on pratha by presenting a pantheon of five tablas played in solo mode. Then we established pravah by creatively introducing other drums like jambi, dholak and pakhawaj in the ensemble.”
Under Krishan Mohan Mishra, the Kendra students then came up with brilliantly-lit and enacted ang prasang: with differently illumined zones creating a collage of bodies, faces and limbs. Said Mishra, “Human life is the most astonishing creation of nature. How a new life begins with a heart beat and how, bit by bit, every organ takes shape to create the corporeal form is a perpetual wonder to me! I have tried to choreograph this marvel.”
The best part of the programme was Immersed, the three-part solo by Aditi Mangaldas.
Adopting the literary text from Bharatehndu Harishchandra, she mirrored many images of Krishna in a variegated chiaroscuro: with his myriad names giving rise to visions of the pastoral god. Images floated by: of the fast-flowing river, the unquenchable flame, the killer of nagas and demons. The next lyric saw Krishna everywhere: much beyond any belief or a concept: as life itself.
The concluding part — Aowe Piranawa Dori laago Pyare Ke Garwa — visualised: if Krishna was life, he was death, too. The musical composition by Shubha Mudgal and Anees Pradhan was superb.
Interview with Aditi Mangaldas:
Has Kathak changed over these 50 years since the Kendra came upIJ
As they say, change is the only constant in life. like our own psyche, heart and soul, the art form is also ever rejuvenating, without any dearth of creativity!
Speaking specifically, what has been the change in its formIJ
My gurus, Kumudini lakhia and Pandit Birju Maharaj ‘cleaned’ the form, metaphorically speaking. It used to be more two-dimensional, like a dupatta.
They gave it a three-dimensional physical appearance, in the full sense of the term!
How about contentIJ
There has been a sea-change. A lot of new literature has been added to the traditional poetry and bandishes. A good deal of abstraction has come to play its role in the Kathak text.
Has presentation changed as wellIJ
Presentation techniques have perhaps changed the most. It used to be a story-telling in the temple, where the lit-up torches, the smell of camphor, the overawing presence of the deity created their own ambience and aesthetics. Then came the courts; with their marbled milieu, flower-gardens and the assembled grandeur, with their associated aesthetics.
Now the stage has come, where neither the aesthetics of temple nor that of the court can fit in!
You have to create your own dance-aesthetics and cannot put up a
Taj Mahal made of paper-decorations!
How about costumeIJ
It is again a matter of aesthetics. You have to keep in mind the context, historical relevance, the physicality. The texture, colours, light-reflections — where some colours change their appearance in certain lights — will all have to be kept in view.
And lastly, the music…
Yes, we have gone much beyond thumris and taranas. I have a special notion about the role of beauty of instruments, which is shared by Shubha.
Earlier, it used to be jumbled music, where flute and sarangi would play together, creating a mixed music.
Why not use flute and sarangi and percussion independent of each other and let them create own musical resonanceIJ It is far more satisfying aesthetically!