Bharatanatyam danseuse Deepa Raghavan’s recent performance was inspired by the 18th century royal dancers of the Thanjavur court. Utpal K Banerjee reports
One of the most endearing facades of the cultural heritage from the south of the Vindhyas is a very large effort and veneration devoted to its all-round recognition, retention and retrieval: even by the younger generation. On one side, there is detailed ethnographic evidence for the name, habitat and endowment of land for each of the few hundred devdasis (God’s maidens) brought in for ritual dance on site at the 10th-century Brihadeeswarar temple. On the other side, Saint Annamacharya’s 16th-century musical legacy — thought lost earlier and now located from among the locked vaults of the temple — is lovingly retraced and musically rendered afresh in accordance with the prevailing canons by everyone. If Purandara Dasa is reckoned as sangeet Pitamaha (musical forefather) belonging to the 17th century, his kritis (set compositions, but nowhere notated in the Western sense) are sung and played with the utmost authenticity by scores of singers and instrumentalists. The extraordinarily gifted quartet of royal dancers of the 18th century Thanjavur court created and composed a classical corpus that are still delineated by one and all including the youth, precisely as per their crafted choreography.
The same feeling of respectful regard and responsibility for the past legacy was again evinced at the recent IIC performance by the Bangaluru-based Bharatanatyam danseuse Deepa Raghavan: in choosing her oeuvre for the evening. After an overture in Pushpanjali in raga Tilang — that established her chiselled and clear-cut pandanallur body lines — she launched her major item, varnam: Sahajakshi Vibhuti… A pristine composition in raga Kambdoji by the Thanjavur quartet around a nayika (heroine) soliciting lord Shiva of Brihadeeswarar in bhakti shringara (devotional amour), it was marked by the old-worldly charm of the earliest-known Bharatanatyam for which Rukmini Devi Arundale’s repertoire was justly famous in her Kalakshetra. With Deepa’s energetic movements and gestures, one only wished she had enlivened the latter with some satvika abhinaya (facial expressions) from Kathakali, a la Arundale.
Sure enough, a Purandara Dasa kriti — Jagata Uddharana — in Hindustani raga Kaafi followed with mother Yashoda largely preoccupied with child Krishna’s pranks. Singing and dancing was of a uniformly high order. Then came a light-hearted javali, the love-song describing a khandita (querulous) nayika fallen out with her fleet-footed hero dallying with others. An ashtapadi from the 12th-century Gita Govida came next with Radha in palpable agony, witnessing Krishna in a medley of love-games. The original Sanskrit classic has a text describing coy maidens dispalying many erotic postures and Deepa had a field-day in her ekaharya abhinaya, donning different roles in the same costume. The finale, a tillana in rarely-heard raga Gambira Vani, was a visual delight.
Since Deepa was originally a Delhi product (a bio-chemist by upbringing) and now settled in Bangaluru, it was worthwhile to know from her the Bharatanatyam scenario in her adopted city. Says she, “I’ve been trained by guru Kanaka Srnivasan in the Capital and now dancing for over five years in Bangaluru. Unlike Chennai where the sabhas dominate in organising the dance and music scene, in Bangaluru the music schools take the lead. There are reputable bodies like Nritya Nrutya and Attakalari who are good organisers: amidst the prevailing enthusiasm for dance. The contemporary dance is also quite strong in this city, with good work being done by Madhu Nataraj and others.”
One must mention that, like Deepa herself, her musical support formed a youthful team: with all females on this side of 40 and the males barely crossing that age-mark.