rapt attention

On Saturday I ventured to an Indian classical dance showcase. In the clipping where I read about the event, it said, “across the street from Sion Hospital”, it didn’t say, “across five lanes of high speed traffic in both directions.” While crossing the expressway I was cursing k for not coming with me to hold my hand through the ordeal. Luckily people are always around, so I waited for a cluster of people to cross and I scurried behind them. At the divider I moved my way into the middle of the cluster and it pushed me along and spat me out safely on the other side.

I was also annoyed with myself for being dressed as a standout American in this clearly middle class Indian area. I had tried on a new salwar kameez that I decided to keep for Sunday to where to a lunch at an aunty’s house. I was very aware of people knowing by looking at me that I was from Somewhere, Else. The performance was in Tamil Sangam Auditorium. Tamilians are south Indian folk, so I felt immediately comfortable when I walked in. I still got Somewhere, Else looks but they were friendly. A couple of people seemed to say hello because they weren’t sure if they knew me or not. I felt happy to have a clear sense of what people around me were saying since the dialect we speak borrows heavily from Tamil- much more clear than when I hear Hindi.

The performance was excellent. The only time I experience what it means to give someone ‘rapt attention’ is when I am watching dance. The styles represented were Kathak- a north Indian origin of dance, Manipuri temple dancing (Manipur is a state), Odissi, bharatanrityam (a modern form based on bharatanatyam but set to Hindustani music instead of Karnatak music), bharatanatyam, mohiniattam (from state of Kerala), and nrityaganga. The mistress of ceremony, a guru of bharatanrityam, explained the connection between the developments of each art form. Each type of dancer performed a piece having to do with union of Shiva and Parvati to demonstrate how each regional dance form expresses different facets of the same story. The woman who organized the event said something poignant about how this form of storytelling uses three modes of language- song/music, literature, and the technical language of dance. She created the form of bharatnatyam to Hindustani music so the story would not be lost, so that the audience could follow the dancer’s story through the story told in the song. She was born and raised in Maharashtra and said she fell in love with bharatanatyam at a young age. She has been dancing for 30 years.

All of the women who performed are master in their fields. Many of them travel internationally and have received many honors for their work and contribution to dance and culture. The Manipuri dancer is the youngest of the four Jhaveri sisters and received a Padma Shri for her work. These sisters trained together and over the course of their careers they have been dancing for fifty years.

All of the women moved with great agility and grace. Some were in their late 60’s. One minute she stamped out an intricate series of rhythm, the next moment a foot is caught above her head and in a second the foot dropped and she spun to end on not two feet but one with her center of gravity displaced to the left and her hips to the right and her arm relaxed in a gesture to indicate a lotus in her palm. I admire passion. Moreover, I admire when people have the courage to pursue their passion.