Latest news with #Bharatanatyam
The Hindu
a day ago
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
Preethi Athreya's ‘Rubber Girl' is a tribute to the cabaret
Movement is any dance's motor. But when it comes to cabaret, a theatrical form that also features music, song, recitation or drama, a dash of oomph is also a requisite. This weekend at the Black Box, a unique black-chair multi-functional space that seats around 165, G5A presents plenty of all that makes cabaret memorable in Rubber Girl by Preethi Athreya. G5A produces and co-creates interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary work often seen as experimental, and Preethi has been part of its In Residence programme, a production series that creates space for practitioners to explore their craft and expression and refine their practice. The work, which is grounded in traditional and contemporary performance methods, is then hosted over a period. Preethi is a contemporary dancer based in Chennai who also trained in Bharatanatyam. After a post-graduate degree in Dance Studies from the Laban Dance Centre, London, she uses dance as an agent of change, constantly trying to free it from the strictures of more traditional dance practices. It is this blue-print that Preethi employs in Rubber Girl, a 57-minute performance where she looks at cabaret through different angles. 'Rubber Girl was the name given to Cuckoo Moray, an Anglo-Indian actress and cabaret dancer, who peppered many Hindi films of the 1940s and 1950s with her graceful moves,' says Pravin Kannanur, a Chennai-based multidisciplinary artiste overseeing the dramaturgy and technical direction of the performance. 'But Cuckoo Moray is not the subject itself. The pretext is the idea of the cabaret. Preethi will explore this idea, what it was in pre-war Europe, Edith Piaf's torch ballads (laments on unrequited love) and how the German playwright Bertolt Brecht drew from the cabaret, among others. Cabaret allowed for a certain challenging of the status quo, the governing aesthetic of the time. It also challenged the political. The work also references the cabaret sequences in Indian films. Cuckoo's moniker of the 'rubber girl' looks at erasure on the one hand, and the polyvalence of this person on the other,' says Pravin. Rubber Girl has the structure of a travelogue, but it is not a history lesson or a linear production. 'It juxtaposes the dance bars that were taken to court in India and how the cabaret has morphed into the discotheque space and other legitimate spaces. The idea is introduced through well-known songs such as 'Mera naam chin chin chu',' adds Pravin. In the performance, Preethi as a contemporary dancer-choreographer references identity and rebellion and how folk forms were incorporated and hyper-sexualised when they were translated for screen. Music for the performance is by Chennai-based composer and bass guitarist Paul Jacob who has spent a lifetime empowering folk artistes. 'He has reconstructed certain iconic songs,' says Pravin. 'The tone of Rubber Girl is quite enjoyable. The choice of costumes by Preethi ranges from a sequined red dress, to a plastic sheet. Lighting design is by Gurleen Judge.' Rubber Girl came out of research undertaken at the Centre National de la Danse, Pantin and Cite des Artes, Paris in 2022 and was developed with assistance from the Alliance Francaise of Madras. 'A new production, it also references the Supreme Court judgment on dance bars in India and characters from film and culture. It's a fun piece, especially for women,' says Pravin. Tickets are priced at ₹750 for performances at 5pm and 7.30pm at G5A Warehouse G-5/A, Laxmi Mills Estate, Shakti Mills Lane, Mahalaxmi West, Worli, Mumbai on May 31 and June 1. Look up for details
Scroll.in
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Scroll.in
Long shunned as too explicit, an Indian music genre is rising from the margins
Lovelorn maidens, heartless dandies and coquettes, envy, betrayal, languor and heaving passion, all amidst a profusion of moonlight and jasmine. This is the dramatic, and rather medieval, universe of padams and javalis – intensely amorous love verses set in the Carnatic mode and a legacy of the devadasi music and dance traditions of the south. Mostly in Telugu, and written between the early 19th and early 20th century, the song texts of the javalis and padams are clearly an anachronism in our times – for the nayika is almost always long-suffering and the nayaka is invariably heartless. But these are also themes as old as the hills, of yearning, waiting and wanting, and the music remains eternally beautiful. Largely shunned for decades on dance and music platforms for their explicit content and social history, some of these songs were brought alive on May 18 by Bharatanatyam dancer Leela Samson accompanied by Carnatic vocalist Savita Narasimhan in Bengaluru. Ee Mohamu (this desire), as the event produced by Kishima Arts Foundation was aptly titled, showcased six songs of the genre. 'This search and happy discovery of rarer padams and javalis has been on for many years [for me],' said Samson, who embodied the callow young nayikas with moving ease and subtlety. Though padams and javalis are often spoken of together as one, they do have subtle variations. Padams tend to be slower and more reflective with more devotional underpinnings. Javalis, on the other hand, are more lively and lilting and their lyrics could border on the risque. The dramatis personae in both narratives are one or all of these three – the nayika, nayaka, and sakhi, that critical go-between and sounding board. Play Padams and javalis are set to specific ragas embellished with a lot of emotive minutiae to extract a lot of expressive rendition in both singing and dance. The one name that all musicians take with reverence for her artistry in rendering this music is T Brinda, a member of a hereditary artist clan that combined the best of the dance and music worlds. Her grandmother was the great Veena Dhanammal and she was a cousin of the legendary Balasaraswati. That the padam and javali receded to the margins in Bharatanatyam is a commentary on many things, including our history and politics. But what makes it creatively challenging, said Samson in a post-performance discussion, is the effort it takes to slow down to be in step with the stillness and pauses in the music. 'As a young dancer, a lot of our time goes into the varnam, keertanam, thillana – the nritya [footwork] takes up so much of our heart and soul,' she said. 'You are young and full of vigour when that is so challenging, all that kida-thaka-thom, and you want to stretch longer and jump higher. And so you shy away from this, speaking from the heart. Then, suddenly after 10 years of everybody appreciating your nritya, you ask yourself: are we using or misusing them [padams and javalis] only as fillers? What happened to these [songs]?' The challenge is equally hard for the vocalist. As Savita points out, the genre, especially padams, require tremendous breath control, malleability of voice, and the ability to hold the intensity of music without being aggressive. 'This is an inward-looking music and it does not allow you to gallop and it takes years to practise,' she said. 'In other forms, the sahityam [text] is set to a fixed meter and but in padams, everything is offbeat and you have to internalise where the phrases fall and how to pace the talam, which are themselves often rare ones.' The musicality of padams and javalis is singularly exquisite and, when they are danced to, they make for a heady and sensuous shadow play of the visual and the aural. Shifting mores Samson remembers, as a child, entering the world of padams at her alma mater, Kalakshetra. 'My very first padam was Kshetrayya's Bala vinave, very slow, beautiful, descriptive, such beauty of musicality and dance,' she told the audience at Sabha, a small performance space in southern Bengaluru. 'But to hold Tisra Triputa [taal], the gaps and space at that age was a struggle. But in the early years, you are taught a kai [hand, or set movements] and you did. It is only as you grow older that you start understanding. In fact, you are better able to play a younger nayika as a more mature dancer.' ''i' She remembers watching the great Mylapore Gowriamma in a class at Kalakshetra. She was frail and aged, one of the legends of the long-gone devadasi era. 'She would sit in our class, like a little bundle, and she had a pronounced squint, but if you ask her 'Gowri patti, show us this', her whole face would come to life and those eyes would do very beautiful [things] and before you could gather it, it was gone. It was as if some energy came from within her, small nuances.' With shifting views on gender and sexuality, javalis and padams, especially performed as dance, have had to deal with a lot more contentious issues. Who is all that voluptuousness intended for? Is it spiritual or carnal? Why in an age when women's agency is being celebrated should they eternally wait for a rogue lover? At the discussion that followed the dance, some of these questions were raised. But, at this point it might help to step back in time, more precisely two centuries ago, to when the genre grew. Padams predate javalis, and the names most commonly associated with them are two Telugu bhakti composers, Annamacharya and Kshetrayya. In a sense, they enjoy a firmer reputation for classicism than the sprightly javalis that teeter precariously into the 'light' music field. The origins of the javali and its meaning remain shrouded in mystery, say scholars. In his essay for the music journal Sruti titled Javalis: Jewels of the Dance Repertoire, musicologist Arudra says they were 'born in Travancore' in the early 19th-century court of Swati Thirunal, 'brought up in Mysore' and 'attained their fullness in Madras' before travelling elsewhere in the south. Others believe that its first home was the Mysore court. The meaning of the name javali itself is contested, says Arudra: interpretations include 'lewd song' in Kannada per an 1894 Kannada-English dictionary, 'half a song' or javadam in some other works on musicology, and javada in Telugu, meaning a colt of filly to indicate the playful nature of the style. One colonial writer disapprovingly spoke of javalis as 'songs of indelicate nature'. In his essay Salon to Cinema: The Distinctly Modern Life of the Telugu Javali, dance scholar Davesh Soneji points to the different 'fields of production' that separate the two forms: padams were the domain of saint composers working in centres of devotion like Tirupati, while 'javali composers (javalikartas) worked in the civic heart of the colonial city employed as Taluk clerks or post office workers'. The javali's journey through the modern times has been dynamic, the scholar points out, chronicling its transition: it crept into popular Parsi theatre-inspired Tamil dramas of the late 19th and early 20th century; lent itself to linguistic experiment as in the quirky My dear, come, varuvai i vela (come now, my dear) in a mishmash of Tamil, Telugu, Kannada and English; and, once the devadasis were erased from our culturescape, made it to the movies such as in the song Amtalone Telavare from the Telugu film Muddu Bidda (1956). Play It was in the salons of the sought-after courtesans of Madras Presidency patronised by elite men that the javali peaked as a creative form in the early 20th century. Among those men was the superb composer and Dhanammal's patron, Dharmapuri Subbaraya Iyer, a clerk in the taluk office. The stories of their abiding relationship are legend – it is said that the outstanding javali Smara sundarāṅguni was composed by him for her as a gift when she was in dire straits. Performed by Samson at Sabha, it speaks of a rather uniquely progressive beau – considerate and supportive of the nayika's many talents. Once the devadasi tradition vanished under the combined onslaught of social outrage and legislation, javalis and padams became more or less outliers in the dance and song repertoire. In the following, more squeamish decades, the popular narrative was that the heavily sensuous content is to be read not as carnal love but as the soul's yearning to attain a higher plane. It is quite common for the nayaka in the song to be revealed to be a deity. Samson recalls the somewhat fraught differences between gurus and scholars on the interpretation of loaded words, and the struggle to pin down the direct meanings. Should it be 'come, sit by my side' or 'come, sit here on my bed'? But increasingly younger artists are not shying away from their literal meaning. Among them is vocalist Aishwarya Vidya Raghunath, whose guru was Vegavahini Vijayaraghavan, T Brinda's daughter and legatee of her powerful felicity with padams and javalis. 'We hear padams and javalis so rarely in concerts. But the role of sringara in them, is it something to shy [away] from? It is an important emotion, a transient one and it seeks representation [in the arts] in some way. The argument is that they are tough to render but we persevere with so many tough things in music, why not this?' There is another question that exercises a lot of young dancers and scholars. In this age of gender equity, what is the relevance of this art form? As dancer Lakshmi Gopalaswamy pointed out at the end of the event, young students want to know: 'Why should I dress up and wait for a guy? I dress for myself.' Samson's view on this falls uniquely between the conventional and the contemporary. 'These are metaphors, not necessarily about man or woman, though they can be,' she said. 'It is about the desire that lies at the root of everything in life, an aspiration, something we constantly want to achieve outside of ourselves. Dancers who say 'Oh, I am only into the abstract', then go and show angst, pain. But that too ultimately is this.'
Time of India
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Time of India
Chetna honoured with ‘Nritya Kala Bhushan Bal Puraskar 2025'
Nagpur: Bharatanatyam dancer Chetna V, was bestowed with the 'Nritya Kala Bhushan Bal Puraskar' by the Cultural Foundation of India recently. Chetna is Class 10 student of Centre Point School, Amravati Road Bypass. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now The elite honour is awarded to just 17 finalists from a competitive pool of over 350 nominations across the country. The award, which includes a framed certificate and gold medal, is a testament to her refined technique, expressive artistry, and unwavering commitment to Bharatanatyam. She is disciple of Guru Smt Ratnam J Nair and Dr Pooja Hirwade. Further cementing her place in the world of dance, Chetna also clinched first prize at two esteemed platforms — Akhil Natrajam and Shri Hari Niketan also won third position in Akhil Bharatiya Sanskrutik Sangh, Pune, earning well-deserved certificates and trophies. CPS-AB principal Perveen Cassad, vice-principal Bhakti Bobde congratulated Chetna. Ratnam Nair, and Dr Pooja Hirwade too expressed their joy and pride in her achievement.
Mint
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Mint
Why it's important to give the kids a glimpse of your younger self
Gift this article I was visiting my daughter's school for a parent-teacher meeting, when I caught a glimpse of students practising adavus or fundamental Bharatanatyam steps, in one of the classrooms as I was climbing up a flight of stairs. It brought back memories of that unfettered joy of learning the classical form as a child, and practising the intricacies of Varnam—a composition combining nritya (dance) with abhinaya (expression)—with my classmates. I was visiting my daughter's school for a parent-teacher meeting, when I caught a glimpse of students practising adavus or fundamental Bharatanatyam steps, in one of the classrooms as I was climbing up a flight of stairs. It brought back memories of that unfettered joy of learning the classical form as a child, and practising the intricacies of Varnam—a composition combining nritya (dance) with abhinaya (expression)—with my classmates. 'Did you know I was the youngest in my batch to have the arangetram (a performance that marks the completion of formal training in Bharatanatyam)?" I remarked to my daughter. 'Really? You?" she blurted out in disbelief, as she watched me huffing and puffing up four flights of stairs—I had even considered requesting the teacher to meet me halfway, that's how out of breath I was. That's when I realised there were parts of me that I hadn't introduced my daughter to. Our single lifetime is made up of so many selves—avatars, if you may—some of which overlap with our current state of being, and some that we have bid adieu to keep up with the pressures of adulting. And as parents, we are so firmly ensconced within the role of caregivers that we forget the many layers that make up the mosaic of our personalities. Usually every spare minute in our lives is centred around furthering our children's interests. This holiday, why not reclaim some joy that was once associated with an activity or a hobby, and share that with our kids? The idea is not to take time away from them, but include them in something that was an integral part of our past. It could be a great way to bond, serve to inspire them or just offer the kids yet another chance to guffaw at us as we hobble back to a hobby. Also read: This summer, bond with your kids in a no-Wi-Fi getaway For starters, I have dusted my old albums with dance photos, and been poring over them with my daughter. I have also taken baby steps back into dancing, with my daughter firmly in charge of my sessions. She ferries me to class, and attends the feedback sessions with the instructor, making her feel all grown up. For the past few weeks, she has had loads of fun chastising me, correcting my posture and making sure I get some practice. But most importantly, this has been an opportunity for her to look at me as a person rather than just a mom. It is a similar thought that drove Mumbai-based Ashutosh Parekh to opt for a unique track-and-field programme this summer for his family. While growing up, he was an early riser and thoroughly enjoyed the great outdoors. Over time, he helmed leading global brands within the kids and family entertainment space, which got him to understand the precarious balance between what a kid likes and what the parents want for them. Now, as a hands-on parent to a seven-year-old daughter, he has figured that the best way to introduce her to fitness and the joy of the outdoors is to lead by example. 'My wife and I also realise that being fit parents is the biggest gift you can give your child," he says. So, the family has enrolled for a unique programme with Automotive Sport, a passion project by entrepreneur Sachin Sanghvi, which caters to people of all fitness levels. For three days a week, you can find them jumping around with abandon at the Khar Gymkhana. There is no pressure of reaching a goal within a particular time frame. For Parekh and his family, it is just about seizing the day early, bringing a bit of discipline to their lives and for Parekh to relive the joy of doing track-and-field again. 'Usually, parents take time off in the day by going away to the gym or for a walk in the park. Activities with the kids are pre-programmed into the calendar—such as a dinner, a visit to the mall, or a holiday. But by including them in something you like on a daily basis, by allowing them to see you run a track, falling at times and gasping at others, makes it easier for the children to relate to you as a person, not just as mom or dad. This is my way of bringing my real self to her without making a big deal about it," he says. Also read: Isn't it time that Snow White learnt stranger-danger? Bengaluru-based Gayatri Vijayan, 43, too wanted to share her journey back into music with her children. Vijayan, who along with her husband Karthik Srinivasan helms a designer kids-safe furniture brand, Gosh!, had always been interested in different genres. The couple would sometimes jam at home with their friends. However, during the covid-19 pandemic, Vijayan decided to take up music seriously again. 'Some part of me wanted to show my children (aged 9 and 5) that there was more to me than just my work and role as a parent. I also craved the idea of learning something again," she says. With that thought, she enrolled with singer Bruce Lee Mani and picked up nuances of piano, vocals and guitar. Soon after, she started learning Hindustani classical with artist Bindhu Malini. 'I travel from Good Earth Malhar on the outskirts of Bengaluru to Koramangala for classes, but the long travel hours are worth it," she says. In recent years, Vijayan has performed as part of an ensemble in front of an audience of 3,000 people—her husband too played guitar in that gig. The day after that show, her daughter came up to her and wondered at how she had managed to sing in front of so many people. 'That is why it was important for me to do something like this. She needed to see how significant music was to her parents and the kind of effort that we were willing to put in. Today, both the kids are part of our performances or participate as audience members," she says. Their home is filled with a myriad of instruments, which the parents and kids play on a daily basis. Vijayan's re-engagement with music has inspired the children too, making them curious and open to the idea of exploring different things. Also read: Raising Financially Savvy Kids: The Essential Guide for Parents We usually burden the act of learning by time frames. As a society, we tend to believe skills and hobbies should be acquired by a certain age—the sooner the better. When, as adults, we break free of these fetters and pressures, we empower the younger generation as well. They too realise that curiosity and learning has no expiry date, and that you can rekindle a hobby or find a new one whenever you make space for it. In life, heroism often lies not in perfection but in perseverance—of returning to something you had abandoned in youth. And when we present the sum of all our parts to our kids, they get to imbibe this important life lesson, more than any lecture or moral science lesson can ever impart. Raising Parents is a monthly column about art culture ideas to inspire both children and adults. Topics You May Be Interested In
Mint
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Mint
Why it's important to give the kids a glimpse of your younger selves
I was visiting my daughter's school for a parent-teacher meeting, when I caught a glimpse of students practising adavus or fundamental Bharatanatyam steps, in one of the classrooms as I was climbing up a flight of stairs. It brought back memories of that unfettered joy of learning the classical form as a child, and practising the intricacies of Varnam—a composition combining nritya (dance) with abhinaya (expression)—with my classmates. 'Did you know I was the youngest in my batch to have the arangetram (a performance that marks the completion of formal training in Bharatanatyam)?" I remarked to my daughter. 'Really? You?" she blurted out in disbelief, as she watched me huffing and puffing up four flights of stairs—I had even considered requesting the teacher to meet me halfway, that's how out of breath I was. That's when I realised there were parts of me that I hadn't introduced my daughter to. Our single lifetime is made up of so many selves—avatars, if you may—some of which overlap with our current state of being, and some that we have bid adieu to keep up with the pressures of adulting. And as parents, we are so firmly ensconced within the role of caregivers that we forget the many layers that make up the mosaic of our personalities. Usually every spare minute in our lives is centred around furthering our children's interests. This holiday, why not reclaim some joy that was once associated with an activity or a hobby, and share that with our kids? The idea is not to take time away from them, but include them in something that was an integral part of our past. It could be a great way to bond, serve to inspire them or just offer the kids yet another chance to guffaw at us as we hobble back to a hobby. Also read: This summer, bond with your kids in a no-Wi-Fi getaway For starters, I have dusted my old albums with dance photos, and been poring over them with my daughter. I have also taken baby steps back into dancing, with my daughter firmly in charge of my sessions. She ferries me to class, and attends the feedback sessions with the instructor, making her feel all grown up. For the past few weeks, she has had loads of fun chastising me, correcting my posture and making sure I get some practice. But most importantly, this has been an opportunity for her to look at me as a person rather than just a mom. It is a similar thought that drove Mumbai-based Ashutosh Parekh to opt for a unique track-and-field programme this summer for his family. While growing up, he was an early riser and thoroughly enjoyed the great outdoors. Over time, as he helmed leading brands within the kids and family entertainment space, outdoor sports took a back seat. Now, as a parent to a seven-year-old daughter, he understands that the best way to introduce her to fitness and the joy of the outdoors is to lead by example. 'My wife and I also realise that being fit parents is the biggest gift you can give your child," he says. So, the couple and their daughter have enrolled for a unique programme with Automotive Sport, a passion project by entrepreneur Sachin Sanghvi, which caters to people of all fitness levels. For three days a week, you can find them jumping around with abandon at the Khar Gymkhana. There is no pressure of reaching a goal within a particular time frame. For Parekh and his family, it is just about seizing the day early, bringing a bit of discipline to their lives and for Parekh to relive the joy of doing track-and-field again. 'Usually, parents take time off in the day by going away to the gym or for a walk in the park. Activities with the kids are programmed into the calendar—such as a dinner, a visit to the mall, or a holiday. But by including them in something you like, by allowing them to see you run a track, falling at time and gasping at others, makes it easier for the children to relate to you as a person, not just as mom or dad. This is my way of bringing my real self to her without making a song and dance about it," he says. Also read: Isn't it time that Snow White learnt stranger-danger? Bengaluru-based Gayatri Vijayan, 43, too wanted to share her journey back into music with her children. Vijayan, who along with her husband Karthik Srinivasan helms a designer kids-safe furniture brand, Gosh!, had always been interested in different genres. The couple would sometimes jam at home with their friends. However, during the covid-19 pandemic, Vijayan decided to take up music seriously again. 'Some part of me wanted to show my children (aged 9 and 5) that there was more to me than just my work and role as a parent. I also craved the idea of learning something again," she says. With that thought, she enrolled with singer Bruce Lee Mani and picked up nuances of piano, vocals and guitar. Soon after, she started learning Hindustani classical with artist Bindhu Malini. 'I travel from Good Earth Malhar on the outskirts of Bengaluru to Koramangala for classes, but the long travel hours are worth it," she says. In recent years, Vijayan has performed as part of an ensemble in front of an audience of 3,000 people—her husband too played guitar in that gig. The day after that show, her daughter came up to her and wondered at how she had managed to sing in front of so many people. 'That is why it was important for me to do something like this. She needed to see how significant music was to her parents and the kind of effort that we were willing to put in. Today, both the kids are part of our performances or participate as audience members," she says. Their home is filled with a myriad of instruments, which the parents and kids play on a daily basis. Vijayan's re-engagement with music has inspired the children too, making them curious and open to the idea of exploring different things. Also read: Raising Financially Savvy Kids: The Essential Guide for Parents We usually burden the act of learning by time frames. As a society, we tend to believe skills and hobbies should be acquired by a certain age—the sooner the better. When, as adults, we break free of these fetters and pressures, we empower the younger generation as well. They too realise that curiosity and learning has no expiry date, and that you can rekindle a hobby or find a new one whenever you make space for it. In life, heroism often lies not in perfection but in perseverance—of returning to something you had abandoned in youth. And when we present the sum of all our parts to our kids, they get to imbibe this important life lesson, more than any lecture or moral science lesson can ever impart. Raising Parents is a monthly column about art culture ideas to inspire both children and adults.
