Author: Navina Jafa

Remembering Birju Maharaj, the Guru Who Took Kathak to New Heights

The maestro who passed away on January 17 brought a chiselled form of kathak to the modern proscenium transcending all ‘gharanas’. Moreover, his grasp of the essence of his dance vocabulary enabled him to communicate across the north-south divide in India and globally.

Birju Maharaj – Brijmohan Nath Mishra – whose name remains synonymous with kathak, was born into a family of illustrious kathak exponents in Lucknow in the mid-1930s. His gharana (school) came to be known after his ancestors – the Kalka-Bindadin Lucknow Gharana. Following the death of his father, the legendary Acchan Maharaj, when he was about nine years, he came under the wing of his uncle Shambhu Maharaj.

Thereafter, Birju’s mother Mahadai wrote to Kapila Vatsyayan (who had been a student of Acchan Maharaj) requesting her help for securing her son’s future. The youngster arrived in Delhi in the late 1940s and soon started teaching at Sangeet Bharati, an organisation set up by Nirmala Joshi, the first secretary of the Sangeet Natak Akademi (SNA). “He was about 12 and most of his students, like the Late Rani Karna, were older than him,” says Nand Kishore Kapote, Birju Maharaj’s former student and author of Nrityasamrat Pandit Birju Maharaj.

Birju Maharaj with his mother Mahadai. Photo: Courtesy of Birju Maharaj’s photo collection

Young Birju’s early days in Delhi consisted of a rigorous early morning practice followed by a bicycle ride to the Indian Coffee House in Connaught Place and then to Sangeet Bharti in central Delhi. The bicycle, given by Vatsyayan, still stands in Birju Maharaj’s house on Shahjahan Road in Delhi.

Vatsyayan encouraged the youngster to study and tutored him as well (she preserved two of his exercise books as a memory of those days). He was fascinated by action movies and mechanical devices. (Years later he expressed, “I see the human body as a machine, I am curious about the muscles, bone structure and the capacity of the body to create movement in the canvas of space.”) His child-like qualities endeared him to all.

The youngster also possessed sharp observation skills, a photographic memory and an ability to absorb the minutest quality of movement, emotions, sounds and rhythm. He was fortunate that in his journey he found individuals who supported and nurtured his talent.

Married at a very young age, family responsibilities made him accept the offer of arts patron Sumitra Charat Ram who was instrumental in establishing and running Delhi’s premier dance and music institute, namely the Bhartiya Kala Kendra. Birju Maharaj assisted his uncle Shambhu Maharaj in creating several dance ballets such as Kumar Sambhav and Sham-e-Awadh (on Wajid Ali Shah). In 1959, under the guidance of his uncle Lachhu Maharaj (who directed dances in major films like Mughal-e-Azam and Pakeezah) presented his first major production Malti Madhav. This dance-drama had a well-known duet of Birju Maharaj and Guru Kumudini Lakhia.

It was from this strong core of kathak activities that the Kathak Kendra, or the National Institute of Kathak Dance, came into existence in 1964 under the aegis of the Sangeet Natak Akademi. The institute, located in Bahawalpur House in central Delhi, proved to be a landmark in providing kathak and allied arts, space for growth and critique. In the early years, apart from Birju Maharaj, the Kathak Kendra had dance gurus like Kundan Lal, Munna Lal Shukla, Durga Lal, and Reba Vidyarthi for the foundation course of kathak; pakhawaj guru Puroshasttam Das of Nathdwara, tabla gurus Manika Prasad Mishra, Vishwanath Mishra (younger brother of Chhannulal Mishra) and Govind Chakravarti. A range of accompanists from traditional sarangi and tabla families were guided by committed cultural administrators ranging from Gopal Das, Govind Vidyarthi, Keshav Kothari and Jiwan Pani to steer kathak to new heights.

Birju Maharaj (centre) in class with his students at the Kathak Kendra in the late 1970s.

The guru who took the dance form and the institution to new heights was undoubtedly Birju Maharaj. It was here that he trained hundreds of students, created memorable dance productions that were rooted in the local but carried an element of universality that earned him international acclaim. His biggest achievement was that he not only brought kathak to the modern proscenium; he saw that virtual platforms were one aspect of the future they had to prepare for, so he laid the foundation for online classes as well.

Navina Jafa, a former student of the maestro, recalls the persona of Birju Maharaj the guru.

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As a student at the Kathak Kendra in the 1980s, one never came to know the actual names of Shanu and Manu. The two Chinese women had come to learn from Birju Maharaj in the late 1970s.

It was a delight to watch how Birju Maharaj inventively taught them the intrinsic ideas of rhythmic patterns. He would muse, Ama, inko kaise kathak kee cheezen batau (how do I explain nuances of kathak to them)?

Also read: Birju Maharaj and Munna Shukla Had Different Approaches but Shared Singular Love for Kathak

He would start by playing the tabla percussion. But, instead of the usual Indian performance syllables (bols), he would use different sounds, like ‘pum-pum or ‘chin-chin’ while executing the footwork he had created, which even today is  known as the Chinese ladee (a number of things strung together). In this case, ladee would mean rhythmic syllables strung together, says Raghav Rajbhatt, a student who accompanied and assisted Birju Maharaj for over a decade and, with his guru’s encouragement, popularised kathak in Telangana.

The Kathak Kendra was from the mid-1960s to mid-1990s the anchoring institution where Birju Maharaj nurtured his art of kathak and brought its aesthetics from the performance spaces of private courtyards and courts to the modern stage. He was largely responsible for the amplification of kathak in the international arena.

(Left to right) The guru performing with his students Durga Arya, Saswati Sen and Bipul Das. Photo: Courtesy of Bipul Das

Although he was not formally educated by modern or Western standards, as one of India’s most travelled performers, Maharaj Ji, as he was known, had the comprehensive experience to compare and distinguish the variations in Indian dance aesthetics from those in Western dance formats such as ballet and modern dance.

My routine in the 1980s was to go to the Kathak Kendra for my morning practice before hopping on to a bus to reach Delhi University in time for my classes. I would frequently find Maharaj Ji practising with utmost concentration in the next room. To me it was astonishing that an artist of his calibre, who was at the peak of his career, found it essential to practice daily!

Birju Maharaj had a unique routine in that he would usually practise facing his shadow, formed by a ray of sunlight filtering into the room from a corner, with the greater part of the room still dark.

Once I asked him the purpose of practising with shadows and darkness. He remarked, “Shadows allow me to engage with the purity of the line of my body movements. At the same time, executing footwork in the dark and in silence makes the sound much louder. It enables a process of immersion, moving in that shoonyata. In this shoonyata, the body is tuned with nature to understand the laya and pulse of life.”

He quoted Kabir:

Re Sadho! yah tan thaath tambure ka
paanch tatva ka bana hai tambura taar laga nau ture ka
ainchat taar marorte khoontee niksat raag hajure ka
toote taar bikhar gayi khoontee ho gaya dhoor madhoore ka
kahe ‘Kabir’ suno bhai saadho agam panth koi soore ka.

(The body is a tambura that requires one to tune the strings; only then is a melody created. But the body is fragile and will perish, and hence Kabir says that though a difficult path, it is the karma of the committed to tuning the body constantly to the song of the Lord.)

At that moment I had remembered William Butler Yeats:

Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

Birju Maharaj’s interactions with international students and foreign spaces stand out for the effort he put into them. While teaching young women students from Europe or America he thought a lot about how to communicate the idea of the concept of ghungat (veil) or nakhra (coyness) that was outside their cultural experience in a modern-day setting. His global popularity was anchored in the rooted Indianness that he succeeded in communicating to the West.

Birju Maharaj performing in Pune, 2012. Photo: Sudhanwa/CC BY-SA 3.0

Raghav Rajbhatt remembers the occasions when Birju Maharaj would show his foreign students exactly what he meant. He would enact the role of Radha or a gopi – lowering his eyes out of shyness and reverence, his body shrinking in coyness – and ask the students to be Krishna!

As he once said, “I never have to negotiate my Indianness to present contemporary themes. One only needs to have command over the intrinsic element of one’s dance grammar. If you are confident in your body and in the vocabulary you possess, you will create and express traditional and contemporary themes with ease. Also, you do not need to have the padding of designer costumes, fancy lighting and sound to convey your story through kathak.”

Also read: Why the Solo Classical Dancer Needs to be Saved

During his international travels Birju Maharaj and Vidushi Sawswati Sen (who was one of his earliest students) would often perform exclusively for the Indian diplomatic community. Former diplomat B.R. Muthu Kumar recalls that during his posting in Germany, his senior asked him to ensure that Birju Maharaj and Saswati Sen performed on August 15 at the new opera house in Frankfurt. After the concert, Kumar hosted a dinner and Birju Maharaj found out that it was the birthday of their host. “The most memorable gift that day for me was Maharaj singing on my birthday at home and Saswati doing tukdas (abstract pure dance compositions) to Maharaj’s bol. It was 40 minutes of sheer bliss,” recounts Kumar.

Raghav Rajbhatt has his own stock of anecdotes as well. “On a government tour to the Netherlands we had three shows of Maharaj Ji’s dance ballet Roopmati Baaz Bahadur, and had fashioned cardboard swords for the war scenes. The dancers performed so enthusiastically that the swords broke during the first show itself!  There were some Dutch workers hanging around in the auditorium after the show.

“Between Maharaj Ji and me, we mimed our way to a store where packaging material was lying around. I created two swords out of it, and then Maharaj Ji and I tried them out by using them in a fight.  The workers in the auditorium thought we were fighting with real swords and tried to make us stop. Maharaj Ji tried to tell them that the swords were harmless but failed to do so. Finally, he asked me to hit him with the sword. I exclaimed, how can I hit my guru? But Maharaj Ji scolded me, so I raised the sword and hit him. The workers realised what was happening and we all had a good laugh!”

In the past couple of years, the COVID-19 pandemic made people across the world become familiar with terms like lockdown, isolation and social distancing, bringing travel almost to a standstill, but Birju Maharaj was unfazed. He worked till the very end, teaching students online even from hospital. During the period of lockdown he published a compilation of his musical and poetic compositions titled, Brij Shyam Kahe (Brij Shyam was his pen name).

Truly, the guru who brought a chiselled form of kathak transcending all gharanas to the modern proscenium, negotiated the dynamics of the virtual stage, created a critical viewership for the dance form across India and abroad, and laid so much emphasis on communicating kathak’s essence to students across the globe, was a ”universal, living Madhurya Krishna” (Krishna who is the very essence of sweetness), as described by Srivats Goswami from the Chaitanya Premsansthan in Vrindavan.

As for Birju Maharaj’s ability to inhabit traditional and contemporary themes with effortless ease, be rooted and universal at the same time, the challenge will be to take forward that legacy.

Navina Jafa is vice-president of Centre for New Perspectives, a think tank that works on intangible heritage, traditional knowledge through research and pilot programmes for sustainable development.

Interview: Alarmel Valli on the Emerging Ecology of Classical Dance

“Irrespective of the subject, it is when meaning in dance is suggestive and embodied rather than overtly explained that it has the greatest power to move, inspire and transform,” the Bharatanatyam dancer says.

For the noted Bharatanatyam exponent, Alarmel Valli, life lived in social isolation in the time of COVID-19 has added one more dimension to her contemplation on the relationship between the older and the emerging ecology of classical dance.

In the course of an interview, the Padma Bhushan awardee reflected on various issues: the potential of repositioning traditional content and aesthetics in a new online space, choosing and interpreting traditional content to reflect contemporary realities, and seeing classical dance as an art with an inherent social component that enables self-growth and growth in the awareness of the larger community.

Excerpts from the interview:

As an artiste, you have consistently engaged with the idea of mastering space in order to craft and showcase dance. Can you elaborate on how you perceive space? 

Dance is constantly evolving and as my mother would often point out, “No matter how accomplished you may be, never forget you are as a mustard seed compared to the vastness of the art.” Every day is part of a ceaseless process of learning and growing.

Alarmel Valli: experiencing each space as her natural element. Photo: Udayakumar

Speaking of spaces in performance, a complete dancer sculpts not just the physical, but equally, the psychological and spiritual spaces, too. How meaningfully this is achieved depends on the depth and richness of the dancer’s art.

When I was 15, I saw the legendary T. Balasaraswati dancing at the Music Academy in Chennai. I vividly recall how she stood before a mike on one side of the vast stage and presented a prelude to every dance by singing and embroidering the opening line with hand gestures. Her myriad interpretations of a single Tamil word – vaari (combed) – from a poem and her depiction of the woman combing and dressing her long tresses were wonderfully mirrored by her song improvisations.

At one point I could not distinguish between music and dance, between the swaras and the text – between the dancer and the dance. And she achieved this while standing in a space some three feet square.

Not everyone can have Bala Amma’s genius. In my experience, I have found that the key to effectively sculpting space and not feeling either overpowered or restricted by it, is to experience each space as your natural element. Then, whether performing on intimidatingly vast stages or in handkerchief-sized studios, the body adapts and flows outwards or contracts, in movement cadences best suited to either expansive or constricted spaces.

With the rise of social media platforms, and more so in these challenging times of COVID-19, art has increasingly sought a place in virtual space. How do you respond to the idea of presenting dance in that virtual space?

In the Indian tradition, dance, poetry and song are inseparably linked. But, in our age of sensationalism and larger-than-life physicality in dance, where the pursuit of ‘likes’ and ‘followers’ in the world of social media often dictates aesthetic choices, these subtle but vital connections tend to be marginalised. However, whenever this seamless link between music, dance and poetry is successfully evoked and reiterated, it can create powerful and beautiful moments in online presentations.

Alarmel Valli: from a performance of ‘The Forgotten Seed’, a Tamil poem from the Sangam era. Photo: Prasana Venkatesh R.

You have mentioned in earlier interviews that you grew up at a time when technology was not so advanced and that you actually considered this to be an advantage. In today’s technology-driven world, what is your attitude towards technology’s role in the transmission of performance for an online stage?

In my early years of training, we had no televisions, handy cams or digital recorders, let alone computers and internet. My gurus would not even permit us to take notes in class. Students had to rely entirely on memory and observation, on concentration and introspection. I feel this leisurely process of intense focus and introspection freed the imagination and enriched creative growth.

But technology is unquestionably a boon – so long as it doesn’t become a crutch. And it’s all the more valuable today in creating effective transitions between physical and digital spaces. Noted filmmaker Balu Mahendra, after seeing Pravahi, a documentary on me by director and writer Arun Khopkar, commented on how the superb camerawork gave  dance an intimacy that would not have been possible in a live performance, where minute, subtle nuances of expression would have been lost to anyone who was not seated in the first two rows.

The filmmaker was referring to an atmospheric Tamil Sangam poem, where Madhu Ambat’s inspired cinematography had not just followed but anticipated the slow progress of an outstretched arm, capturing moments of charged stillness with tight close-ups. The tears in my eyes were magnified a hundredfold on the large cinema screen.

While at the Maison de la Danse in Lyon for a performance, I once again saw how magic can be worked on film, in a dance documentary on modern dancer Carolyn Carlsson’s art. The dance was specially choreographed for the camera. In India, however, dance film – as a pas de deux for dance and camera where each medium enhances the other – needs to evolve more to give digital performances the same immediacy and warmth of live performances.

Also read: Why Classical Dance Must Move From Performance to Experience

While teaching  your students, how have you tackled their conditioning to create a new aesthetic for an online performance space?

As a child, my mother would reiterate time and again that to be a multi-faceted creative artist and not a mere virtuoso performer, I needed to enrich myself [by delving into] literature, poetry, the visual arts, history, psychology and philosophy. “If you do not observe life and nature keenly and learn from them, your art will be impoverished,” she would say. My gurus in music and dance, too, were repositories of great artistic lineages who epitomised the values of beauty and truth in art.

Alarmel Valli: from a performance of ‘Pushpa Vilapam’, a Telugu poem of the 1930s. Photo: NCPA

I do not train my students specifically in the creation of new aesthetics for online presentations. But I follow my mother’s and my gurus’ holistic approach when shaping my students, and I try to sensitise them to observe, recognise and respond to the beauty and mystery all around them.

Only then, like seeds planted in well-nurtured soil that germinate and grow into beautiful plants and trees, can they grow creatively. Then, when the need arises, they will discover innovative aesthetic solutions to new challenges, whether it is about dance in online spaces or something else. And hopefully they will do so with truth.

Through the example of a traditional literary abhinaya piece, can you illustrate the manner in which content can be approached for a performance where ruptures and existence of social reality are incorporated in a dance performance?

I have always maintained that rather than as mere social comment, the lasting human relevance of classical Indian dance lies in its potential to harmonise the physical, intellectual, emotional and spiritual dimensions of life. At its finest and truest it’s not just a vehicle for self-expression, but an instrument for ‘knowing’ and accessing the divine within.

Irrespective of the subject, it is when meaning in dance is suggestive and embodied rather than overtly explained that it has the greatest power to move, inspire and transform. Two poems come to mind. Though they are separated in time by some two millennia – one, an ancient Tamil Sangam poem, and the other, a modern Telugu poem written in the 1930s – both reaffirm the inseparable link between the human and natural worlds.

Watch: What is Sufi-Kathak? | Interview with Pioneering Dancer Manjari Chaturvedi

The Forgotten Seed, from the Sangam era, centres around a laurel tree under which a young couple is engaged in love-play. A friend of the heroine subtly points out the indelicacy of their dalliance under a tree which they had nurtured tenderly from a seed, which is therefore their little sister and which, their mother has told them, is far greater than them.

In stark contrast to the teasing tone of the heroine’s friend in Tamil poem is the agony, bitterness and pathos of the flower protagonist of a Telugu poem, a performance I premiered in January last year. Here, a pious devotee is torn between his deep-rooted belief in the rite of pushpanjali (worship with flowers) and his new-found awareness of flowers as sentient beings. If violated Nature could speak, it would be like the flower’s lament in the performance of Pushpa Vilapam. There are no facile, topical, eco-messages here. Yet, both poems, with their embodied meaning and subtexts, are an urgent and powerful cry for the environment.

Navina Jafa is vice-president of Centre for New Perspectives, a think tank that works on intangible heritage, traditional knowledge through research and pilot programmes for sustainable development.

‘Compromise of Democracy’: How the Govt’s Central Vista Revamp Plan Ignores Heritage

Many countries in the past have tried to safeguard heritage by ‘relocating’ and not replacing.

The controversy about re-designing the Central Vista reflects the ruling party’s idea of cultural nationalism. This step also at once ruptures the ‘global advantage’ India enjoys when it comes to international heritage diplomacy, the tourism industry and most of all, the collective memory of the creation of a republic and a democracy.

Politics of architectural symbolism are continuously echoed in historical processes. Politicised architecture presents a lens for perceived national or community identity by a political regime, as was seen in the ‘Mayawati parks‘. Capital cities, specifically, are intersections between power and architecture, feeding the vision of a political agenda of a single nationhood.

However, the central government’s hurry to  on ‘replace’ the identity of Delhi, the capital city of India, takes spatial politics to another level. After all, Delhi has its history of power territories represented in historic cities.

The 1985 Delhi NCR Act states that no additional government buildings should be constructed within Delhi. The proposal being pushed by the government cites for lack of office space and modern facilities.  The upgrading of heritage spaces can be done by following rules and by bringing people into the debate of preserving, not replacing, heritage-scapes.

The strategy must aim to conserve the cultural, historical and humanistic values that are part of the collective narrative of Delhi’s urban spaces and that of the people of India.

A visual canvas for the republic 

The entire heritage zone of the Central Vista represents the space where India presents itself as a republic and as a democracy.

Also read: Leading Architects Concerned About Central Vista Revamp Plan for New Delhi

It is the location for national celebrations of the Republic Day, ending with the Beating of Retreat. It is the space where the democratic republic reclaimed the King’s Way as Rajpath (‘the rulers’ road’), which meets the Queen’s Way as Janpath (‘the people’s road’).

The people of India have the right to assert preservation of the visual quality of the heritage zone that marks their political identity of world’s largest democracy and republic.

Relocate not replace

It will be appropriate if the present regime chose to ‘relocate’ instead of replacing heritage architecture. There are several other examples all over the world for relocating and incorporating their specific design of power centres. Even Myanmar’s military rulers in 2005, while choosing to move the capital from Yangon to Naypyidaw did not pull down the colonial heritage.  Security and national identity were reasons cited for moving their capital.

The Delhi skyline with India Gate visible. Photo: Jaskirat Singh Bawa/Flickr (CC BY-SA 2.0)

Nigeria, yet another post-colonial country, shifted its capital in 1991 from Lagos to Abuja citing security, modernised requirements, accommodating additional government machinery, neutrality and establishing their version of a national identity.

Russia quoted maritime security reason in 1918 for relocating its capital city from St. Petersburg to Moscow. Similar reasons explain Shahjahan shifting the capital from Agra to Delhi, and the British moving from Calcutta to Delhi.

Breach in heritage diplomacy

Heritage diplomacy provides a common ground for conserving the best of cultural expressions by humanity. These are nodal spaces for nationalism and internationalism.

Heritage diplomatic programmes unfold histories of international engagement. The Central Vista Heritage Zone in Delhi is one such space. Herbert Baker, the architect who designed the Secretariat blocks in Delhi, made them in his distinct style similar to the design of the Union Buildings in South Africa.

The design of the Mall from the Raisina Hill to the India Gate and the eternal flame for the ‘Unknown Soldier’ is similar to the plan in Washington D.C. in the United States from the Capitol Hill to the Washington Monument.

Also read: Lutyens’ Delhi Set to Undergo Massive Changes As Part of Govt’s Revamp Move

The Central Vista, Parliament and Secretariat complex are significant components for Delhi to apply for the tag of World Heritage City.

This status locates a city within the frame of International Heritage Diplomatic discourse. The Central Vista heritage zone along with a contrasting experience of the Mughal boulevard in Shahjahanabad in Old Delhi tops the ‘must see’ list of most travellers.

The spatial display of multiple power-public architectures provides a fascinating insight into the existent living heritage of coexistence and the idea of diverse India in a democratic frame.

The idea by the Dutch concept of ‘mutual heritage’ launched in the 1990s, is yet another dimension of heritage diplomacy. It opens lines for cross-cultural people to people dialogue and shared history for future engagements. Mutual heritage programmes serve to build a contested past for a constructive present and future.

Another example of heritage diplomacy is the American Embassy’s Ambassador’s Fund. By replacing the Central Heritage Zone in the capital of India, that represents the Indian republic and democracy, the argument of Cultural Nationalism trivialises history and the latitudinal space to assert global leadership in heritage diplomacy.

Culture Ministry’s 100-Day Action Plan Pays No Heed to the Economy or Environment

The government should recognise that a heritage site does not exist in isolation; it is a part of a larger region-specific cultural ecosystem.

The 100-day action plan recently proposed by culture minister Prahlad Singh Patel ignores two major crises India is facing – an economic slowdown and a water-related emergency.

This should not be altogether surprising. Multiple misconceptions surround the idea of ‘culture’. Often dismissed and limited to dance, music, crafts, festivals and visual and literary arts, it is even separated from one of its inherent elements – heritage. The latter is restricted to monuments and historical sites.

Ignored cultural landscape for development

The Ministry of Culture’s plan offers a ‘Greening India’ vision, which includes water harvesting by digging multiple pits at 123 heritage sites.

A heritage site does not exist in isolation; it is a part of a larger region-specific cultural ecosystem. However, a poor understanding of cultural heritage has led to heritage sites being disconnected from their surroundings, which in turn has resulted in imbalanced development.

The Taj Mahal, for example, has been cut off from the specificities of Agra city and the Yamuna river that flows near it. Contrast this with the Agha Khan Trust’s initiative to conserve Humayun’s Tomb in New Delhi, and its holistic approach that includes the Nizamuddin Basti.

The government’s efforts at cultural conservation need a more definitive strategy. The programme should address the water crisis, creates jobs and be in line with sustainable development goals. One way to do this would be to begin by tabulating a geographical region-wise grid of the 123 heritage escapes, coordinated with local traditional water-wisdom and other scientific heritage knowledge.

Also read: In Bengaluru, 121 Species of Trees Thrive In Sacred Sites, Stand Against March of Urbanisation

Then, this tabulated information should be translated into action by evolving a plan for systematic community engagement with the heritage sites. The sites can be the focal point to form ‘paramapara panchayats’. The plan must work to bring in groups like the anagnwadis, resident welfare associations and other civil society bodies to actively claim community ownership of water security and practical science for everyday life.

Third, information on the multilayered heritage site programme should be communicated to the larger community, so they can be involved. For this, using regional and language-specific folk performing arts can be effective, and also provide jobs for marginalised skilled performer communities and help conserve intangible heritage.

This combined heritage programme in the 123 heritage sites can link water issues and job creation in each heritage landscape. The site programme will serve to connect local natural heritage with traditional science and skill heritage. It will empower communities at the grassroots level and ensure sustainability.

Redirecting community participation

The action plan also talks about taking scientific knowledge to rural children by investing in mobile van science museums. Viewing the present national crises, the culture of science needs to be a part of everyday life. As mentioned above, that can happen through the suggested heritage site programme.

The site programme can incorporate, for instance, besides traditional water-wisdom, scientific heritage on categorising plants by indigenous communities or sustainable practices concerning seeds and irrigation. The mobile van ‘museums’ are a non-productive and misdirected utilisation of public money, and ignore larger and more urgent issues.

Additionally, the action plan will develop places for aarti along sacred rivers for daily pilgrims by installing large LED screens and audio systems. This spectacle is again ignoring the urgent issues of community ownership, maintenance and recharging of the ‘sacred’ water bodies. The rivers, lakes, ponds and step-wells need to be de-silted and cleaned.

The contrast can be best gauged by referring to contrasting community expressions. Water expert Farhad Contractor says, “The urban city of Udaipur illustrates existent living water wisdom and community practices. For instance, during the celebration of the festival of Ganghaur, women gather around lakes. They engage in cleaning the lakes so that they can continue to be used by the people and provide clean recreational and worship spaces.”

Also read: The Changing Face of Delhi: Redesigned and Redefined Through the Ages

In contrast, the present Uttar Pradesh government in the Badaun district organised daily aartis during the Kanwariya Yatra. Reports say that the district collector routinely attended the aartis, rather than motivating the public to take ownership and participate in cleaning the Ganga. This is similar to the recently completed spectacle of the Ardh Kumbh that was converted to a Maha Kumbh Mela celebration by the Uttar Pradesh government. At the end of the festival, it was evident that there was no plan to deal with the garbage created, leaving the river and the city dirtier than before.

The Union Ministry of Culture’s misplaced action plan ignores the potentiality of culture to contribute to development. In the directionless plan, the emphasis is on using culture to create spectacles. The lack of engagement with experts as consultants is evident.

With the economy nose-diving, and important issues like joblessness and water scarcity plaguing society, the 100-day action plan is flimsy. There is the need to bring in cultural heritage professionals, and for responsible investment to address larger issues rather than focus only on spiritual spectacles.

Navina Jafa is vice-president of Centre for New Perspectives, a think tank that works on intangible heritage, traditional knowledge through research and pilot programmes for sustainable development.

Why the Solo Classical Dancer Needs to be Saved

Government apathy and commercial compulsions have led Indian classical dance towards group performances and away from where its true genius lies — the solo artiste.

Show me how a community dances and I’ll tell you if they are healthy or not.

– Confucius

The lack of a National Cultural Policy, poorly equipped cultural administrators and managers, and impaired comprehension of the cultural economics of Indian classical dance and music has made these traditions vulnerable.

On the surface, the large number of festivals and social media traction these get makes it appear as if these art forms are in great health, but below are complications that endanger the core of these traditions.

Central to the rupture is the pivotal nurturing of solo art in dance. Barring Manipuri and Kuchipudi where the solo format is still evolving, most Indian classical dance traditions are solo in character. The knowledge pool of trained solo artists are essential as breeding grounds for star performers, choreographers, thinkers, performing arts critics and the gurus of tomorrow. 

Failure of government institutions

Anita. Credit: Ram Rahman

Anita Ratnam performs contemporary dance in front of a portrait of Birju Maharaj. Photo: Ram Rahman

Indifferent government cultural institutions and offices in India, manned by ill-qualified cultural administrators and management is the most important reason for the crises as the state remains the single largest patron of the performing arts.

The legitimisation and identification of talent in classical dance and music is largely based on:

(a) the grading system instituted by government agencies such as the Indian Council for Cultural Relations, Doordarshan and the All India Radio; and

(b) the awards established by the state such as those given by the Sangeet Natak Akademi and the Central government’s Padma awards.  

The administrative and governing bodies in state institutions function with their own biases. Manipulation of results quite often result in the marginalisation of deserving candidates who could be young or established soloists, gurus or scholars. A system like this implies that even the awards organisers (state or private) end up promoting mediocre talent on several occasions. 

The inefficiently administered Sangeet Natak Akademi and its affiliated bodies such as the Kathak Kendra, Kalakshetra and Manipur Dance Akademi, have taken to promoting average talent. In addition, they have stunted vision statements and ineffective action plans. For instance, the mismanagement of the Kathak Kendra is evident from the fact that the administrative staff is larger than the community of artistes it serves and that most of the staff are relatives of the unproductive top administration. 

Instead of nurturing or promoting solo Kathak performers, the management invests in a production unit ‘repertory’ to churn out group performances, which are economically more attractive to the institute. The productions have become more about cloned performers and packaged products. 

The problem is further augmented by ‘pay to perform’ and ‘pay to write’ scandals where a solo dancer is asked to pay organisers so that he or she can perform and writers are paid to write previews or reviews. While the former forms a disreputable nexus between organisers and senior dancers, the latter advocates for advertisements – there are now elaborate previews and prepaid reviews. 

Economics and the guru

Most gurus have registered societies and schools under which nurturing soloists is less profitable than organising group productions. The government needs to come in to introduce and monitor incentives to gurus and establish mentorship programs.

Solo dance performance opportunities are few. The sustained efforts of the SPIC MACAY that provides opportunities for all age groups of performers, the month long performance season in Chennai, the Mudra Festival organised by the National Centre for Performing Arts in Mumbai, festivals only for young soloists like Aarambh by the Raza Foundation and Raindrops by the Sam Ved Society in Mumbai are lone examples.

Also read: Nurturing and Embracing Womanhood Through Dance

The cultural economics of these performance spaces comprise sponsorship, grants and tickets. Largely funded by government grants and private contributions SPIC-MACAY, for instance, “aims to build discerning audiences through lecture demonstrations and performances,” says its artiste committee national advisor Ashok Jain. For the Chennai performance season, however, subsidised ticketing is not enough and the hefty financial requirements necessitate private funding. 

Marginalisation in festivals

The 1980s saw the opening of the economy coinciding with a series of festivals of India. The latter was a new, hyped model to display Indian classical dance. The dynamic Keshav Kothari, former secretary of the Sangeet Natak Akademi, who was trained in Kathak and cultural management (about which he wrote a book) said, “While a few solo stars such as Alarmel Valli and Malavika Sarukkai were born in the course of performing in the festivals of India; the more prominent result was staging a group choreography to convey a polished, professional and global finished product which could be compared with the likes of the Swan Lake presented at the Bolshoi.”

The result was the creation of a new generation of avant-garde choreographers like Kumudini Lakhia (Kathak) and Chandralekha (Bharatnatyam). They brought professionalism and discipline in the creative community along with design, minimalism and an abstract element in their work that was appealing to the contemporary and the global market. At present, the Ministry of Culture is still frozen in the archaic model. 

Showcased displays of group dance are commercially viable but kill the instinctive element that soloists bring. Photo: The Wire

Thinker and  diplomat P.N. Haksar who wrote the Haksar Committee Report that studied the efficacy of the three art academies said, “The festival model will result in mushrooming of impresarios with little understanding of the dance. The spectacle, showcasing and money will dictate the patronage pattern impacting the core of these traditions. India requires cultural administrators who are both subject experts and educated in cultural management specific to postcolonial contexts.”

The dance company phenomenon

The prophetic observation by Haksar is evident in the rise of a number of event management companies who now are central to showcased displays of dance. The emergence of private dance companies is also something that was foreseen. Of the several listed companies just a few seem to function as ‘commercial’, professional dance organisations. Most ‘companies’ are registered societies engaged in the teaching of dance; their event-lists comprise self-produced or commissioned performances and random events. The Abhinava Dance Company by Nirupama and Rajendra in Bengaluru and the Dristikon company of Aditi Mangaldas are two examples of organisations which work as actual companies. Apart from teaching, they hire the services of artistes, professionally market performances and present group productions as a spectacle product. Their target audiences and platforms are generally the neo-Indian urban and foreign markets. 

Also read: Annapurna Devi, the Legendary Musician and Guru

The character of their productions are ‘contemporary’ and packaged. They do not factor in the essential spontaneity or openness which is the measure of individual genius marked by upaj and manodharma — impromptu creation and improvisation.  Recorded music, designer costumes, sound and lighting effects define the productions. This money-making product dazzles but on most occasions leads to camouflaging mediocre dancing and increasingly diminishing content.  

The solo performance is the ‘centre’ of Indian classical dance. Nav Pallava, a recently launched counter-movement against the ‘pay to perform’ model is being spearheaded by SPIC MACAY’s Ashok Jain. It is a collaboration of senior gurus and dancers of various regional cities. The programmes present promising individual talent and the audiences donate at the entrance to pay the performer. 

The indifference of the government too needs to be addressed soon. Replacing the current administrators with those who are subject knowledge experts and trained in culture will help. These positions need to be upgraded by offers of better pay, functional independence and higher official status. Only then will cultural policies and the effective ‘vision action’ be realised. This is what eminent poet, cultural administrator and patron of arts Ashok Vajpeyi meant when he said, “While there is a popular pressure or demand for the group, it is in the solo artist that the individual genius is seen, and the traditions of dance secured. The government has to rigorously promote the solo artist in dance.”

Navina Jafa is vice-president of Centre for New Perspectives, a think tank that works on intangible heritage, traditional knowledge through research and pilot programs for sustainable development.

Nurturing and Embracing Womanhood Through Dance

A WhatsApp group has become a platform to discuss varied journeys in dance.

A few months ago, a 16-member WhatsApp group ‘Think Dance’ brought together largely young professionals, male, female dancers from a variety of Indian classical dance traditions. The platform provides an avenue to discuss varied journeys in dance. It is ironical that seven decades into our independence, women are asserting their position in a territory where the category of Indian classical dance and music emerged in the discourse of cultural nationalism by marginalising women public performers – the tawaifs, devadasis and maharis.

The prompt for Women’s Day on the WhatsApp group was an illustration from my own journey:

“I learned a composition Paran-aamad that had two mnemonic syllables – Thung-Gaa. It was first taught in a broad manly manner. Subsequently, the movement attained a sense of feminine curve. Later, as [a] researcher, I spent an entire night with two tawaifs who were court dancers in the State of Rampur (UP).

They told me that their Guru Achhan Maharaj (father of Birju Maharaj) taught the movement by being inspired by the manner the dhobis (Washermen) wash clothes by swinging and slamming the cloth on a stone as if it were a movement forming an S. At a later date when giving birth to my first child after long labor, the first syllables that came from my mouth were Thung-Gaa. I meditated and as I now perform – the Thung symbolizes my rootedness while the Gaa, the flight of empowerment with the thought that my body gave birth to a new life.”

The responses

Odissi dancer Madhur Gupta described his journey of performing Radha in a verse ‘Ya hee Madhav, Ya hee Keshav’ from the 12th-century poem ‘Gita Govinda’. “The verse narrates how Krishna who has dallied with maidens all night returns in the morning to Radha. She petulantly sends him away. As a young dancer for me I performed keeping in mind the pain of Radha, but now [when] I enact, I interpret her as empowered. She is complete but Krishna needs other energies of women to complete himself.”

Also read: Why You Might Find Me Dancing Bharatanatyam in the Middle of a Crowded Street

Significant content in Indian dances surfaces from the gaathas (stories) associated with Indian Gods who in themselves are timeless metaphors. The stories situate the Gods in two worlds of sociological and metaphysical context. “Krishna, as male,” says Gupta “gathers empathy in our patriarchal world, which Radha would not have had she dallied with other men. In fact, she would be perceived as a loose woman.” But the other dimension is that Krishna is provided with a greater status as he is perceived as a sacred metaphor and his worldly deviance dismissed.

Madhur Gupta. Credit: Mohit Wadhwa

Purvadhanashree chose from her repertoire of Vilasini Natyam dance of the Telegu devadasis. “I have never met any devadasi, and yet when I perform, I aspire to recreate [a] sacred ritualistic environment on the modern stage. For example, in the Abhinaya of a Varnam ‘Samivinara,’ my intention echoes the multiple roles a devadasi played in her association with Lord Shiva. She is his friend, confidant, devotee and teacher. The feminine empowerment is danced in the surrender to the idea of Shiva. In the process, I bring myself and reclaim the space for the art of marginalised women performers.”

Sangita Chatterjee. Credit: Jean-Pierre Poutre

The responses then took a life of their own. Kathak dancer Divya Dikshit Goswami described a movement called ardhalingan (half embrace) – stimulation of which arises from just above the breasts. “Interestingly, I first saw the movement in two male bodies. Its circular flow provides immense possibility, the centrality of my feminine beauty as a vessel is positioned to fuse a variety of my thoughts with the outer world.”

Sangita Chatterjee and Harpreet Kaur Jass had interesting interpretations of Kathak chakkars (pirouettes). Chatterjee said: “The chakkars, on the one hand, affirm power and grit, but as I grew into motherhood, it assumed the symbolic circular journey of life.”

Dance is often a language to bridge the gap between genders. Kaur Jass performs the 18th-century Punjabi tragic romance ‘Heer,’ also perceived as a Sufi’s sojourn. While she remains in the centre, her body re-creates the idea of chant (jaap) by using, in a chain, half reverse pirouettes. This evolves as a way to transcend gender.

Nurturing the woman in the young

It is interesting the manner in which teaching of dance translates itself as contemplation of the identity of being a woman. This was illustrated in the response of Jayashree Acharaya, who says:

“While teaching young girls, I often use images to bring out the inner poetry of abstract dance as learned from my Guru Pandit Birju Maharaj ji. Those images unconsciously make them enjoy their feminine identity. For example, the opening of the palm and moving it around is about showing the beauty of henna patterns, while spinning in half circles with stretched arms is about surrounding your body with colors of joy.”

Bharatnatyam dancer Sneha Chakradhar referred to the choreography of a poem ‘Chidiya ki paheli udaan ka gee’ – the song of the first flight of a bird. “The poem written and sung by my father Ashok Chakradhar alludes to India’s freedom. Yet, for me, it was the symbol of that free bird who flies and rests from the roof of a temple to that of a mosque; from one country to another. I use patterns of rhythmic syllables (jatis) and nuances of my dance vocabulary to choreograph the poem. Yes, while I clutch the window bars I look out to that bird who knows no borders, no discrimination I turn to dance to break free.”

Navina Jafa is vice-president of Centre for New Perspectives, a think tank that works on intangible heritage, traditional knowledge through research and pilot programs for sustainable development.

The Sentinelese and the Dilemma of Conservation Without Contact

The killing of an American missionary is a reminder of the need to ensure the conservation of their habitat.

The many accounts about the killing of John Allen Chau by the Sentinelese has brought to light not only the misplaced zeal of missionaries, but also the rights of indigenous communities to defend themselves their resources, lands and determine their own futures.

Articles published on the issue have also recreated an ‘exotica’: describing the Sentinelese as the most isolated, or oldest human community, or speaking of ‘the moment’ when an anthropologist created history by making contact with them. This exotica could actually raise the hopes of daring folks to make contact for trophy – or selfie – moments.

On another level, an Australian senator has politicised the issue by pretending to applaud the Sentinelese, in a comparison to Australia rejecting Asian migrants. The Andamanese have long fascinated and created dread among outsiders; both Marco Polo and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle considered them monstrous.

Also Read: The Doctor’s Diary That Holds Clues About the Residents of North Sentinel

Since the Sentinelese remain un-contactable, knowledge about them is limited to the few exchanges made. Still, according to the anthropologist A.K. Das, one can gain approximate knowledge on their languages and cultures through studies on more accessible Andaman communities, like the Onges, the Great Anadamanese, and the Jarawas.

The Onges believe in benevolent and malevolent spirits that reside in the forests and the sea. The spirits can be divided into those linked to natural phenomenon such as tsunamis, earthquakes, winds from different directions, and rainbows; and those linked to the dead.

There is a sequence to burial rites, where rituals are performed to assist the soul to transform into a spirit benevolent toward the community. The corpse is painted, then wrapped in large leaves and secured by reeds, and faced towards the rising sun, which hastens decomposition. The east is also believed to be the direction where the spirit flies, and after the burial rites, the community moves away from the location.

The bodies of ‘enemies’ are also buried and left alone, for they are perceived to be malevolent spirits. While addressing the body, the community shoots arrows rapidly into the surroundings to drive away the evil effects of the spirit.

First contacts

These islanders have their own narratives of contact. In the mid-18th century, the Danish East India Company landed in Nicobar (which they would abandon a century later). The Car Nicobarese, says Das, perceived the Danes as the spirits of their ancestors with flaxen hair, blue eyes, carrying fob or pocket watches, wearing hats – even smoking cigars. Once the Danes left, the Nicobarese created the wooden sculptures of their ancestors wearing only loincloths seated on chairs with Western accessories of watches, hats and cigars.

The tribes of Andaman islands. Credit: Bidyut Kumar Das.

The British later attempted to control the Islanders, especially the Great Andamanese, who were practically wiped out due to invasion and disease. The Indian government addressed the Onges by rehabilitating them in Little Andaman; reserves were also created for the Jarawas.

According to Das, in addressing contact with the communities, there are biological, social and psychological factors that come to play. It is well known that biologically since they are not vaccinated, the communities are vulnerable to simple infections like flu which can wipe them all out. Rehabilitation can displace them sociologically from their habitat and lifestyles and cause psychological displacement as well.

The experiment with the Onges has not worked very well, but the Jarawa model of creating a reserve has fared better. In fact, there are special wards for the Jarawas in the civil hospitals which remain out of bounds for others, and help is provided when the community reaches out. It is also observed that with time, there is now a population of a mixed race among the Onges and in some cases among Jarawas

Unlike the indigenous communities of the Amazon in Peru and Brazil, the Sentinelese do not face conflict concerning land, resources, and territory. The South American communities have faced aggression from loggers and drug traffickers, who have not hesitated to kill them. Recently a non-contactable community made contact and communicated how drug traffickers had exterminated many of their fellowmen.

Apart from protecting them from invasions of tourists, adventure-seekers, and missionaries, the Sentinelese are confronted with the effects of climate change and the degradation of their habitats. “There need to be ways to replenish habitats and address the health requirements of the Sentinelese,” says Das. One could use mixed-race individuals who are physically and even by way of rituals, beliefs and languages similar to the Sentinels and hence may prove to be useful for trust building. Their help could seek to address issues related to health.” Seed bombing or aerial reforestation could be a way to replenish forests. It is a technique of throwing protected seed-balls that germinate in the rains.

These islands have the largest and rich diverse stretch of coral cover in India. The coral reefs provide food and are also considered the medicine chest of the sea. The life of the coastal communities around the world is intricately woven around these reefs. After the 2004 tsunami, there was both coastal damage and a tectonic uplift. In fact, coral reefs that were submerged are exposed, lagoons have vanished, resulting in loss of fishing grounds.

Also Read: Centre Ignored ST Panel Advice on Protecting Vulnerable Andaman Tribes

The international collaborative program CORDIO (Coral Reef Degradation in the Indian Ocean), a collaborative program involving researchers in eleven countries in the central and western Indian Ocean, estimate that the uplifted North Sentinel Island reefs are unlikely to survive. They are too high for the high tide to reach them or submerged too shallowly to tolerate the increased intensity of sunlight.

Engagement with marine ecologists and a more intensified policy could devise ways to support the ecosystem of the Sentinelese. Such programmes of replenishing habitats of the forests and oceans, along with strict rules of no contact, could ensure that such communities who represent a unique civilisational and natural heritage can continue to live with dignity and are provided their space and freedom of choice.

Navina Jafa is vice-president of Centre for New Perspectives, a think tank that works on intangible heritage, traditional knowledge through research and pilot programs for sustainable development.

Annapurna Devi, the Legendary Musician and Guru

Despite being a recluse, Annapurna Devi’s legacy as a guru will live on.

Annapurna Devi, the legendary musician and teacher who passed away a few days ago, was known for being Pandit Ravi Shankar’s first wife, a recluse and the guru of great musicians like Hari Prasad Chaurasia and Nikhil Banerjee among several others. Her personal story – she was considered a more accomplished player of the sitar and surbahar than Ravi Shankar – became the inspiration for the iconic film Abhimaan starring Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bhaduri.

Annapurna Devi was representative of the culture established by her father Allauddin Khan. She has left a legacy which manifests the true idiom of being a guru and illustrates what the concept of purity in the journey of music is.

Her life and work represents a complex symbolism. For the last five decades or more, Annapurna Devi lived the life of a recluse. Though she seldom met anyone, she was committed to imparting her knowledge to select students. The door of her apartment in Akash Ganga, Mumbai had a simple message – ring the bell thrice, and if no one answers, leave your message or card. Her marriage to a man who thrived on worldly acclaim and success was in complete contrast to her inner growth of learning under the tutelage of her father which was pure, ethical, giving, stark and demanding. Her brother, renowned sarod player Ali Akbar Khan, said if there was any kind of measurement with which one could assess his father’s legacy between his three star pupils, Annapurna scored the highest, he himself second and Ravi Shankar last.

Also read: Award-Winning Kashmir Artist Forsakes Craft, Drives Autorickshaw to Survive

While Annapurna Devi’s pursuit of music remained pure to the end, her life was painfully defined by the petty behaviour of Ravi Shankar, her separation from him, and the death of their only son. Abandoned by her husband, young Annapurna took to teaching for a few years at the National Centre for Performing Arts, which she left when it moved from her building to Nariman Point. She lived on meagre means, cooking and warming water on a kerosene stove. It was her second husband, management guru Roosikumar Pandya, who came to her rescue. Always laughing and jovial, he organised her investments, which not only left her comfortable until the end but allowed Nitayanand Haldipur –  a retired musician from All India Radio who became her caregiver after Pandya’s death in 2013 – and other students to set up the Annapurna Foundation, a centre for the free learning of music. Haldipur follows Annapurna Devi’s practice of always feeding their students.

The birth of ‘Devi Ma’

Annapurna was addressed as ‘Ma’ by none other than her guru and father Allauddin Khan, the court musician of the maharaja of Maihar, Madhya Pradesh. It was Maharaja Baijnath Singh who gave her a Hindu name. Interestingly, Maihar is a prominent Shaktipeeth of Shardha Devi. It is believed that it here that the devi’s necklace (Mai-har) fell. Annapurna as a metaphoric devi can be viewed as Shardha, whom the Adi Shankaracharya came to call the goddess of learning and knowledge – Saraswati. Annapurna (the devi of nourishment) proved her mettle; her natural comprehension of sound and music motivated her father to teach her what he knew.

Once Khan, in a light moment, said, suppose she performed and the audience reacted by throwing tomatoes. Annapurna replied that if her contemplation was so shallow, she would gladly accept their reprimand even if it were raining eggs. Khan laughed and patted her head.

When Khan formally began to teach her the sitar, he did not permit her to listen to her other two classmates, brother Ali Akbar Khan or Ravi Shankar. She said that her brother and Ravi Shankar played so well that she was often drawn to listen to them, but her guru’s reasoning was that in the learning period, the focus is on internalisation. By listening to others, there was a chance of being influenced by their journey in music.

Also read: Those Who Talk of Plagiarism in Carnatic Music Know Not About the Tradition

Annapurna Devi represents the ideal metaphor of a guru. Most gurus of classical dance and music are also very much part of the performing world. Annapurna’s own tragic journey in the world led her to withdraw and nurture her knowledge through her practice, lifestyle and teaching. Khan’s training of music was a path towards interiority that demanded the devotion and determination of a sadhaka. “Every day, she stood in front of the photograph of her guru with folded hands and prayed that that day be in service to contemplate the path of purity of music,” Haldipur said.

Her father gauged her commitment and allowed her to play the revered surbahar instrument, a slightly varied form of the old instrument called the been. “Baba believed that only she was capable of carrying on the legacy of his revered guru the great Wazir Khan of Rampur. Not that she did not play the sitar. She would often say, that the surbahar is an instrument of intensity, and yet allowed a playground for innovation. That sadhaka is about exploring stillness. That the concept of sadhaks is ‘sa’ – yearning, ‘dha’ – retaining essence, ‘ka’ – pursuit of excellence. Performance, if not meditated, could pull an artist away from that focus. She said that play for the one – the only one and Baba said ‘Ek saadhe sab saadhe’ – aim for one and will find plenty, aim for all and you come away empty,” said Haldipur.

Her life was defined by a single-mindedness; she was a self-respecting pilgrim who stood above others in her silence. “She always washed her own clothes and incorporated a unique link to nature with kindness. Ma taught by singing, yes Shardha resided in her throat, says Haldipur. “Once I was very tired and did not want to come for my lesson but duty compelled me to. In my mind, I prayed that Guru Ma would notice my fatigue and ask me to go back home. But she did nothing of the sort. After I played my flute for five minutes, she remarked that I looked tired, and sitting down taught me the aaroh (ascending) and avroh (descending) musical scale of Raag Maaj Khamaj, a raga invented by her father. Guru Ma made me play for nothing less than two and a half hours, after which she asked how I was feeling. It was unbelievable, but I felt totally rejuvenated and energised. She smiled and shared with me that though the raga was meant for relaxing, it is only when there is purity of intent that the effect comes. Ma fed pigeons and crows. She recognised each bird and described their idiosyncrasies. Towards the end, I took to feeding the crows. Once, she called out and asked, ‘Did you feed that crow less food?’ I responded, ‘Yes, a bit less’. She said, ‘He is outside my window complaining!’”

Annapurna Devi was known to practice the surbahar in the middle of the night for hours, and once she finished her musical meditation it was said that the house was filled with the perfume of roses – such was her fire, purity and commitment towards music. She matured with time, more beautiful and more powerful. In recent months, she became weak and stopped teaching, saying that her music appeared blurred and she might end up teaching something wrong.

Such was the purity of her commitment to the idea of knowledge and essence of a guru, that after her father she respected Ravi Shankar. I suppose she meant not the person, but the disciple whom she assessed was true to the legacy he inherited and to his guru.

Annapurna Devi did not follow Islamic rituals, in fact she was not buried but cremated. When she was a young girl, Khan employed a maulvi to teach her the Quran, but unfortunately, the teacher came wearing stinking clothes which finally led to the end of her lessons. However, according to Haldipur, “A few months ago, when she was bedridden, unexpectedly a couple of sophisticated Muslim women came to visit. Ma surprisingly agreed to meet them. They asked whether she knew the Quran, to which Ma said no. They went onto recite a few verses, but Ma astonishingly recited along with them, later laughingly admitting that she remembered the few lessons she learned in her childhood.”

The material world of performance and glamour raised Ravi Shanker to high platforms. Ironically, it will be the tortured Annapurna Devi, perhaps, who will ultimately be revered.

This article is based on interviews with Nitayanad Haldipur.

Navina Jafa, a kathak artist and scholar, is vice president of the Centre for New Perspectives. 

Heritage Monuments Need Preservation and Management Policies Before Adoption

The ‘Adopt a Heritage’ scheme by the tourism ministry is ambitious, poorly conceived and done in haste. One way to overcome this is to first address cultural heritage instead of tourism-related issues.

Much has been said both against and in defence of the recently launched Adopt a Heritage scheme by the Ministry of Tourism in partnership with the Ministry of Culture, Archaeological Survey of India and a fourth party called Monument Mitra (in the form of private entities). This programme addresses issues related to heritage that are internationally defined as tourism and visitor management. The UNESCO World Heritage Centre in January 2018 discussed tourism strategies, planning and management frameworks to protect heritage environments, engaging broad sets of stakeholders and empowering local communities.

Similar initiatives by governments motivate various civil society groups to participate and increase public ownership. The criticism by many in India is not about corporate participation but that the very content (heritage) is in disorder, and unless its management is carefully worked out, the entire scheme of Adopt a Heritage is like putting the cart before the horse. And though the privatisation of the management of heritage sites has happened before, is it not time to learn from the past to create a present to ensure a healthier future?

The gaps and where to start

India has no cultural policy because of the disjointed manner in which the issue is addressed. For example, the intangible cultural heritage of acrobatic performance is perceived as a circus art and is addressed by the Ministry of Sports. While tangible heritage such as monuments come under the Ministry of Culture, the very skills, processes and crafts that create the buildings come under the Ministry of Textiles. Another anomaly is that while heritage (monochromed as built monuments) is on the state list, tourism does not feature in the state, Union or concurrent list.

As a result, the present scheme has led to resentment from the BJP government of Goa. Goa archives minister Vijay Sardesai has said, “Monuments, including Basilica of Bom Jesus, have been listed for adoption by private players. The Goa government is completely in dark. …It is not just a place of cultural importance but also has religious significance. …Experience with Delhi (the Central government) has been that they come with a small thing and then they take over your whole asset.”

Hiatus in the scheme

The tourism scheme is not merely of an ambitious scale (100 monuments for adoption) in an untried area but has been done in haste and is poorly conceived. To begin with, the apex body – the Oversight and Vision Committee – comprises three generalist bureaucrats and only one representative from a cultural organisation – the director general, ASI (not necessarily a specialist, often an IAS official). In a frenzy to increase footfall at heritage sites, the government has gone into the scheme without adequate preparation or consultation with subject experts. No monument or site lives in isolation, it is a part of a larger ecology of geographically and culturally sensitive zones. It is not for generalists to address cultural heritage, but subject specialists without whose participation the cultural heritage framework and tourism management will remain faulty.

The action timeline given in the minutes of the first meeting of the Oversight and Vision committee (October 5, 2017) reads – the shortlisting of proposed Monument Mitra is to be done within a week of the advertised Expression of Interest that the party will get two weeks to furnish the Vision Bids. (The vision statement produced by any Mitra is crucial – the two week period is inadequate for each proposed corporate to create a detailed timeline and exact proposed action plan for the adoption period and thereafter.) Within a week the MOU will be signed with the Mitra after which they will be granted the No Objection Certificate within five days. The site then will be handed over within a week of approval by the Government. Bang-bang, done.

The documents fail to communicate the importance of using local resources and skills in the creation of amenities, or any reference to empowerment and involvement of local communities, local state government bodies and even the environment in which the site is situated. The scheme is repeating the mistake made in the case of the Taj, which is isolated from the cultural geography of Agra city. It does not invite the Mitras to address better amenities in and for the environment in which the heritage sites exists. The disjunction between the Taj and the historic unorganised and delinked city has increased with the coming of the Yamuna Expressway and has resulted in the loss of a colossal number of tourists who do not want to engage with the culturally rich city of which the monument is an integral part.

In the hurry to execute the scheme, much has been overlooked. In most regions in India, tourism is seasonal, and the impact of uncontrolled tourism can unleash disequilibrium. The question is about creating sustainability for local people and environments for the rest of the year. An important instance is the geopolitically delicate case-study of the Pangong Tso lake of Ladakh, which, after the film 3 Idiots, has seen an astounding rise in the number of tourists. This has adversely impactied the Changthang Wildlife Sanctuary (which is close to the lake) – tourists, for example, have been throwing plastic littering the environment and are feeding animals unsuitable food.

It is also for reasons such as this that the alert local communities in Kaziranga National Park in Assam have resented the scheme. For several years, there has been pressure by the government for communities living inside the sanctuary to move out. Some private players to go along with the initiative have engaged with local communities in conserving habitats and animals. The most inclusive has been by the Krishak Mukti Sangram Orchid and Biodiversity Park inside the sanctuary itself. The declaration to include four sites as part of the adopt a monument has been resented by KMSS and other organisations such as the All Assam Student Union who are of the view that if the ASI and other government entities are unable to manage the heritage sites they should be handed not to private parties but to the people themselves. The Biodiversity park is a success story of such an initiative.

Heritage interpretation as conservation

A significant part of the scheme which needs to be readdressed is handing over to the Mitra the interpretation comprising audio-visual guides, light-sound shows and other tourism material. The Heritage Council, New South Wales in its Heritage Interpretation Policy states that interpretation is an integral part of conservation that constitutes management of heritage sites and their environments. It is fundamental to an ongoing process of research and analysis of constantly changing heritage landscapes. Interpretation allows meaningful engagement and sense of public ownership, and is not only about recounting histories. It is about curating experiences and displays that engage with multiple perspectives of specialised knowledge and dynamic realities of the concerned heritage ecology. India has a host of experienced professionals who need to be engaged in the scheme. The challenge for Mitras will be to organise all-inclusive tourism and visitor management facilities and experiences which address disparate categories of visitors.

In Khajuraho (also up for adoption) there is a stunning sculpture titled ‘Homage to the Unknown Sculptor of Khajuraho’. This should make us think about the issue of branding. The idea of putting names is not a part of ancient Indian culture, since association with heritage is perceived as an offering, an obliteration of identity and desh-seva.

Homage to the Unknown Sculptor of Khajuraho.

Some solutions

Frameworks of cultural heritage have to be first addressed instead of tourism-related issues. Several experts have suggested that a pilot be launched at a non-World Heritage Site; but since the scheme has moved forward, it might be best to see how the present issue can be addressed. The government must insist on engaging professional teams in not all but one pilot programme. Without any cultural policy or any institute/department of cultural management, we cannot afford to play with a legacy of meant to be preserved for posterity. There is an immediate need to revamp the overview committee and engage professional consultants working on various aspects of heritage.

Strategies for factoring in the involvement of Mitras to address not just sites but entire cultural geographies of sites/monuments need to be evolved as part of the scheme. Going by the precedence of the government of India, usually project proposals, in this case the vision document (which is not yet public) surely must be greatly detailed. They must entail timelines, involvement of a larger number of stakeholders, detailing building cultural experiences of different levels so that all visitors are able to benefit from the new scheme. However, the vision documents must give priority to use local material and traditional skills in the creation of the amenities. The indemnity clause needs to be revised since the private party cannot be let off if they do damage to the sites while creating public displays or amenities.

To assist greater impact of the work done by the proposed Mitras, the government must invest in the creation of a heritage police so that visitors can view all parts of heritage site (today, three-fourths of the Red Fort and Agra Fort are closed to common visitors.)

And finally, now that the scheme is deliberated, it is important to use this as a starting point to reorder ways to address the colossal capital of heritage resources of India by developing a sound cultural policy which feeds the goals of sustainable development of local communities and preservation of environments and to establish academic facilities of cultural management. The initiative has indeed opened opportunities but it remains to be seen whether the much-debated scheme of Khandhar Anathalaya (Adoption Centre of Ruined Monuments) is transparently converted into positive action to provide a healthy performed democratic heritage for posterity.

Navina Jafa, a kathak artist and scholar, is vice president of the Centre for New Perspectives. The above article is an edited version of an excerpt from her forthcoming book Moving Histories: World of Kathak Dance in Cities.

The Depth of Girija Devi’s Fluid Notes Will Continue to Anchor the Memory of Banaras

The energy that buoyed Girja Devi’s creativity as well as her magical execution of thumri and khayal emerged out of the mehfils.

There she was, seated in a boat on the Ganga on a moonlit night in Banaras, wearing a tanchoi sari, her silvery hair plaited in her trademark style, and her diamond nose-pin shimmering like a star. The notes of Girija Devi’s thumri echoed across the water to become a longing sigh of the Banaras that once was.

Most obituaries of Girija Devi have mentioned her association with the genre of thumri singing. They have referred to her as being the tradition bearer of the style of purabiya ang (the eastern style), which implies not only the languages of eastern Uttar Pradesh and Bihar but also the cultural ethos from where it materialised.

Girija Devi was one in a long line of luminaries who exemplified the idea of ‘Banarasi’ or purabiya ang, along with the likes of Kishan Maharaj (tabla), Bismillah Khan (shehnai), Hunuman Misr (sarangi), Anand Krishnadev (art historian), Sitara Devi (kathak), Dr. Bhanu Shanker Mehta (patron of art and intellectual), and many others. The era characterised by these personalities boasted a sensual mystique that is on the wane.

Still from the documentary, Girija Devi: A Lifetime in Music by Madhu Chandra, Debapriya Adhikary and Samanwaya Sarkar

Most obituaries of Girija Devi have mentioned her association with the genre of thumri singing. Credit: Still from the documentary Girija Devi: A Lifetime in Music by Madhu Chandra, Debapriya Adhikary and Samanwaya Sarkar

The energy that buoyed Girija Devi’s creativity as well as her magical execution of thumri and khayal emerged out of the mehfils (cultural gatherings) that marked the social calendars of patrons comprising landlords, traders, professionals and intellectuals. In fact, it would not be wrong to say that the mehfil was intrinsic to the social life of all classes of people in Banaras. Mehfils celebrating the seasonal cycle, such as the spring mehfils celebrating hori, gulab bari and budwa mangal, were an important part of life. Girija Devi was a repository of compositions sung in these gatherings and captured the cultural essence inherent in the thumri purabiya ang which includes compositions such as jhoola, kajri, chaiti and hori-dhamar. 

She once told me in an interview, “…while the hori-dhamar compositions capture the inherent flirtation of the idea of Lord Krishna where the performing artist paints, colours and brings out the emotion of love that rejoices in gay abandon, the rendering of chaiti brings out the sensual stretch (angdai), the yawn communicating the longing that sets in with  spring… Then comes the blistering summer followed by the relief of the rains, and the repertoire of songs comprising  jhoola ka tek (songs of swings),  jhumar and kajri celebrate reunited love…and revitalised energy…”

Her descriptions brought to mind what cultural historian Bhanu Shanker Mehta has written about the cultural gatherings organised in the bageechas (orchards) of the elite in the suburbs of Banaras. While these were usually stag parties for all seasons, women too had their own mehfils. However, the popularity of women artists was more evident in the stag parties. For the guests, narrates Mehta, “there were arrangements for bathing, eating, sleeping and enjoyment…. they bathed and readied themselves for the celebration….The participants then got down to a  group activity of making thandai and creating the bhang gola, which was worshipped before it was served to the audience. Foods matched the season. For example, chuda matar (puffed-flat rice with green peas) was the favourite food of the winter mehfils.”

Also read: Girija Devi Immortalised Both the Thumri and Herself

Many of these cultural gatherings were inspired by the mystique of Lucknow’s nawabi culture. For instance, the spring mehfil called gulab bari (gathering of roses), organised at the time of Holi, followed the custom set in the 18th century by Mir Rustam Ali, governor of the Nawabs of Lucknow in Varanasi.

Credit: Still from the documentary, Girija Devi: A Lifetime in Music by Madhu Chandra, Debapriya Adhikary and Samanwaya Sarkar

Girija Devi epitomised an era gone by. Credit: Still from the documentary Girija Devi: A Lifetime in Music by Madhu Chandra, Debapriya Adhikary and Samanwaya Sarkar

For the festivity of gulab bari, a platform decorated with flower pots full of blooms was erected for the artiste. For the duration of the performance, large baskets of pink perfumed roses were continually showered both on the audience and the artist. The audience sat on thin mattresses clothed with white sheets, with rose petals strewn around them. The shamiyana that enclosed the gathering was decorated with fancy chandeliers made of light pink glass to enhance the effect of roses, and there was a continuous sprinkling of rose water on the audience as they gave themselves up to the lilting words and bhava of classical and semi-classical songs. The hori and chaiti performed by the women artists would envelop the audience in a sensuous reverie. The entire atmosphere was one of intoxication.

Also read: Listen: Mourning ‘Queen of Thumri’ Girija Devi’s Demise

The mehfils that heralded the rainy season, when the menfolk returned home from their travels to sow crops, were defined by songs replete with images that were erotic and associated with fertility symbols. Called jhumar ka tek, the mehfils of the rain had a specific natural setting. The city was surrounded by lush green vegetation, small waterfalls, ponds and rivulets and it was in this setting that sai-ill (colloquial way of saying sair, or outing) were organised in the orchards of the city elite. Talented women artists and their musicians formed the central attraction of these men-only parties.

The compositions that were sung in these gatherings were attuned to the rainy season – the kajri, a semi-classical musical genre which is derived from kajra, or kohl, is overloaded with sensual images of maidens longing for their lovers in the backdrop of rain-clouds as dark as kohl, with the peacock’s call reminding them of their pining state.

Credit: Still from the documentary, Girija Devi: A Lifetime in Music by Madhu Chandra, Debapriya Adhikary and Samanwaya Sarkar

Girija Devi. Credit: Still from the documentary Girija Devi: A Lifetime in Music by Madhu Chandra, Debapriya Adhikary and Samanwaya Sarkar

The jhoola too are full of the imagery of sensual pleasures. The women artists would sit on swings hung from trees, and perform. There is a description of the scene by a patron: “Oh! The season of kajri and sai-ils organised by Babu Govardhandas Gujarati and Babu Vrindavandas in their beautiful gardens with fountains, fruiting and flowering trees. While the swings decorated with mango leaves hung on mango trees, the talented singing ladies sat on them and sang in gay abandon, with the shehnai player standing nearby. The entire gathering would fall into a trance. The favourite foods were dal baati and kheer poorie. Days followed nights as these mehfils lasted three to four days. Bhaang was freely consumed, song upon song was sung and improvised, some new compositions…”

Yes, Girija Devi epitomised an era gone by. As the Ganga flows, one can hear her singing rangi sari gulabi chunariya re, mohe maare nazriya sawariya re (as I colour my sari with roses, my beloved shoots a longing glance at me). One knows that the depth of her fluid notes will continue to anchor the effulgent memory of Banaras, of Anandvan, the garden of delight. That is Girija Devi’s gift to her rasikas.

Navina Jafa, a kathak artist and scholar, is vice president of the Centre for New Perspectives. The above article is an edited version of an excerpt from her forthcoming book Moving Histories: World of Kathak Dance in Cities.