Seen,Not Heard

On Wednesday,the setting at Kamani Auditorium seemed perfect,with tall towering columns on the sides,echoing Mughal architecture. Narayan opened the piece by narrating the basic story. The consistency of the production lay in two things — Pandit Jwala Prasad’s music and Narayan’s presence on the stage. Zakia Zaheer,grand daughter of Urdu poet Haali,had scripted the show. The lighting by RK Dhingra,was brilliant. As for the supporting dancers,the female parts lacked finesse though the male dancers were emotionally charged,with gats and tihaais well-coordinated. Robust and diverse,the men commanded immense attention. They also received the maximum applause.

Narayan didn’t use any rhythmic gimmickery,her expressions were as phenomenal as her pirouettes. While her interpretative ability dominated the performance,we waited for power,the intensified movement. This was to be translated through ghungroos; Narayan didn’t use any.

The arts are and should not be bound by barriers (contemporary dancers do perform without ghungroos). But in traditional kathak,where footwork matched intricate tabla bols,it was rather odd for Narayan to perform without ghungroos. The virtuosity of her footwork could only be seen,not heard. It may be a matter of sacredness. For purists,it was about essentiality. Barring her portions of narrations,her dance sections — against the backdrop of projections of Mughal forts and palaces — required ghungroos. The narrative too needed tightening.