ON September 1 in New Delhi, Kathak dancer Aditi Mangaldas and her company, Drishtikon, performed new work that each member of the company had personally choreographed. Amidst all the national chaos that’s going on, it may not seem a big deal, but in dance terms it was a significant step. Flashback to last Saturday, to a cool, white basement studio in South Delhi’s Saket. One wall, of course, is mirrored, while the far corner is an intriguing installation of costume and prop trunks, above which posters of Aditi’s engagements let on that she’s danced all over the world, notably two years running at the Edinburgh Festival. Two women and two men in their 20s, dressed casually, while talented tabalchi Yogesh Gangani of Kathak Kendra, who’s performed with Drishtikon for over 11 years, beats an exploratory tattoo. Aditi, a tiny quicksilver presence, rapidly revises the sequence of lighting for each item (devised by Narayan Chouhan, an NSD alumnus who’s been the stage manager for over seven years). Rehearsal begins with a clap and a shout. First off is tall Rohit, whose face wears a deceptive Buddha-like calm. In 11 minutes, he’s sizzled up the air duelling with Yogesh’s tabla. The rhythms are Kathak, but the movements? Rohit slaps his body, taps his heels, thumps up a storm on a wooden board. This is a piece he has presented before (Ta) as part of a larger Drishtikon ensemble, exploring the ‘texture of sound’ with pizzazz and panache. It’s Hemant Kumar Kalita’s turn next. Back home in Guwahati, when he was little, his father exposed him to the Big Six classical styles. ‘‘It’s the natural, simple character of Kathak that attracted me as a man,’’ confides Hemant. ‘‘I felt the other styles were too girly for me. But it’s with Aditi Didi that I can explore myself further as a contemporary dancer.’’ Hemant’s piece is a personal statement: As I discover dance, that traces, to music he’s composed himself, his realisation of his own space and the ways he can energise it. Pooja Srivastava’s turn, next. Superbly articulate, she says, ‘‘I’m from a typical traditional Kayasth family. Nobody could ever have dreamt that a daughter of the house would be a performing artist!’’ Trained in Kathak like the others, her nine minute piece is called Disclosure. It is a slow, intense, fluid unfolding of feeling through supple yogic movement. Pooja’s taken a portion of a dhrupad alap from Vanraj Bhatia’s Meditation tape to depict the opening of the mind to its own potential.As the others, too, go through their paces, the difference is striking. In traditional classical dance, the dance is offered in worship to a deity. But these dancers are using the grammar of Kathak and yoga to explore personal questions of identity. It is ‘contemporary Indian’ without being copycat contemporary Western, using Indian elements in terms of Indian life today. ‘And why not,’’ demands Aditi. ‘‘A French dancer asked us, why should I come to India to see contemporary dance? She was implying that anything contemporary in India apes the West. But contemporary to me is MY contemporary! It’s in my context. I am a Kathak dancer in modern India. My art may be age-old, but I bring a contemporary mind to it. Our dances are not museum pieces, they’re danced by modern people,’’ she adds. Her troupe nods fiercely in accord. They sustain themselves away from home by teaching dance at schools. ‘‘It’s a career choice,’’ they affirm. ‘‘If a person is sincere, willing to work hard and has talent, the rewards will come!’’
