The Crescent In Kathak

Contentious Issues
The potentially contentious issue is Khanam’s work-in-progress, a concert she will present in Delhi in August or September, ‘‘whenever a hall is available’’. Khanam plans to begin with the Kalma (the opening lines of the Koran Sharief): Bismillah-ur Rahman ur-Rahim (In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful). She plans to follow this uplifting invocation with six items that showcase the Persian heritage of Kathak.

‘‘Earlier, Kathak was based on the Hindu devotional tradition of the Raas Leela, which had great beauty and depth of soul, but was also rustic in style. With the courtly influence of Islam, a certain Persian elegance came into Kathak technique — husn ki gat, ada ke gat, aanchal ki andaaz, pair ki nikaas, andaaz-e-nigah (gait of beauty, gait of style, play of the veil, style of walking away, eye-work). But you cannot separate these things artificially as Hindu and Muslim. The very character of Islam is different in India, it has acquired the scent of this soil. For instance, I could do ‘Shri Ganesh’ (the invocation) in jhaptaal, either in an old Hindu composition or, in the same tune, with words by Amir Khusro: Allah hi Allah, zilleshan Allah/Tu rahim, tu karim, tu ghaffar tu sattar. To my knowledge, the latter has never been danced before.’’

Khanam is well aware that the Sufi kalam is ‘‘hidden

Islam’’ as distinct from exoteric Islam which is the Koran Sharief and the Hadees (traditions of

the Prophet). However, she clarifies, ‘‘There is a division in Islam over the worship of saints at dargahs and ziyarats. The purists say that these are dead people, so how can they intercede for the living? But there is a great body of devout Muslims which believes that these saints are realised souls who are dear to God and close to Him.’’

Walking the Talk
Khanam is emphatic that ‘‘merely performing endless chakkars, as today’s fashion is, cannot be an ‘interpretation’ of tassawwuf (Sufism)’’. Instead, the dancer must convey the emotional force of these beliefs through the language of Kathak (bhav bataana). She cites a Persian verse by the Sufi Khwaja Usman Haruni: Na mi daanam ke akhir chun dame deedar mi raqsam/ Magar naazam bai zauqe peshe yaar mi raqbam (I do not know why a glimpse of You makes me dance/ But I take pride in the fact that my love for You makes me dance). ‘‘The scope of this verse turns on the one word ‘but’,’’ sparkles Khanam. ‘‘A classical dancer can show so much: public disapproval of the love-mad Sufi, how they chase him away with stones, perhaps torture him and try to hang him, and yet he dances on, convinced of God’s love. The whole drama of human longing is hidden in that little word and a classical dancer can convey, oh, 50 maybe a 100 ways of depicting the situation — for up to several hours of abhinaya!’’ Khanam is fairly bouncing in her seat now, with the joyous quality that marks her onstage, backbrace forgotten.

Gurus and God
‘‘It’s been a long evolution towards this theme!’’ reveals Khanam. ‘‘I was born in Bihar, in Muzaffurpur, to very simple parents, who were fairly devout. When I was five my mother put me on to Hindustani vocal. Then one day, coming home from the bazaar, I heard Mohammed Rafi’s voice from a shop radio, singing Man tarpat Hari darshan ko aaj from Baiju Bawra. It was like an electric shock. I desperately wanted to dance to it.’’

Khanam’s parents moved to Delhi the next year and enrolled their six-year-old at Kathak Kendra. ‘‘I got distinctions in school. I always won a scholarship, never paid fees. For 12 years my life began at 4.30 am with riyaz, off to regular school, home for lunch, dance the afternoon away at Kathak Kendra, come home to more practice with a tabla master, do homework, eat dinner and sleep deep. You could say I had no childhood. But I think I won a weird kind of innocence, of total absorption in Kathak. I want to thank my mother for that — she died recently.

I want to thank my teacher Reba Vidyarthi at Kathak Kendra — how meticulously

she trained us! And how do I begin to describe the generosity of my guru, Birju Maharajji? His pet name for me was ‘Mast Ram’, I was so happy dancing. Allah made the clay, Rebaji refined me, Maharajji did the nakkashi (decoration). Now I must fill the pot with my soul. Inshallah, I will!’’