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The piece below is from India Ink, NY Times, today (26 03 2012)


VISIONS OF INDIA DANCING AND DANCING AND DANCING
Nrityagram Dance and Other Indian Troupes in New York

Briana Blasko for The New York Times
The Gotipua Dance Ensemble, a troupe of boy dancers, in the eastern state of 
Orissa, India. More Photos »

By ALASTAIR MACAULAY
Published: March 25, 2012

When an illustrious Indian dance company performs in New York, as the 
Nrityagram Dance Ensemble did at the Joyce Theater last week, we can take both 
pleasure and instruction from it. Music and dance operate in thrilling 
proximity; the visual sensuousness is in many ways exceptional; the levels of 
technical achievement and stylistic polish are high. Best of all we’re given a 
window into a culture far from our own.

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Dance in India




The Erasing Borders festival of Indian dance runs from April 9 to 15 at 
locations in New York City;iacc.us.com.-bhubansoutheastern state of Andhra 
Pradesh.
In visiting India last month my main aim was not to see dance performances but 
the setting from which Indian dance derives. The great temples of the southern 
state of Tamil Nadu and in Orissa were all I had hoped: temples as singular but 
multifaceted worlds, most of them still in intense daily use and studded with 
imagery of bodies in motion. Dance forms all over Southeast Asia stem from 
theNatya Shastra, the treatise on the performing arts written between 200 B.C. 
and A.D. 200; more than 100 of its dance positions are illustrated in a 
centuries-old bas relief at the temple at Chidambaram, a number of which are 
precisely the same as those we see in some Indian classical forms today.
When I watched the Nrityagram performance last week, many of these positions 
fell into place in my mind in a way they had not early in my visit to India, 
when I saw the same choreography in rehearsal. Henceforth it will be 
interesting to recognize them with other Indian dancers.
In Orissa, while the devadasis (female temple artists, both musicians and 
dancers) used to perform within the temples, a version of their art was also 
practiced outside the precincts by the gotipuas, boys who were trained to dance 
female Odissi roles before puberty. Most of us would assume that theirs too has 
become a bygone art; but no. I saw two gotipua troupes rehearse on successive 
days.
They grow their hair long (pulled back in ponytails when I saw them); their 
training brings with it board, lodging and nondance education. (A number of 
them stay with the Odissi art in adult life, as musicians, dancers and 
teachers.) Their applause-winning specialty (not evidently feminine) consists 
of acrobatic feats and tableaus.
What impressed me more, however, was the boys’ youthful mastery of the basics 
of Odissi style. Hardly had they made their processional entrance, in single 
file, than in unison they demonstrated a tribhanga — a celebrated Odissi S-bend 
position in which dancers create a series of upward curves at knee, torso and 
shoulder — and contrasted it with the sculpturally square position called 
chowk, all amid a swaying dance of ritual invocation.
These and other features make it tempting to declare that the traditions of 
Indian dance are in good health. When I got off the plane in Bhubaneswar, 
Orissa’s capital city, I was gratified to see that the main poster image for 
the state featured Odissi dancing. Dance and religion are still vitally 
connected. While in Tamil Nadu I attended the celebration ofShivaratri, the 
night when Shiva, god and dancer, is honored with open-air dance festivals at 
the temples of both Chidambaram and Thanjavur, each running for five nights. 
Watching the marathon of dance I felt honored to attend and in awe of a culture 
where dance and worship fluently interlock.
But there are ways in which it seems obvious that the virtues of Indian 
classical dance are threatened. Though I saw much beautiful work in rehearsal, 
much of it is vitiated by the practices that surround live performance, 
especially at the festivals. I attended four programs at three different dance 
festivals: many of their features were too dismaying to pass without comment.
When Indian dancers use taped music in the West, I’ve always assumed it is only 
because the economics of global travel made live music prohibitive. But at 
Thanjavur and at Bhubaneswar taped music was the norm. Worse, at those and at 
Chidambaram the music was carelessly overamplified. You don’t need to know much 
about Indian dance to recognize that you should sometimes hear the slap of the 
soles of the dancers’ feet on the floor and the jingling of their ankle bells. 
And yet it was impossible to hear any such thing.
More frustratingly, you frequently couldn’t even see the feet. Why? Because it 
is the norm for a dozen or more photographers to be lined along the footlights, 
barring the general audience’s view. Meanwhile it’s standard for members of the 
audience to use cellphones during performances. Even members of the press took 
calls and sometimes texted while there was dancing onstage.
More problematic, there was a sense that classical dance is being adapted for 
tourism. Too many of the dances I saw in performances seemed to have been 
packaged like son-et-lumière entertainments. Some Indian dancers later told me 
that they now prefer to perform abroad because the local conditions are so 
irksome.
Within a culture changing as drastically as that of India today, how will the 
Indian classical dance forms adapt? I hope to return to find out. In Chennai I 
visited the celebrated dance school of Kalakshetra, which specializes in 
Bharata Natyam, Tamil Nadu’s own classical dance idiom. Five minutes of 
watching a second-year group class practice pure dance demonstrated to me how 
taxing but exhilarating it can be; a fourth-year class showed how absorbing the 
more expressional form, Abhinaya, can be.
A young man in the first class and a young woman in the second struck me as 
outstanding. Their stylistic assurance gave me the impression that Bharata 
Natyam was their inheritance, but I was mistaken. The man was from a Tamil Nadu 
folk-dancing family of a completely different idiom; the woman was American, of 
a family of Sri Lankan extraction. Yet here they were, dancing the style they 
had recently acquired as if it were in their DNA. This new generation’s 
commitment to the classical genres of India gives hope that they are well set 
to endure.

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