Friday, June 27, 2008

Grounded

I'm sure you have all had this experience. You meet someone who is very "successful" - they have all the trophies: a fancy degree, a great job, a fancy house, a fancy car - but when you actually try to get to know the person, you realize there is nothing there. A vacuum. A shell. Success seems to destroy some people.

I see the equivalent in dance as well. "Success" can be pretty scary and turn someone into a freak.

In Madras, during one visit, either 2001 or 2002, I turned on the TV and saw a "dance competition" - a senior dancer was the judge. She was speaking about her background and her formative influences - things like that. I remember her speaking on the same topics in the early 90s and I was surprised by the change. Then I realized that her new formative influences were very much in line with all the attention in the press given to certain styles. In other words, she was adjusting her past to take advantage of what was currently in vogue.

I see this pattern a lot among dancers - and the way they present themselves, and the way they talk about dance. It's as if they're walking on a tight-rope, constantly balancing and adjusting their stance. Emphasizing this, minimizing that. And constantly scanning for the latest trends.

Some dancers go to the limits: one time I opened the newspaper and was shocked by an advertisement for a jewellery company featuring a senior dancer. Another time, the same dancer was promoting a finance company. Goodness!

There was a time I went to Vani Mahal and saw a lovely performance. The dancer sprang to one corner of the stage in a beautiful graceful jump and sat down and began offering flowers and raising her eyes above - and directly above on the wall was a large picture of a package of Chips - the brand which was sponsoring the show. It was funny!

So these are the new patrons: potato chips and finance companies and jewellers. Someone has to be the patron and come up with the money - they always have - in 'Danike' there is a line acknowledging the Maratha king Sivaji - in 'Yemaguva' there is a similar line about the Mysore king. It is usually the fourth set in a varnam's first half, sung three times for three 'hands' and then the piece moves right on. The patron doesn't overwhelm or dominate the piece. The piece has its own dominant theme - love, longing, devotion - and then this one small space for the patron. It's very neatly done.

Is it because these are great pieces? Lesser composers and choreographers would not be able to achieve this balance. Is it because the people who created them had a connection to their own history? They are not empty cups with no memories into which you could just pour in any random thing.

Why is it that some dancers and dance-teachers, despite their talent, despite their intelligence and accomplishment - why is it that some of them are always looking over their shoulder like this - insecure, worried about their image, constantly reacting to and adjusting themselves to some invisible standard, worrying themselves over definitions and theories and the press?

This is the difference, Master was so connected to his roots and that was his only rudder or ballast.

There is this one big common thread - that runs through all the dancers he trained: you won't see any of his dancers doing advertisements or chasing this that or the other. Along with the dance they also know its context: how to perform and where to leave it.

Without ever articulating it verbally or spelling it out - we got from him this sense of boundaries and identity. What it is, and what it is not.

It's one of those things you just take for granted because it's always there - and it only hits you when you see its absence. One time in the early 90s I turned on the TV and there was a dancer wildly flapping her imaginary wings to Tchaikovsky music and collapsing on the floor shot by an imaginary arrow. It wasn't dance, not our dance, it was just like watching someone who had lost their senses. None of Master's disciples would ever end up in that state.

None of Master's students have ever fallen for gimmicks, and this is across a wide spectrum of socio-economic and cultural and educational levels. Maybe this is the most precious thing he gave us. Apart from everything else: this sense of who we are, what this is, what it means.