Has Shyness Died in a Generation of Emboldened Women?

There are way too many Bharatanatyam dancers who think their completion of an arangetram and years of training places them at a pedestal above all other dancers in their field. There’s confidence, and then there’s cocky, and there’s a fine Kancheepuram silk thread between the two.

As for me, I usually recognize when there’s room for improvement, so when my mother last week corrected my abhinaya (expression) in a piece I’m preparing for a November performance, I’ll admit I was somewhat diffident about performing the piece at all. This was because I wondered whether there was even a possibility to capture such an emotion: the shyness exhibited by a young bride when her to-be husband touches her hand for the first time.

I made several attempts at this expression as my mother repeatedly told me that my expression was far too bold and needed to look more coy. It made me wonder, however, if girls growing up in America are even capable of expressing the emotion at all. Are we perhaps too open-minded and brazen that we cannot portray the timidity expressed by a young bride on the day of her wedding?

As journalist Nita J. Kukarni writes, Indians today, girls and boys, whether living in India or not, no longer maintain the pristine reputations that perhaps their parents or grandparents once did.

“Boys and girls from even traditional families are dating, but secrecy is the name of the game…If there are any guilt pangs for this elaborate deceit, they are suppressed by the overwhelming needs of these youngsters, needs which are no longer considered immoral.”

For a generation of Indians breaking the social norms of marriage, dating and relationships that once were, is virginity and shyness around the opposite sex an obsolete concept?

It reminded me of an article by Anuradha K. Ganpati I read once on Narthaki.com about teaching young Indian-American girls of the longing a woman may feel for a king or Lord during a padam (expressive narrative) or javali (romantic) piece.

Ganpati argues that feelings of longing, love and desire are pertinent to young teenage girls:

“Can the ratisringara themes in Bharatanatyam actually apply to contemporary Los Angeles? Does not longing, disappointment, anticipation of passionate union and various aspects of love apply to contemporary teenage life in America?”

But as the mother of one of the young Californian dancers notes, “My daughter, at 15, will not reconcile to the fact that this woman is pining for her man. She finds it too ‘cheesy’ because she has been raised in America. The culture is different here, girls are much more verbal and direct here.”

Thus it is the pining, the waiting game with which young girls today can no longer relate. Because they utilize a direct approach in their own love-lives, shyness in the company of the opposite sex is a concept that’s hard to grasp.

So as the November performance approaches quickly, I’ve decided to opt for a different dance piece right now — but that is not to say that I’m going to abandon the challenge of capturing that shy expression. Perhaps today’s modern women, through deliberate and repeated practice, can portray the expression which once came naturally to women of generations past.

Saluting the Chakra: Passing Down Patriotism to Desi Youth

India's flag: saffron, white, and green, with the chakra in the center (Flickr photo by Ranjith)

Last weekend, I joined my mother for her biweekly class in Jacksonville. She spends her entire Saturday teaching young children, and normally, I’m astounded by her patience with the kids who can hardly keep their hands straight or do a proper aramandi (half-squatting position). But last Saturday, I was actually surprised at the children’s patience and maturity, because she was teaching them a patriotic piece.

Since India’s fiftieth year of independence, patriotic dances, skits and musical numbers have become increasingly prevalent at Indian cultural shows. It is the immigrants’ way of paying homage to the motherland from their new country. What’s striking is that many of these pieces are performed by second-generation youth (not even college students). It seems puzzling that a generation consisting mainly of kids born and raised in the U.S. feel it appropriate to be singing and dancing to songs such as “Maa Tujhe Salaam,” “Vande Maataram,” and “Jayati, Jayati Bharata Mata,” all which pay tribute to the mother country. How is it even possible for these kids to feel patriotic sentiments for a country that many of them have never even visited yet? At the high-school or college level it is understandable because most children have visited India at least once by this age, but at a very early age, how is patriotism for India possible?

The trend I’ve observed is that children are usually nudged into these dances by elders, and soon, they internalize these sentiments and begin to associate themselves as comfortably with the chakra as they do the stripes and stars. Sporting green, white and saffron on Aug. 15 becomes equally as important as wearing red, white and blue on the Fourth of July — but why?

Sunaina Marr Maira, author of “Desis in the House: Indian American Youth Culture in New York City,” says the nostalgia imbibed in the youth despite the presence of concrete memories is based on “recreated popular memory based on a myth of pure origins” a presumed missing link “that is historical, cultural, personal.” Of course, the music for these dances is in itself powerful and moving, and it probably adds to the feeling of patriotism and nostalgia for the mother country (Take for example A.R. Rahman’s “Vande Maataram”). Even without knowing the meaning of the lyrics, children learn to feel pride and longing for the country in which their parents grew up. Maira attributes the nostalgia to the predicated “absence [of] a cultural anchor that is both missing and missed, “[and the assumption] of an earlier time of cultural wholeness that is now at the risk of fragmentation, if not dissolution.”

Children in the diaspora, while they do not have the same attachment to the homeland as their parents do, recognize political ties with both nations, even if they are not technically citizens of both. They pay closer attention to the evening world news if/when India is mentioned. Often, when they reach college, they orchestrate volunteer efforts which somehow give back to the uneducated, impoverished, or at-risk youth of India rather than other countries. Perhaps this is also their way of fulfilling their dharma as a citizen of the world.

My own friends, who have been born and raised here in America, have told me about their rewarding experiences over summers helping the disadvantaged of India. My friend, Anushree Nakkana, a University of Florida anthropology major, recently documented the lack of educational opportunities for underprivileged children in Hyderabad. Divya Arora, a University of South Florida medical student, also made a special trip to India, to provide immunizations and medication to the impoverished.

Conversely, there are those in India saying students in India are abandoning their sentiments of patriotism, in an effort to become more Westernized. Rishabh Srivatsava on his blog, “Jai Hind: Proud to be Indian” shows disappointment toward the youth of India, and their lack of interest to bring India to the forefront of the global stage.

“They give reason that there is no infrastructure in our country, there are hardly any avenues, scope to make it big and fulfill one’s ambition. This might be true, but isn’t it our responsibility to facilitate such an environment in our country?”

So why is it that the children outside of India (at times) show more patriotism for India than the youth in the motherland, itself? Both have grown up listening to stories of the audacity (and antics) of Mohandas Gandhi, the fastidiousness of Jawaharlal Nehru, and the poetry of Rabindranath Tagore. But I think much of the desi loyalty to India stems from the understanding of the sacrifice their parents made in moving to America from their homes. The Mira Nair film based on the Jhumpa Lahiri novel, “The Namesake,” portrays this sentiment movingly. Second-generation Indian Americans ultimately realize that their parents risked losing the culture of an entire nation, the culture of several generations of ancestors, in an effort to give their children the opportunity to pursue a frontier of educational and professional possibilities. It is from there that their patriotism for India stems.

Stepping Out of the Box: Looking to Step Shows for Choreographical Inspiration

Flickr Photo by Anand Krishnamoorthi

As my co-choreographer and I wrack our brains to come up with new routines for the fall season for our team, we find ourselves facing somewhat of a choreographer’s block. Because she and I have learned in the same school and from the same teacher for 14 years now, it’s often hard as co-choreographers to come up with fresh ideas.

However, on Wednesday, the day after the annual University of Florida South Asian American Student Alliance assembly, a lunch rendezvous with a friend led me to search in new places for ideas. He had attended the assembly and had seen all of the performances presented by the various Asian student groups on campus. Aware of the roadblock my co-choreographer and I were facing, he casually mentioned how he thought some of the step routines performed by the Asian fraternities reminded him of Bharatanatyam. I nearly choked on my lunch at this statement, laughing. How could clapping, stomping, and yelling of random words and syllables look anything like the intricate foot movements, graceful hand gestures and unprecedented abhinaya (expression) which comprise the Bharatanatyam repertoire?

Yet, after a few moments of considering his statement, I clearly drew the parallel he was making.

I see how the shouting of syllables and words in a step show can be compared to the thalavadhyam uttered by the teacher during the jati (rhythmic body movements and hand gestures) portion of a Bharatanatyam dance. The syllables and words in both cases serve as instruction and accompaniment to the footwork and hand movements produced by the dancer.

Note the syllables uttered by the vocalist and the gestures of the dancer in this Bharatanatyam video (starting at :37) in comparison the to the words projected by the leader of this UF step group to determine the steppers’ movements (starting at 1:15).

While I know my friend’s suggestion to view step show videos on Youtube.com as inspiration for our own choreography was well-intended, I doubt I will be stealing any step routines just yet. I will, however, view step routines with different respect than I did before, and possibly search for inspiration in genres I had never thought of previously.

Bharatanatyam teachers in diaspora dance to a different tune: NRI teachers abandon etiquette practiced by teachers back home

Twenty years ago there was only one Bharatanatyam teacher in Gainesville.

Today, our small town has attracted two to three more gurus. Gainesville has been home to a very large and tightly-knit Indian community, and news of new dance teachers spreads quickly.

As an American-born desi I figured the healthy competition among the new group of teachers could only improve the quality and teaching standards of all the gurus equally. But what I overlooked was the potential abandonment of the ethical standards once practiced by teachers in India.

My mother, Mathura Alladi, who has been a dance teacher for several years, mentioned to me last week that some of her students have been pursued by the other teachers, and she was disgusted by their behavior. To this I casually replied that living in America, one must accept the competition as part of the job, but she explained that the “stealing” of students was not considered ethical or even acceptable by Indian standards. Teachers in India do not chase after the students of another guru. Rather, their tutelage is sought by the students who approach them.

But even flip-flopping at the student’s end is frowned upon. My mother’s own teacher in India refused to re-admit students into her school if they had even learned one dance under another teacher. Respect and loyalty for elders, family, and teachers is at the core of Indian culture, and the guru-shishya (student) bonds should not be interfered with.

My mother also explained the practical reason for adhering to a single guru: teachers, especially in America, have such varying styles that it is difficult to cross-train students who jump from one teacher to the next. It becomes too time-consuming and more difficult than teaching a student from the basics.

Bharatanatyam guru Maithily of the Bharatam Dance School in Oslo articulates the guru-shishya relationship in clear terms on her website.

“A good shishya is one who is….responsible for earning a good name for his family and guru,” she says. “In India, [gurus] are looked upon as great scholars and respected as being equal to God and parents since they impart knowledge. ”

The teacher-student relationship was so strong that students would live with their teachers for months or years at a time to learn the art.

Yet outside of India today, we see an absence of loyalty to teachers.

I’ll admit I generally play devil’s advocate when my mother brings up issues such as these, but the moment she mentioned that the practice here contradicts the ethical standards and etiqutte practiced by teachers in india, I realized her concern: the degradation of the very values the dance is meant to inculcate in the younger generation.

It is one thing for teachers to place advertisements and promote their schools to increase business, but it is an entirely different matter to chase after the students of an existing guru. Bharatanatyam has been used for years to imbibe Indian culture into the next generation of Indians, and I find it ironic and pretentious that non-resident Indian dance teachers are abandoning the very principles of teaching the dance, which hinge on the culture’s emphasis of the guru-shishya relationship. It is no surprise then that the students, in turn, pay no attention to the sanctity of the guru-shishya relationship, and switch teachers freely as well.

Why has the tandava style died?

To this day, I can’t remember whether it was a man or woman whom I saw perform as Ardhanareswara, the union of Shiva and Shakti. What I do remember is a figure on stage whose one side was covered in animal hides and the other, in a Kanchipuram silk sari, as if s/he was split exactly down the middle into two people. The Ganges flowed from the hair on one side, while jasmine flowers adorned the other. Where the movements of one side were rigid, sturdy, and deliberate, the other moved gracefully, curvaceously, and effortlessly. I remember trying hard to catch the optical illusion, the ‘trick’ behind this gimmick, but I couldn’t. The truth was, whether male or female, the dancer on stage had mastered both the masculine and feminine traits of a classical Indian dancer.

Gender roles in Indian classical dance have see-sawed from it being a predominantly male tradition to a predominantly female one. When we look at Indian dance as it has been transmitted to and through Hindus in the diaspora, I wonder why the masculine form has lost its appeal and why boys aren’t pushed to learn this dance in an effort to maintain “Indianness” as young girls are. Ultimately, Bharatanatyam’s religious origins point in the direction of male dominance and the Victorian ideals which Indians absorbed during British colonization added to the weeding out of women from the dance tradition. Why, then, has dance become a field taken over by women in both modern India and the diaspora, especially the U.S.?

If we take a loot at its divine origins, Bharatanatyam was intended to be a male-dominated tradition. It is said that Brahma, the Hindu god of creation, established the dance in order to enlighten human beings and keep them away from vices. In fact, he didn’t seek the help of any woman to do this. He approached sage Bharata to articulate it, so Bharata wrote the Natyasastra.

Moreover, the Lord of Dance himself is a male. The image of dancing Shiva has become an icon to dancers all over the world.

Why, then, when the dance had been initiated by and created for men, are male Bharatanatyam dancers in the U.S. scarce?

Padmaja Suresh, in her June 30, 2007 article, “Gender Switch!”, on narthaki.com, explores one reason:

“If a woman could carry herself well with elegance and grace alike, she becomes a true beauty; if she exudes confidence, courage and determination, she becomes a true example; if she can fight a battle, and also nurse the wounded, stare boldly yet shed tears, she becomes a legend! But unfortunately though, a man seen crying, lamenting or moaning without sufficient reasons could become a defaced and deformed figure, not befitting his ‘manhood.’ Qualities of kindness, warmth, compassion are also extolled in a man but are appealing only if veiled in his inherent, habitual ‘ruggedness.’ Otherwise, he gets belittled and chided and a crude word ‘effeminate’ gets attached to him.”

Today, in modern India and the diaspora, not only are young women taking up Bharatanatyam and other classical Indian dance forms such as Kathak and Kuchipudi, but they are being actively coerced into it at a young age. The reason for the gender switch seems to be that these girls and women are seen as “the keepers of culture and religion,” thus the dance, which is being used to “Indianize” the non-resident Indians, uses girls as agents to connect the ancient Hindu traditions with modern American society.

Unlike with other Indian dances—bhangra, raas, bollywood—both male and female Bharatanatyam dancers have to portray both male and female roles. As dancer Padmaja Suresh notes, for a woman to depict courage, pride, and confidence (usually considered manly traits) is empowering, but for a man to show the tender emotions commonly pegged as female traits, is emasculating.

“It is commonly remarked…that many a male dancer, especially in Bharatanatyam, happens to sacrifice unknowingly, his virile stride, mannerisms and ‘macho’ image. Instead, the kind of dance articulations usually associated with women, look more pronounced in him than his very own manliness,” Suresh says.

I agree with Suresh’s argument that modern concepts of machismo, which have been emphasized by Western societies, can be blamed for generally keeping boys from being encouraged into this tradition. In return, boys, too, have not expressed an interest in learning it. American society today accepts the dance as better suited for a woman’s body. Thus, the tradition suffers the absence of potential successful male dancers due to the stigma attached to males who perform Bharatanatyam.

Face-tivities: The Face of Indian Culture as Reflected Through the Performing Arts

It’s my second year as captain of the University of Florida Bharatanatyam team. Gator Natyam, I call it, as a tribute to the Gator Nation as well as my Indian roots. This is my senior year, and as the new term begins, as with the start of any term, I have become overwhelmed with the fall workload and worry whether I’ll be able to give this team the commitment and enthusiasm I gave it the year before.

The gods (left) and demons (right) churn the milky ocean to obtain the nectar of immortality.

At the end of the day, I know I will. As much as I’m feeling the time crunch, I know that somehow, I will rearrange my schedule to accommodate Bharatanatyam because, to me, as it has to many others, it has not just become a priority, but something that I cannot live without.

My mother has taught dance in the U.S. for over 25 years, and I have grown up watching her teach. I have been surrounded by festivals and cultural shows. I have grown up learning and loving the dance that has become my main expression of identity.

It is through the performing arts that non-resident Indians showcase to the West what they believe to be the essence of India. Not until recently have I realized how the performing arts have served as the predominant channel for transmitting Indian culture to younger generations, as well as branding what being Indian in America means.

Valerie Volcovici, in her “Ritu Sharma’s Dream: Solidifying Identity in the Melting Pot” tells the story of how a young Indian-American girl uses dance as a way to counter some of the Western influences she feels may stray her away from her heritage.

“She felt confused of whether to be bold and outspoken like the confident American or soft-spoken and gentle like the traditional Indian.”

I’ve heard from many people that Indians love to dance, and generally, love to be on stage, always the center of attention. As a student at UF, which now has five Indian dance teams, and consequently, several opportunities to ascend the stage, I’m not going to argue with this claim.

Yet there is something more to be said about the role of performing, than just providing a glamorous outlet for those wishing to bask in the limelight; through deliberate item selection for the festivals and shows, the formation of dance teams at the collegiate level, and the method of teaching and performing, Indians have determined how they are perceived by non-Indians. In other cultures, the performing arts serve to entertain. Indians, however, are not only using the performing arts to create an identity for their own happiness, but to present the face of Indian culture as they would like it to be perceived by the rest of the world.

The purpose of the performing arts then has changed since it left the subcontinent. As a Bharatanatyam dancer myself and the daughter of a Bharatanatyam teacher, I’ve noticed a shift in content, style and methods of teaching and performance that are not the same as they once were in India. The changes are noteworthy because they, too, provide insight into what it means to be Indian outside of India.

With that, I present Natyarasa, a commentary on Indian identity as it is expressed through the performing arts.