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Dancing is a long journey without destination, says Vimala Sarma
Vimala Sarma is a classical Indian dance teacher
and performer of the Kuchipudi style of dance, and her company,
Nayika Indian Dance, is located in inner city Sydney. Vimala's
guru is Satyapriya Ramana, who was both a student of and teacher
at Guru Vempati Chinna Satyam's Kuchipudi Art Academy for many
years. |
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The Kuchipudi dances she performs
are either choreographed by Vempati Chinna Satyam, or by herself.
Vimala has also learnt Mohiniattam, a graceful dance style from
Kerala. Vimala has performed in the prestigious annual Madras
Festivals of Music and Dance, and in other South Indian festivals.
She was awarded a Certificate of Excellence, the title "Natyakala
Siromani" (crown jewel in the art of dance), and honored
by leading Kuchipudi artistes, at a felicitation ceremony. Her
company also conducts cultural tours to India. In an exclusive
interview, she opens her mind and shares her thoughts with Mallika
Jayanti.
Tell us about your association with Kuchipudi
(when and where you started along with your gurus)
Vimala: I grew up in Malaysia and have always liked classical
Indian dance. My first teacher was Shanta Dhananjayan. I learnt
Bharata Natyam (Kalakshetra style) from her for a short while,
when I was in my early teens. Some years later, I won a Colombo
Plan scholarship in my final year of school in Kuala Lumpur
and went to Adelaide University and, after marrying my husband,
who subsequently gained research position at the Australian
National University; I settled in Canberra and joined the Australian
Public Service. During that period, I saw a performance by a
good Kuchipudi dancer and was attracted to the graceful and
fast Kuchipudi style of the eminent Guru Vempati Chinna Satyam.
Hence, I joined her classes with great enthusiasm. The enthusiasm,
however, lasted only a while as she left Canberra. I then decided
on an approach which, upon reflection, was breathtakingly foolhardy,
and tinged with hubris.
Faced with the prospect of not having a teacher, I decided I
was going to teach myself. This is not an approach I would suggest
to anyone – it is full of dangers and pitfalls, and I
probably went through all of them, as I did not come from a
family background well versed in music, the Telugu language
(we spoke English at home) or in the traditional culture. My
approach was to go to India for my one-month annual leave from
the Australian Public Service, learn as much as I could, come
back and spend the rest of the year practising what I had learnt.
Not for me the traditional approach of spending years with adavus,
then jathis, and then pieces. There just was not the time in
the one month for this. So, I just learnt whole pieces at a
time – sometimes two or three pieces from Satyapriya Ramana,
a student and teacher at the Kuchipudi Arts Academy in Madras,
each time I went to India. Satyapriya was recommended to me
by Guru Vempati. After returning from each trip, I dissected
the dance, line by line, and step by step, and worked out the
best way to do each movement. In the process, I learnt all the
meanings of the words of the songs and expression. Imagine learning
about talam without having someone beat out the rhythm, and
learning how to use the body to move, working out which muscles
to use. Since I have learnt everything from first principles
for myself, I can now pass all these skills and tips to my students
who don't have to learn the hard way.
I am now living in Sydney and, more recently, I have been to
a couple of other teachers – Kalpalatika, herself an excellent
dancer, and Bala Kondala Rao, who has excellent abhinaya, and
a beautiful singing voice to boot. I have since also discovered
Mohiniattam, which I am also learning in the same way.
How different do you think is to pursue
this art form inside and oustside India?
Vimala: It is not difficult if one has the time to practice
and a good teacher, but of course I did not, as I have explained
previously – so it was a very difficult, lonely and perilous
journey with little or no encouragement from the dance world
in Australia. However, in India, I have strong and lasting friendships
with other dancers and rasikas. The approach I chose also required
a great deal of self-discipline, and looking back at it now,
I am amazed that I persevered with it for a number of years,
given all the difficulties.
Pursuing the arts inside India has its own difficulties. Unless
one is from a relatively well-to-do family, it is difficult
to afford to go and come back from the class everyday by autos,
and classes have to be fitted in outside school hours. Teachers'
fees are generally modest but the gurukula system, where one
stays with the teacher, is not feasible when there are other
demands upon time, and very good teachers may refuse to teach
any other way. The teaching method in India is basically a 'see-and-do'
method, which involves students watching older students and
imitating them. This means that students never get to do something
in a new way. Gurus are not usually dancers, and focus on mainly
on talam. It is difficult to get to performance level in India,
not only because of the method of teaching, and the expense
of hiring musicians, but also because of the sheer number of
other good dancers competing for limited resources. The most
annoying thing in India is that nothing seems to be a straightforward
business transaction, as in the west, but seems to be based
on grace and favour. For example, it is difficult to go to another
teacher without giving grave offence to the teacher who has
already accepted you.
How difficult is it to explain the difference
between Kuchipudi and Bharatanatyam, especially since you find
not many know the difference?
Vimala: Yes, people are not even familiar with the word –
which sounds like some strange stick dance to Tamil speakers!
I must confess I myself don't like the word – it is not
easy for a Westerner to remember or say, and it is the name
of a village, which conjures up the image of a village dance.
However, to a Western audience, there is no need to make any
distinctions. If asked, I simply say it is a classical Indian
dance style from Andhra Pradesh. Ideally, it would be good to
give this style the dignity and classicism of a Sanskrit name,
but in the meantime perhaps Andhra Natyam will do.
Kuchipudi always seems to play second–fiddle to Bharatha
Natyam to the Tamil elite, and the Kalakshetra purists look
askance at it, mainly because Kuchipudi also includes less appealing
village styles, which suffer from plain bad technique. The main
differences between the style of Guru Satyam and Bharatha Natyam
(and here I am focusing particularly on the Kalakshetra style)
is the use of the chest and back in almost all steps, the pointed
toe (suchi pada), turns with jumps, the triple bend (tribhangi),
fluidity between one hand gesture and the next, greater range
of steps, greater use of neck and eye attami, greater innovation
in the use of syllables in voice percussion (sollakattus), and
greater coverage of space on the stage by the dancer –
all of these elements create vibrancy and visual interest. In
pure dance sequences (nritta), the pleasing aesthetics of posture
and alignment are seen, as in Bharatha Natyam, but the steps
are faster, and the combinations more varied.
From my perspective, the relative small number of adavus in
the Kalakshetra style invariably becomes evident in a long performance,
as it limits the choreography, so that even ardent rasikas find
it difficult to sit through a long solo performance of more
than two hours. Another irritating thing about Bharatha Natyam
is the claim often heard in performances that the art is the
'oldest dance form' or that is 'thousands of years old', no
doubt to lend some sort of canonical status to the dance form,
and to establish its superiority over western arts. Considering
that all the choreography of the present repertoire has all
developed from particular gurus in the last two centuries, this
claim is hardly accurate.
Do you go to India often?
Vimala: I go to Chennai every year in the December season but
in the last few years I have also been going to retreat in Kerala.
I must say what is lacking in Chennai – and perhaps some
entrepreneur will achieve this one day - is a cultural campus
in pleasant ambience where visitors can go for few weeks, enjoy
good food and accommodation, Carnatic music, dance performances
and also delve any in the arts with good teachers, all in a
pleasant ambience. Such a place exists in Kerala and you only
need to book ahead of time and pay once.
In Chennai, the continual hassles of going back and forth to
classes and performances in different places, at inconvenient
times, arguing with the autowallahs, braving the pollution and
the streets, arriving at houses of gurus only to find they are
otherwise occupied, waiting for things to happen, wondering
where to eat at the next meal, while paying all time for everything,
is getting me down, so maybe my trips to Chennai will become
less frequent, particularly as I am not keen on learning any
new pieces. On recent visits I have focused on performing in
India and developing my own choreographic skills.
Do you teach currently?
Vimala: I do teach but I don't look for students – they
tend to find me. I have a few students from different cultural
backgrounds, and I teach from a Western perspective using warm-ups
and warm downs and specific exercises.
How often do you do stage performances?
What difficulties do you face?
Vimala: I stage two or so performances during the year, in inner-city
Sydney to a predominantly non-Indian inner-ity audience. My
main difficulties are in the marketing of the shows. It is difficult
to be a performer and do all the marketing as well. In the last
performance, I used a ticketing company and this took some of
the work off me. None of the Indian cultural organizations in
Sydney are interested in promoting local artists.
One issue I face is that Indian audiences in Sydney, who live
in the western suburbs, don't seem to want to come into the
inner city because they cannot take the car and park in the
city, and need to use public transport. They also do not like
paying ticket prices which are comparable to Australian shows,
such as plays or Western music concerts.
What other things do you practice that help
you to be a better dancer?
Vimala: Pilate is good for building core strength and I do this
regularly. I have also learnt some modern dance technique based
on the barre work done in ballet, which I found very helpful.
Barre works are useful for all dance movement. I now have a
routine of exercises which I have developed myself which is
especially relevant to classical Indian dance – incorporating
elements of barre work, balance, some yoga poses and stretching.
I am also learning some Mohiniattam and the plies in that dance
form are at different levels and that is a good exercise for
all dancers. When practising, I usually work on a piece and
then leave it for a while. I find going back to something after
a break helps internalize the piece, making it feel different.
As well, I have started learning Sanskrit at Sydney University
and that has opened a whole new avenue of intellectual activity.
What is your opinion about the current classical
dance scenario in Sydney and in India?
Vimala: The classical dance scenario in Sydney is a case of
'every man for himself'. All the dancers are either attached
to particular teachers or are on their own – nobody seems
to want to collaborate with anybody else. I am not sure why
this should be so as collaboration always brings bigger audiences.
For example, I did a collaborative show two years ago with a
Japanese koto player, a Gamelan group, and Adrian McNeil playing
sitar in different segments of a show call "Moving East",
and all our separate audiences came to the show. I have done
the "Lotus & Phoenix" shows with Tony Wheeler,
an excellent artist who plays string instruments and the clarinet
in different styles, including the Indian raga music.
I suspect the reason the Indian dancers don't work together
is the fear of being compared. However, if the styles are different,
there can be no comparison. Also, in general Indians may find
it difficult to discipline themselves and subjugate their personalities
to a common cause – which any good Western artist does
as a matter of professionalism. Their personas seem to get in
the way of the performance.
In India, I have found that, in general, artists tend to recognize
and respect other good artists. However, there is still not
much collaborative work or shows considering that Chennai is
teeming with good dancers, and the ego is evident everywhere.
How difficult do you think is to manage
a career in dance, a regular job and family? What is your suggestion
to dancers who want to start a family and still manage a career
in dance/kuchipudi?
Vimala: The first premise that is incorrect in your question
is the idea that there can be a career in dance. Dance may be
a full time pursuit but in no sense is it a career, as it is
impossible even for very good artists to earn a living purely
from dance. It may supplement other sources of income, and if
a show covers all costs, including artist fees, one is doing
just fine. Of course, fitting a nine-to-five job, family responsibilities
and practice into one day is extremely difficult. In Australia,
where the extended family households are rare, and household
help unaffordable, such a routine is almost impossible, requiring
excellent organizational skills, unless the children are old
enough to help. So my suggestion is - go to India if you are
able to afford a house and servants!
Is there anything that you want to tell
the current young generation of dancers, especially those who
are pursuing Kuchipudi?
Vimala: Find a good teacher and persevere with your practice.
Dancing is a long journey without a destination, but it brings
its own rewards. It combines physical activity with the use
of the mind, music and lyrics. It is not necessary to be either
a performer or a teacher; one can get enjoyment and a sense
of accomplishment at every level of learning dance. However,
it is also not something that can be picked up in a year a two,
so be prepared for a long journey with personal highs, which
more than compensate for the inevitable setbacks and disappointments.
The good news is that, like learning an instrument, anyone can
do it given enough practice.
What is the difference between a Western
audience and an Indian one?
Vimala: One of the thrills of dancing to an Indian audience
in India is that there is no need to go into much explanation
of mudras, etc, or even of the story being related. The audience
relates to the dancer's expression immediately. Hence, the facial
expression is most important to an Indian audience, closely
followed by adherence to talam (timing). Even if the dancer
has technical perfection, Indian audiences will not consider
her to be a good dancer unless she also engages the audience
with her expressions. Hence, Swapnasundari draws packed appreciative
audiences to her shows, purely through her excellent abhinaya,
while sitting down through an entire piece.
For a western audience, pure movement for its own sake is everything,
but it must be executed to perfection. It does not necessarily
have to have meaning. So in the beginning, I used to do nritta
pieces for western audiences as these were lively and full of
action. However investing a bit of time at the beginning of
a dance to explain some hand gestures and the meaning of the
piece has paid dividends, and western audiences are very appreciative
audiences. There is usually a pin-drop silence and close attention.
Abhinaya in Kuchipudi pieces is very natural and transcends
cultures.
What do you think of Bollywood, fusion dance
and modern dance in Australia?
Vimala: Thanks to the film industry, Bollywood is now a part
of the party scene in Australia. People often come to me and
say 'I love Indian culture – can you do Bollywood?' This
is bit like saying 'I love Western culture – can you do
rock?' Bollywood may be a lot of fun to do, but it is not to
be taken seriously as an art form. It is tacky – like
the films it comes from.
Unfortunately, contemporary dance is what all the Australian
granting bodies seem to like. There is a tendency to pompously
pseudo-intellectualize dance to the point of absurdity. For
example, a dancer, much supported by the dance bureaucracy,
says in all earnestness about her performance: Dictionary of
Atmospheres presents the body as a meandering topography, a
roaming through shifts in terrain and flickers of scale. It
is a range of perforations, folds, indentations and ridges which
sweep and mould and precipitate different senses of domain.
She is not the only one, and I don't mean to single her out.
There is also an alarming tendency to talk about "the process"
afterwards. While this may be of interest to the performers
themselves, it is of little interest to the diminishing audience
of other artists and their friends who go to the performances.
I think genuine innovation is possible only after one has completely
understood and mastered an art form, and should add to, or extend
it, in new ways, rather than simplify or diminish it.
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