The crisp November evening on Saturday at the CCRT Amphitheatre in Madhapur had some twinkle of stars and a bright curtain of anklets rang on the solid wood floor. It was an instance where future possibilities are rich—a feeling that is not really capable of being verbalised, yet one is feeling and seeing in the moment just before you cross the threshold what you will recognise as something appreciable in future memories, a wedding or graduation.
This night was a historic anniversary as it celebrated the 18th anniversary of Natya Tarangini Hyderabad, founded in 2007 by Yamini Reddy. Not to mention, it was not really just another anniversary; it was a new point of entry in defining history and heritage, or heritages, through performance arts.
The Hyderabad chapter serves the luminous vision of Padma Bhushan awardees Raja Radha Reddy and Kaushalya Reddy.
What began as a well already articulated vision, ultimately transformed into a movement or a way of life across generations which has revitalised the cultural fabric of India.
The ceremony began by welcoming of Guru Raja Radha Reddy, Guru Kaushalya Reddy, Yamini Reddy, along with well wishers and disciples.
The flame glowed not just with reverence, but with the warmth of continuity — the passing on of knowledge, spirit, and the arts.
And then the sound arrived — the beat that ignited the spirit. The character of the resonating nattuvangam played by Guru Kaushalya Reddy, the calming voice of D V Ravikanth, the lovely playing by Sai Kumar on the violin, the mesmerising flute by Guru Prakash, and the low heartbeat of the mridangam played by M Chandrakant all together made the sound as alive as if the air itself had begun to dance.
The first performance began with a Ganapati Vandana — set in Ragam Rewati and Gaulam, Talam Adi — calling on the remover of obstacles and blessing the stage. The dancers in their rich silks and temple jewellery danced in unison — each step a prayer, each gesture a call to god.
Soon after, it was the turn of the youngest students of Natya Tarangini — barely taller than their own ghunghroos — to take the stage for Shlokams. Their very small hands made all the right mudras, their voices intoned the verses in Sanskrit with apparent focus and awe. One could see, as they danced, the invisible thread that connected them to their gurus, to their ancient predecessors, and possibly to the very roots of Kuchipudi.
The tempo heightened with the Jathi Kattu, a celebration of pure dance — no story, no words, only the music of the body and the beat of the foot. This was accompanied by a wonderful English recital on the story of the Elephant and the Crocodile, as expression, rhythm, and storytelling blended together in similar ways. As the evening went ahead, the stage got contemplative with, My Heart Is a Temple, a piece that transcended religion and language. The choreography utilised verses from the Bible into the vocabulary of Kuchipudi, merging ideas of devotion with universality. He may be Rama, Krishna, Allah, or Jesus, the piece implied, “but in every heart where love exists, God resides.” The performance garnered silent tears and loud applause, the rare combinatorial emotion and artistry that epitomises the school of Yamini Reddy.
The next presentation, Rajashri Shabdam, drew from the seventeenth-century compositions that once echoed in royal courts. The performance praised the generosity, wisdom, and valour of ancient kings — and through it, celebrated discipline, humility, and excellence.
Then came the evening’s crescendo — the Tarangam. Prior to the performance, Guru Raja Radha Reddy took the microphone in hand, and spoke with all the calm authority of someone who’s danced through the overwhelming eons of time. He took time to briefly explain how Tarangam — translated as “waves” — is a metaphor for the dancer’s spiritual journey to balance — much like the sage meditating with the thunderstorm, unharmed by the storm and thunder.
When the dancers mounted the brass plates, it was as if all the audience members stepped into collective stillness —a slow pull of breath. The movement grew into meticulous precision with each step on the metallic plates, and all the movement demanded accuracy, the dancer's body in flight between rhythm and stillness. The image of the dancer balanced on the plate became a metaphor for the art itself — living in balance between the very discipline and devotion required, the earthly skill and the divine grace.
As the music dissipated, Guru ji and Guru maa rose to introduce the musicians and dancers to receive plaques of appreciation in an embrace of gratitude, pride, connection, and absolute love. It felt more like a family moment than an ending to a performance, reminding the audience that Natya Tarangini indeed doesn’t feel like just an institution, but living, breathing, flowing lineage — a sacred continuum where rhythms, emotion, and surrender were woven.
The evening concluded in the same manner of which it began — in light. Lamps still glimmered, while ghungroos lingered in soft whispers in the cool evening air. The audience lingered, not wanting the memory of the performance and fragrance of the night to leave, just yet.