Most of us ask God our questions quietly — eyes closed, alone in front of a mandir. Niral Uprit chose to ask hers out loud, on a stage, in front of strangers. Recently, at Shilparamam, the young Kathak dancer performed Aavahan — Sam: Dialogues with the Divine, a deeply personal solo production built in under a month with Nadee School of Movement and Aangan Space. What unfolded was less a recital than a confession.
“The idea of Aavahan was born from the fact that I, as a person, ask a lot of questions. I would not accept facts as they are — I would put my own reasoning to it, be well aware of the things around me, and then seek truth. When I kept thinking more about this, I realised I have a few questions to God as well,” she warmly began.
That searching quality shaped the experience she built for Shilparamam. “I’ve tried to play with unpredictability — it was a mix of traditional classical and contemporary Kathak, especially in how the music is structured. It’s multilingual, in English, Hindi and Sanskrit. The narrative makes me being helpless about so many questions I have to ask God, and the beauty is that in the journey, God will answer. It’s not a one-way conversation. It’s a two-way dialogue,” she said of the dialogue with the divine at its core, adding, “We wake up, sit in front of the mandir, close our eyes and ask, ‘Why this? Why that?’ I’ve tried to sum this up through movement. Usually God doesn’t answer immediately — but in this, you will listen to what God has to say.”
Performing entirely solo, she explained, stripped away every safety net a group provides. “It demands strength and stamina. All eyes are on you, so the scope for mistakes is very narrow. In a group, even at 60 percent energy, the synchrony hides it. Solo, it shows,” she explained. There was also a technical twist at play: “Dialogue usually means two people — one enacting the human, one the god. That wasn’t true here. I enacted both and it was an amazing experience. “
Structurally, the piece moved between English voiceovers, freshly composed Vandanas, and Shuddh Kathak Bols, with contemporary touches and small props woven in. “I had initially left a few chunks for experimental choreography and had not decided the exact steps, because I wanted to immerse myself in the on-stage movement and express myself,” she expressed. The gods she embodied — Ganesha, Shiva, Devi and Krishna — arrived through compositions built from scratch across shifting taals, from teentaal’s 16 matras to rupak taal’s 7. She added, “One composition was kept traditional. The production moved between slow voiceover-led parts and dance-intensive, nritya-heavy chunks — something in between is what I’ve tried to present.”
Where an ensemble shared the weight, a solo production demanded total awareness. “You have to be aware of everything — props, entry, exit — because the audience only has to look at you,” she highlighted.
Remarkably, the entire piece came together in under a month. She expressed, “The scripting took around four days. It was sung by percussionists and instrumentalists, then recorded, mixed and mastered in five days in Mumbai. With the leftover time, I choreographed it. We celebrate readiness — but I’ve felt deeply that not being ready, and still having the courage to do it anyway, is what this performance was. Stepping on stage, experimenting, and learning as I go — that’s always been objective.”
The music was a collaborative, family effort. “I didn’t choose the pieces alone — I was fortunate to have my mom, Smita Uprit and composer, producer, singer and lyricist Savni Bhatt. Together we wrote the lyrics, and Savni composed and sang them beautifully. Music is the entire game — we wanted the compositions to reflect different emotions: raudra ras, shant ras, ecstasy,” she stated.
What sets Aavahan apart from a conventional recital, she said, was its refusal to be predictable while honouring Kathak's essence. "A conventional recital is predictable; Aavahanisn't. It's an explorative Kathak recital, but I've made sure the dance form stays intact, true to ‘Katha kahe so Kathak kahaave’ — the one who tells a story is a storyteller. Composition-wise it's traditional, voiceover-wise it's contemporary — but the grammar of Kathak stays intact throughout,” concluded Niral.