When we watch a Bharatanatyam performance today, do we ever question its relevance? Generations of dancers have enacted compositions where the nayika yearns for her lover. But in a world where women are reclaiming their voices, why do these themes still dominate the stage?
Dancer Vidya Bhavani Suresh’s Appreciating Bharatanatyam is more than just a book on dance — it is an invitation to think critically. As a Bharatanatyam exponent, musicologist, and educator, she aims to make the art form more accessible. "People are generally given an impression that Bharatanatyam is a very difficult form to understandIf handed an invitation for a Salangai Poojai or Arangetram, the invitee starts to panic about whether they would feel like a fish out of water," she says.
This led her to write. Like her lectures and workshops, her book adopts the tone of a friend rather than an authority.
Blending textual analysis with striking visuals, Appreciating Bharatanatyam explores key elements of the dance form. Vidya’s identity as a musicologist gives her a deep perspective about music and rhythm, both of which are the backbone on which dance is structured.
A key feature of the book is its mix of black-and-white and colour photographs. “Aesthetics was definitely a factor, but certain segments needed colour — like the Vamana avatara sanchari sequence, which has many minute details,” she says. “Similarly, I wanted the duo dancing sequences in Chapter 15 to be in colour, as they are filled with conversations and interactions. I preferred black and white in textual chapters, as people tend to take it more seriously when reading.”
The book then moves on to challenge traditional ideas about live music in Bharatanatyam performances as there is a deep-rooted mindset that live music is in some way superior. She says, “Artistes feel a disturbing need to explain themselves for choosing recorded music. With recorded music, a dancer can focus entirely on perfecting her dancing rather than training the accompanists.”
However, biases against recorded music persist. “Many platforms continue to display an obvious preference for live music, discouraging dancers from opting for recorded music guiltlessly,” she says. “In Bharatanatyam, the dancer is the main artiste. Imagining the live musical team as part of the performing visual is, in some sense, unfair to the dancer’s skills.”
One of the most thought-provoking sections of the book examines the renaming of Sadir as Bharatanatyam and the unintended consequences of abolishing the devadasi system. Vidya acknowledges the complexity of this history but prefers to focus on the present. “We can’t rewrite history,” she says. “Let’s just say that I am more focused on presenting items in Bharatanatyam that are more in tune with the woman of today.”
She also questions why Bharatanatyam continues to hold on to compositions that depict women in submissive roles. “Any art form has to evolve with the times,” she says. “If you watch a movie from the 1980s, the way women are portrayed is very different from today. Yet in Bharatanatyam, compositions depicting a heroine pining for a thankless hero still dominate Varnams, Padams, and Javalis. While thematic productions have increased in recent years, these traditional compositions that demean women remain unchanged.”
Bharatanatyam is often described as timeless, but should it also be unchanging? If the dance form once reflected the realities of the women who performed it, shouldn’t it continue to evolve?
Vidya leaves us with a simple yet profound thought: “Bharatanatyam is an amazing and brilliant art form and can be enjoyed by one and all. For those who learn it, it can be a great means of physical fitness and mentally invigorating. One just has to ensure the content is more in line with the free-thinking woman of today.”