Approximately 2,500 years ago, Lord Buddha preached his first sermon at Sarnath on Ashadha Purnima, the day of full moon night in the month of Ashadha (July-August) in Hindu calendar, thus setting in motion Dhammachakkapavattana, turning the wheels of Dharma. According to Hindu legends, the great sage and one of the greatest teachers Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, the author of Mahabharata was born on Ashadha Purnima. Traditionally, this day is celebrated by Buddhist and
Hindus as Guru Purnima, the day to pay respect to one’s guru or teacher. Guru Purnima is also celebrated by the practitioners of Indian classical dance and music all over the world irrespective of one’s caste, creed and religion.
In ancient India, all the events from the past, and its lessons, were passed down generations through oral tradition. In this context, the importance of the teacher was immense. They were not only the treasure troves of specific fields of learning, be it philosophy, science or music; it was also their duty to teach and train the next generation, thus creating a chain of unbroken traditions continuing through millenniums. The sacred texts of Hindu religion, the Upanishadas, etymologically implied sitting near (the feet) of a teacher to receive instructions.
This same principle applied to Indian music and dance. Unlike the West, Indian classical music never had the concept of written notations until recently. In Indian classical dance and music traditions, the training has always been imparted through a very direct and personalised method and relationship between the teacher and the disciple. This gave rise to the tradition of “Guru-shishya Parampara” or imparting training through a much personalised relationship between the teacher and the student. This went beyond any prescribed method and hours of training as practised in formal academies. The student often stayed with the teacher, and learned and practiced under his watchful guidance day and night. The finer nuances of Indian classical music cannot be notated even today, and it has to be learned by Shruti—hearing. For example, the decibel of a particular note in a specified raga may be slightly higher or lower than the usual. Thus it becomes not only a sub-note, but sometimes there are subtle categorisation even in the realm of the sub-notes. It’s thus impossible to put it into notation. The differences are so fine that it’s not easily discernable even through audio recordings. It’s only through the guidance of the master a student can develop finer understanding of these differences.
Many years back when I was a young girl I was initiated to dance through my first guru late Pandit Durgalaji on the day of Guru Purnima. After doing the puja (worship), he tied the red-coloured thread on my wrist. I also did the same for him. This act represents the sacred bond between the guru and shishya (the teacher and the disciple). Through this small but hugely significant ceremony, I became initiated not only to dance but became part of an unbroken tradition since ancient ages. Now after so many years, when I tie the thread on the wrists of my students on Guru Purnima, my heart swells with immense pride, at the same time I bow my head in humility at the honour of being able to be a miniscule part of this great current of tradition flowing uninterrupted through centuries.
The writer is a Kathak dancer based in Delhi