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A dancer’s dream

Photos: Vintage Vignettes and R. Shivaji Rao

Back to the past: Some Devadasis were trained specifically to sing and dance as part of worship.

For more than 10 years, this youngest Kuchipudi dancer to have become a Padma Bhushan, equally celebrated for her Bharatanatyam, has been devoting herself to the restoration of dance to the temples from where they originated. She is also engaged in intensive research around Andhra and the three States around its borders. In a freewheeling interview, Swapnasundari articulates her work and mission. Excerpts:

How did the Devadasi Act affect the community of Devadasis?

There were some sub-communities among them who were trained specifically to sing and dance as part of worship. They were also swept aside and clubbed with common prostitutes. These people were preserving our artistic tradition and were truly affected. This is how the dance and music form suffered. The baby was thrown out with the bath-water.

As a sensitive dancer, do you think banning temple dancing has done more harm than good to this art form? What alternative could have been there?

At that point of time, concerns were expressed within the dance community itself, by social reformers and society at large, about the decadence creeping into the temple dance system. I am fully in support of any legislation that removes moral corruption or degradation that spoils social values. It was correct to try and put a stop to the malpractices in the name of religion through the practice of dedicating women for music and dance in the temples. Though the Act came into force in 1948, malpractices like flesh trade in the name of religion under the garb of devadasis continued. It continues even today in parts of A.P. and Karnataka. To that extent, the Act has been only partially successful. For this failure, the implementing authorities are responsible.

I have studied the Act thoroughly. One of its clauses forbids application of dancing forms in performing certain religious rites such as kumbha arati, heccharika and other sevas, which are actually mandated by the agamas. The process of worship is not complete without these rites. The temple functionaries have to discharge these duties. I feel more efforts could have been made to cleanse the system of malpractices. The government could have done more in these lines, preserving the essential portions of dance and music.

Now that you have successfully broken the taboo, do you see chances of revival of dance as part of seva elsewhere?

It depends on the intensity of people who undertake such work. It was not easy to reinstate dance to the temple. Initially there was a lot of resistance, and we had to break it gradually. Vilasisni Natyam was already being performed on stage. The entire corpus was reclaimed by Dr. Arudra, who brought it to the stage. It was at one such performance I was giving in Kottakal that the process of restoration began. The Trustees of the Ranganathaswami Temple, Hyderabad, happened to be there and were intrigued to see on stage something that was part of their own temple tradition. They met us, and offered to strengthen my efforts to take the tradition back to the temple. There were occasions of serious disagreements between the Archakas. I admire the devotion of the chief Archaka of the Ranganathaswami temple who went through the original Agama Shastra with a Sanskrit scholar to find out the exact mandate. After this, he could argue successfully with the Archakas. That kind of grit and determination is required. A consensus is required about the Shastra and the sampradaya which is subject to interpretation down the ages. Perfect co-ordination and commitment is needed among the dancers, the priesthood and the Trustees. If this happens in other parts of the country, it would be welcome. That would truly represent restoration of an important aspect of our heritage.

Finally, I’d like to hear something about your evolution as a dancer.

First of all, I think it was a very strong desire of my mother. She was a musician with the Gemini Studio. Ours is a Telugu-speaking family settled in Madras. My maternal grandmother, who was from Thanjavur, was a connoisseur of fine arts and a very good singer. She instilled a love for music in us. My mother always wanted to dance, but given the family and societal restrictions of those days, it remained a fond wish. One day she saw Yamini Krishnamurti whose uncle had an antique shop in Madras. She decided that if she had a girl, she should become someone like Yamini.

I learnt and enjoyed dancing since my childhood but never felt any strong motivation to become a professional dancer. When I was 14 or so, I saw Yamini Krishnamurti’s performance. The big question coming up in the family was what I should do after school. My father wanted one of us to become a doctor. The dilemma of whether I should follow my father’s wishes or my mother’s dream was resolved. Given the background of culture in the family, what I had learnt from my grandmother and my mother’s dreams, perhaps it was natural for me to decide. I refused to go to college. I started in the field very early. I had my arangetram when I was 15 and was touring England and other places when I was 17 or 18. Good opportunities came. My father was, of course, initially very guarded. He thought it was a passing phase and at the worst I would lose one year of study in a college. But fortunately, the risk I took paid off and everything turned out for the best. It need not have, but that’s how it is.

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