Figure 25 weaves magic around itself. The 24 steps traversed behind has a lot of experience making the 25th firmer. Only then 26th steps forward in strength and confidence. So has The Articulate Festival, that saw its first on 19th June 2016, now puffed with pride in celebrating the 25th edition and looking back has seen the foot prints left on the sands of time of more than 350 Indian classical dance artistes, both from within the country and abroad.

The coordinator of the Festival Mysore B. Nagaraj, himself a kathak exponent,  shared his joy with the audience by launching the website of Articulate Trust for Arts under which the festivals are conducted, encapsulating the two years of its journey.

This is not an annual affair, not a quarterly adventure but a religious happening every month. What sets apart this festival is the fact that the celebrations have been happening punctually on the 3rd Sunday of every month irrespective of rain or shine.

The festival platformed lesser seen in the Deccan, dances like classical Manipuri and Sattaria of Assam. The festival showcased the ability of differently abled in the classical dance art. The festival celebrated the diversity of music and movement by making folk traditions of Karnataka compare with folk tradition of country of Lithuavania. The gem amongst these was the talents unfolded by prodigies from 7 year to 15 year olds, making a statement that classical dance still draws attention.

Yes it does, but the repertoire has been changing from decade to decade, some leaning towards technical virtuosity at the cost of losing the subtleness and divinity that the abhinaya aspect of Indian dance reverberates.

The third Sunday, 17th June 2018, at the renovated semi enclosed auditorium of Ganabharathi, ‘Ramabai Govindrao Hall’ was consecrated by the Satwika Abhinaya by stalwarts in the genre of Kathak, Odissi and Bharatanatyam.

Dignity redefined

The suggestiveness that the mujras exuded through enticing gestures, especially on the onset of item numbers in bollywood gave an impression “that was Kathak.” Guru Shama Bhate of Pune dispelled that Kathak is more and beyond heaving chests and winking eyes. The art of telling divine stories through melody and movements by Shama Ji was mesmerizing. The conveyance of the poetry was extremely communicating even when artists appeared sans standard aharyas, thus pointing elaborate costumes has no cognizance when danced by legends. The pranks of Krishna to the persona of Rama in her three renditions of kathak numbers traversed through, made one realise  that the emphasis on brahmaries that resembled cyclonic swirls and Padakriyas that look like feet on fire was not necessarily the must in a Kathak performance as done by the youthful dancers of today.

The unhurried pace of Shama Ji’s performance was as calming as the still waters of mountain lakes now and then ruffled by gentle breeze stirring up a little ripples only to settle once again.

The dignity of kathak was redefined by the artistes who on  other side of sixty, but remained young in spirit through dance and the ankle bells reverberate in the corridors of ones heart.

Delicacy personified

Every postures need not be tribhangis, every crouching need not be a chowk when odissi is danced. Padmashree awardee Guru Ranjana Gauhar of New Delhi, swayed through her two dance numbers with such élan that one wondered why should we expect Odissi to be only and throughout sculpturesque and sensual. Ranjana Ji’s lyrical dance oozed with emotions of love, expectations of a beloved, the surrender to the Lord while bringing him to mortal level and many hues and dimensions of spiritual bliss through act of romance,  making her Odissi dance delicacy personified. Ranjna Ji’s already youthful looks despite being a golden girl who crossed her sixties, was embellished by the traditional costume and jewellery.

The choice poetry that Ranjana Ji employed to unfold the aches and thrills of a nayika seemed to echo the very expressions that a mahari outpours in her solitary pleadings to jagannath in the privacy of the sanctum. Yes, young dancers draw attention with their command on the nuances of the art form, but Ranjana Ji’s expressional dance captured in the hearts echoes for a long long time in the corridors of the rasikas soul.

Distinguishness embodied

When a dancer sails on the stage, appearance gets noticed for the first minute and then the artistry for the rest of the evening. When Guru Deepak Mazumdar softly landed, his appearance was amazing and amusing.

The impish smiles overrules the swelled contours, immediately enrapturing the onlookers attention. The next half hour transfixed the prekshka. The ease with which Deepak Ji glides from one character to the other, with just a step and shift bewitched, the expressions that translated the lyrics was spell-bounding,  the subtlety in gestures that created imaginary space and ambiance was captivating, fact that his heaviness was no hindrance when he stood up or laid down was fascinating.

Deepak Ji gainfully employed, in his Bharatanatyam concert, all his innate calibre in bringing out the navarasas as underwent by Parvathy when she encountered the yogi Shiva in his bed-chambers on her wedding night.

Deepak ji transcended his own gender to unfold the complex feelings of a female character with such panache that even a female artiste would feel bashful before him. The frolicsome Krishna pleading for a story of Rama  as a lullaby, only to wake up in shock and calling out Lakshmana and asking for his bow and arrow suddenly to realise that he re-lived his past life for a moment was enacted so profoundly that remained artistry at its best on the dance canvas.

Ramayana was retold in brisk and yet gentle flashes with great finesse. Being  on the other side of 60 was not a disadvantage, being large size was not a hindrance, only if a artiste is passionate about their sacred art and Deepak Ji is truly that and more.

Compared to the lightning  performances of the young today, the performances by the legends, that evening, was like a gentle rain with cool breeze in the monsoon, making a rasika say, “thank God it did not rain.”