My protest finds expression in dance: Mohiniattam guru Dr Kanak Rele

This is the 6^th edition of the Bharat Muni Samman organised by your dance school Nalanda Dance Research Centre. Why do you think has become such a prestigious honour in the world of performing arts?

People recognise good when they see it. NDRC’s Bharat Muni Samman underlines for us every year the importance of maintaining classical purity and the legacy of our age-old tradition of Indian classical dance and music (Carnatic/Hindustani). The school goes beyond this to also look at the tradition of Sanskrit theatre. Honouring maestros who’ve dedicated themselves to doing this is a way of maintaining our rich tradition. Our iconic artistes have fought many odds to maintain this tradition. In the past, we’ve honoured the likes of leading Indian classical dance scholar Kapila Vatsyayan, leading classical vocalists Kishori Amonkar, Pt Jasraj, etc. This year, we’re honouring legends, like Kathakali legend Kalamandalam Gopi, Filmmaker-actor Rudraprasad Sengupta and mridangam legend Dr Umayalpuram K Sivaraman.  This is not an award, it’s an honour on behalf of society and the nation.

What were the triggers to create the special dance production A-neeti for the occasion?

In the Natyashastra, Bharata says, as an actor, director or sutradhar, one can represent the contemporary, but can’t comment on them as it’s not the job of an actor or a dancer to take sides. But how can I ignore the contemporary realities that I see around?  Even while continuously thinking of presenting things aesthetically based on the Natyadharti (stylized presentation), incidents like the Nirbhaya case or the two-decade-old Jalgaon sex scandal scorch you from within, especially since culprits of such heinous crimes are often set free. I want to protest against this injustice against women. As a classical dance I draw on the rich tapestry of our mythology for characters with parallels even giving them current nuances as my dance reflects the social agony over this crushing injustice. My protest finds expression in dance.

For the dance production I selected five characters from the Mahabharata–Satyavati, Kunti, Draupadi, Amba and Gandhari. While I have created a whole piece Nandanar more than 25 years ago to protest untouchability, this time I’ve added another- Ekalavya to make a point of this wrong social practice.

Recognition has taken its time finding you. Many felt the much delayed Padma award for you was an honour for the award instead.

That is for people to say. I’ve pursued dance with my heart and soul without ever hankering after recognition or fame. The government's award was merely vindication that I'm on the right path. It is best to be detached about these things.

There was no family connection to dance, yet you chose it. How did that happen?

I didn't (Laughs), it chose me. As much as I fought it then, I feel destiny was very kind to me. My mother's family of fierce Gandhians were neighbours to the Tatas at Altamount road. They got her back when my father died. I was barely 10. To help her out of the trauma, my mama Madhukar took us with him to Shantiniketan where he was learning painting with Nandlal Bose and Satyajit Ray as classmates. I remember running around the campus and seeing Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore often. You know, I used to think he wore gowns (giggles). The atmosphere of the campus charged with art, music, dance and culture hooked me before I could realise.

Yet, from the soft dance moves of Shantiniketan to Kathakali for someone so young must have been quite a leap of faith?

Back in Mumbai though I enrolled in school I was restless for my culture fix. Despite mom's resistance my feet would ache to dance. “I get good marks then why should my dancing give you a belly-ache,” I’d tell her. My mama's back-to-roots art group centred around painting, theatre and dance was how Kathakali legend Vallathol Narayana Menon's disciple Raghavan Nair came to stay with us and teach. One look at his performance and everybody called it rakshasi nritya (demonic dance). Since no one else wanted to learn from him, mama made me his student.

When his father-in-law and Kathakali maestro Karunakar Panicker came visiting, he saw me imitating his eye movements and announced he was taking over as my teacher. I underwent rigorous training both in the mornings and evenings for years. In fact bowing to his wishes I gave up sports since he felt that the pure classicism in me would be ruined.

How did you end up at the Manchester University pursuing law then?

Well I was a Science student and thanks to my score the family got me admitted to medical school. Since it’d leave me no time for dance, I opted out. I’d also met cricketer Yatin Rele, fell in love and got engaged. We both went to university together. I chose to pursue international law with a civil aviation major and was the only woman in a class of 28.

Did dancing take a back seat then?

I couldn’t be told to stop breathing, could I? I performed across the UK, occasionally travelling to other European countries too, performing kathakali to recorded music.

Those were times when women were told home and hearth were priority over career. Did that happen to you?

Only once, 56 years ago. I was expecting with my only child Rahul when Yatin told me to quit dance. The lawyer in me came alive. Knowing how deeply attached he is to his nine brothers, I simply said, “You sever all ties with them for good and I’ll give up dance.” He was stunned and withdrew. He’s since always supported me in my passion.

Mohinattam wasn’t even part of your repertoire till then?

Yes, my tryst with Mohiniattam began only after my son began going to school. Rajalakshmi a Mohiniattam dancer, was in Mumbai. Apart from my familiarity with everything Malayali because of kathakali, it was the appeal of the lyrical feminism in the dance form that had me hooked despite her limited repertoire and I began learning from her.

And it took over your life…

I hungered for more and decided to visit Kerala to research Mohiniattam. A grant from the Sangeet Natak Akademi made that possible. There I was told that this was not a dance for “respectable” women. I found the dance form reduced to a vulgar routine with all sorts of dirty insinuations heaped. I found the absence of scientific methodology frustrating.

Later with a Ford Foundation grant, Yatin and me filmed surviving exponents Kunjukuttyamma, Chinnammuamma and Kalyanikuttyamma, in 1970-71. Except the latter, the others were in their late 80s. Because of living in the remote interiors though their styles retained, the original unaffected training. I used that material, which till today is the best archive on the form with the texts Natyasastra, Hastalakshanadeepikaand Balaramabharatam to create my own style.

Bringing the text and your research together kept you in Mumbai’s Prince of Wales museum for months on end.

(Laughs) Yes, that’s right. Bharat Iyer who was editor of the Lalit Kala Academy journal introduced me to Mohit Chauhan who headed the museum then. Chauhan helped me to co-relate dance with sculpture. I would go with Rajalakshmi and some musicians on the days it was closed and while the staff cleaned, dusted and swabbed, I’d choreograph my ashtanayikas in front of the sculptures representing them.

When you look back is there satisfaction over your achievements?

My ballets which contemporise mythological themes — Kubja, Kalyani, Silapadikaram, Swapnavasavadattam or my interpretation of the Maharashtra’s Bharud have all been part of an endeavour to create a repository of learning. The archives at the school and my book Mohiniattam- the lyrical dance are also part of that attempt. Artistes can’t ever be satisfied. Dance like most arts is an ocean, every time you dive in you come back with only a handful of pearls.