Flash back: Dancer in the dark
Bharatanatyam exponent Geeta Chandran pays homage to her friend, Rakesh Sahai, who documented her work for almost a decade.
This photograph, taken a few years back, is extremely poignant. My good friend, photographer Rakesh Sahai, who took this picture died suddenly this January. Rakesh had spent the last nine years photographing dance at my studio, Natya Vriksha in Delhi and had developed a unique eye, passion and understanding of Bharatanatyam.
The memory of this particular shoot is extremely precious to me. Wanting to capture a different flavour of dance in the Khajuraho temple complex, we discussed a different look for the shoot; it would be in a black cotton saree with minimal dance embellishments, it would contrast and highlight the detail and ornate carvings of the temples in the background.
At the very end, as we were winding up, he spotted this smaller shrine along the periphery of the Lakshman temple. And he helped me clamber up the high-ish ledge where I squeezed myself between a pillar and a wall. Precariously balanced with the light rapidly fading away, Rakesh opted for black and white exposures to retain the delicate contrasts of that moment. And this frame was created which I think is an extraordinary capture of Khajuraho at its very best.
The juxtaposition of the dancer as a minimal intrusion in a classical shalabhanjika posture against the filigreed sculptures of the temple complex is what makes this such a memorable image. In 2014 itself, as part of the celebrations of my fourdecades long dancing career, Natya Vriksha organised an exhibition of photographs by Rakesh. This image became the leitmotif for that show and we used it on the invitation and the posters.
Earlier this year, accompanying Sharanya, my daughter, who was performing in Khajuraho, I returned to the temple complex. But I just could not bring myself to return to the Lakshman Temple. The memories of Rakesh were simply too fresh and his recent loss too raw for me. I simply was not ready to open that memory basket at that time. But the image he created remains, etched in time, just as Khajuraho remains timeless, etched in stone.
This photograph, taken a few years back, is extremely poignant. My good friend, photographer Rakesh Sahai, who took this picture died suddenly this January. Rakesh had spent the last nine years photographing dance at my studio, Natya Vriksha in Delhi and had developed a unique eye, passion and understanding of Bharatanatyam.
The memory of this particular shoot is extremely precious to me. Wanting to capture a different flavour of dance in the Khajuraho temple complex, we discussed a different look for the shoot; it would be in a black cotton saree with minimal dance embellishments, it would contrast and highlight the detail and ornate carvings of the temples in the background.
It was 5 pm when the light turned just right, a mellow orange that transformed the temple stone to an incredible luminosity, and Rakesh clicked thousands of exposures from all angles, even as I posed in classical Bharatanatyam postures.
At the very end, as we were winding up, he spotted this smaller shrine along the periphery of the Lakshman temple. And he helped me clamber up the high-ish ledge where I squeezed myself between a pillar and a wall. Precariously balanced with the light rapidly fading away, Rakesh opted for black and white exposures to retain the delicate contrasts of that moment. And this frame was created which I think is an extraordinary capture of Khajuraho at its very best.
The juxtaposition of the dancer as a minimal intrusion in a classical shalabhanjika posture against the filigreed sculptures of the temple complex is what makes this such a memorable image. In 2014 itself, as part of the celebrations of my fourdecades long dancing career, Natya Vriksha organised an exhibition of photographs by Rakesh. This image became the leitmotif for that show and we used it on the invitation and the posters.
Earlier this year, accompanying Sharanya, my daughter, who was performing in Khajuraho, I returned to the temple complex. But I just could not bring myself to return to the Lakshman Temple. The memories of Rakesh were simply too fresh and his recent loss too raw for me. I simply was not ready to open that memory basket at that time. But the image he created remains, etched in time, just as Khajuraho remains timeless, etched in stone.
