Divya Goswami on Nādānt: Even if people understand 10 per cent, it's okay

Divya Goswami

Divya Goswami is a well-known Kathak soloist whom I have watched and admired for many years. She brings a rare intelligence and depth to Kathak and the breadth of her influences is obvious in her productions. Last year, I watched an excerpt from her production Nādānt, which she premiered in Bengaluru in March 2024 in its full length of 75-80 minutes.

The press note about Nādānt describes it thus: 'There is a force of existence, which cannot be contained by space or bound by time, yet it is the one that creates the many dimensions, patterns and emotions. This is the perpetual dance of existence, Nādānt, without a beginning or an end, and at the very centre is Lord Shiva. Nādānt is an exploration by Divya Goswami navigating through the leela of the manifest form of the cosmic dancer and the visual discourse on the true purpose of existence; until there is no more.'

Abstract as that is, Divya used her sensitive yet formidable technique and the abstraction friendly form of Kathak to successfully convey that. In my report on her performance in Delhi, I have written that 'Nādānt (Naadaant) is the continuous cycle of creation and destruction, sound and silence, pause and flow, at the centre of which is the lord himself as a circle of fire. He dances and enjoys the dance of bliss in the hall of consciousness.' Her dancing had 'soul', as always, and connected effectively with the audience. The first section used a dhrupad composed by Pandit Jasraj in raag Desh in a cycle of twelve beats. It depicted Shiva as the param yogi, full of love and compassion and yet detached from worldly pleasures. The second major section used Swathi Thirunal's "Shankara Srigiri" to show the seeker wishing that the lord dance in the lotus of her or his heart to burn away the fire of desires and the pain of the worldly bindings.

I later did a full interview with Divya about how she turned an abstract concept into a Kathak production and how even the nritta she chose was intended to convey the concept rather than used simply as a connector to display her technical prowess. She also discussed how, or how much, she hopes to convey to audiences a concept so dense with transcendent philosophy.

Thought process and choreographic choices

 


Divya spoke about the thought behind the production and the process of deciding what kind of movement or choreography she would use to depict it. She explained that, paradoxically for a concept that was so philosophical, the starting point was simply a lot of dancing to prepare the dancer's body for the depiction.

"We keep talking about formlessness, timelessness, nothingness. Whenever I think about these philosophies, which we say are inherent in the Indian arts, particularly in dance, the only image that comes to my mind is Shiva. I do associate these things with Krishna as well, but if I had to bring out a form for these philosophies, it would be Shiva. 

I wanted to explore this idea and how I have gone about it is this: usually in dance, we begin with building on the philosophy. We begin with the form and then we ideate - we come up with metaphors, then include the philosophy and then we say we have reached nothingness.

But whenever I have spoken to anybody, Guruji (Guru Munna Shukla) or Amma (Kamalini Dutt) or any senior person I have had the chance to interact with, whether it was my intensive with Akram Khan or anything else - I have always realized that everybody says, before you come to create a new work, you should have danced your body out. First prepare your vessel, dance it all out; that will give rise to some philosophy, after which you will experience nothingness, after which maybe in your dance you feel one with the higher energy or calling. 

That is exactly the thought I have gone with. I actually begin the concert with a tarana, not a shloka or dhrupad, by preparing the body. Once my body is tuned as an instrument, then I see my philosophy in the form of Shiva, whatever it be - metaphors like the snakes or bhasma. These are the two key points I have highlighted (and not extended the depiction to other symbols and metaphors) because if you want to, you can do so much in a dhrupad that there would be no scope of including any other composition.

One dhrupad is sufficient to show all the metaphors and the higher calling you want to suggest. But this dhrupad looks at Shiva in a very different way. It says that he has all these things (snakes and bhasma etc.), but he is very compassionate. He has all these things, but I feel like loving him rather than being in awe of him or seeing him as a mysterious figure. So I chose to delve into just two or three of his metaphors through the dhrupad, not more, because it was becoming unnecessarily heavy for me to convey and maybe too much for the audience to take in as well. 

And from that philosophical point of view, when Shiva has danced and narrated why he has the snake and what he is doing with the bhasma, whether it's the end product - bhasma cannot be further destroyed, which is why it's so pious - once he's scattered it all around, once he's danced on that cremation ground and prepared himself like that, then the human is ready to enter into Shiva's arena and begins to see or visualize his form. Then the human understands - this bhasma, I understand what its meaning is for me, that I must destroy my ego to the tiniest part possible. Or if I see a snake, I know that these represent my vices and I accept them, because only if I accept them can I get rid of them.

Here begins the "Shankara Srigiri", where the bhakta begins to enjoy the dance with Shiva and communicates with him - you've prepared his cremation ground, I see you, but how do I unite with you? Slowly Shiva tells him, give me your snake, now I will apply the bhasma on you, now I will throw the holy waters on you to cleanse you, and then the bhakta eventually becomes one with the lord. This is the route I have taken, rather than worshipping Shiva and his many features and ornaments and then going the philosophical route. I have kept the philosophy at the start because I have narrated it as the voice of Shiva.

 

"Shankara Srigiri" is the second major section and is a composition of Maharaja Swathi Thirunal. It can't even be called the second piece - the complete production is in four fragments. The first is the tarana, which I didn't do in Delhi because time didn't permit; I started directly with the dhrupad. After the dhrupad, the philosophy is danced and Shiva says, now come and dance with me, I've prepared everything for you, the stage is set. The bhakta enters by visualizing the form of Shiva and for that point, I requested Himanshu Shrivastava, (artist, scholar and Bharatanatyam dancer) to write a kavit (poem) for me. In that way, I narrated the meanings I wanted to convey.

Himanshu made it into a very long poem, but I did not again want to touch upon too many aspects of Shiva. I still wanted to stick with the ghungroo or ashes, because if Shiva has prepared the arena through a certain thought process, I have to be able to see it through that same process. So then I wrote a paragraph about what I wanted to describe, which Himanshu has kindly given me as a kavit.

So from visualizing the form as a bhakta, it moves into "Shankara Srigiri". All these vices, the shad dosha (six doshas) within us, the restlessness of the mind which is like the deer Shiva holds, or the darkness of the cloud which Shiva can dissipate through the shower of bliss - all these little metaphors, in tiny ways, I have tried to incorporate in "Shankara Srigiri", eventually leading to the oneness of the two. The knots inside all of us are opened by Shiva one by one until the final lotus blooms above the sahasrara and that's where we hope the union between the lord and the devotee will take place; we hope that there will be no difference between them.

I later realized where this process came from (Here, Divya did not want to convey the specifics of the incident because it involved a sensitive element, so this has been paraphrased). I happened to inadvertently offend someone during a convention once. I later went to apologize to them when I realized that I had caused offence. In the course of my apology, I said, 'God is everywhere.' But the person replied, 'What nonsense! God is not where you're dancing (on the stage), tum to sirf naach rahi ho (you are just performing).' We always say God is everywhere, so this particular composition, when it says "Shankara srigiri naath prabhu ke nritya virajat chitra sabha mein" - the devotee has written it saying he is residing in the sabha decorated with paintings. I have interpreted it to mean that I have decorated my heart with the many paintings of goodness, badness, darkness, evil, everything. Why don't you come and reside within me? Because finally, it is my heart I am carrying everywhere. It's immaterial whether I go to a temple or not. What really is important is that we carry the awareness of you, that consciousness and positivity in us. So you can create that chitra sabha anywhere if you keep your heart pure.

This incident somehow just came to my mind while composing "Shankara Srigiri" and I approached it from the start like that. I never once in my whole composition dance the typical way of showing the temple and what part of the temple he is residing in - I have not done any of that. Right from the start, I have said, my heart, my body is the temple, you come and reside in it because this is all I can carry, this is all I have. All else is external and that is how it took a philosophical turn rather than just being a dance. Strange how some incidents connect to something else!"

Not repeating stances for snakes, bhasma etc.

 


Divya stuck to just the snakes and bhasma as the metaphors or symbols of Shiva, but she did not repeat any stance to show them. The multitude of stances she took at first seemed simply a display of her mastery of her form. But Divya explained how that choice was also linked to the philosophy of the concept.

"That was a conscious effort again. We say there are six doshas - kama, krodha, mada, moha, lobha, matsarya. Each of them resides in different parts in our body. If you consider this philosophically, especially in Kashmir Shaivism and in others as well, they all speak about it - even in healing, the tantric aspects of Shiva, it is mentioned that let's say there is pain in your right hand. In tantric literature, Ayurveda and many other places, it's mentioned that if it is some particular point in your hand, that points to the root cause and the root cause is not a disease, it is probably because you are jealous or stressed etc. 

So I tried to take a leaf out of this, which is why I consciously showed the main parts of the body when taking stances for the snakes. Like if it was the ankle, then I know the simple thing to associate it with is 'I can't walk'. I can't take the step towards the lord. From there, I started thinking, if this is one thing, then what else can there be? So one was, if it is in my head or in my ear, then it is blocking my ability to hear. So I tried to connect all those things and tried my best to show that the vices or snakes can be anywhere, not just as they are on the very famous Nataraja murti - one snake in the neck and one on the hand and that's it. If you're associating the snake with evil or vice or darkness in us, then it can be anywhere in us. That is why I tried to show it in as many ways in my body as possible, though I am yet to explore many more!"

How much of the thought and philosophy might the audience comprehend?
I asked Divya how much she thinks the audience might understand of the concept. She said that even if they don't comprehend all of the intellectual, philosophy-dense thought, she would be happy if they got a 'feel' of the sentiment she wanted to convey:

"As it is we don't explain things word by word - I am not explaining every metaphor and pose. That is not even possible unless it is a lec-dem and I have three hours. Then I can take you through why this pose and what is my thought process and how it's connected to the next one. But in a performance, there is no time for something like that. 

Again, this is something I have discussed a great deal and I have had the privilege of speaking to a few people of late on this topic. Even as a spectator - I go for any performance, I don't restrict myself to just Kathak; it's good art I really want to go and see - I feel every time that I go watch dance, even if it's the same composition and a different person is dancing, I don't understand everything. Even as a dancer I don't understand everything. Even if it is Kathak, I might miss something, even though the vocabulary is better known to me than that of, say, Kuchipudi or Bharatanatyam. It always raises the question that if I am not able to understand, as a practitioner of the art, how much is the audience understanding? The audience in which there are maybe practitioners, maybe lovers of art and maybe just random spectators come to view something for the first time.

What I have understood after speaking to a few people about this is that firstly, I don't think it is right of me to assume that the audience doesn't already know the stories or literature on which the production is based. At some level or the other, I feel if I am convinced and true to what I wish to convey, some kind of vibration will be felt by the audience. That is what we hope for, that is the end product of the performance - ras utpatti (the creation of rasa). In my performance, even if somebody feels that oh wow, Shiva is dancing with so much vigour, even if they feel just that much, or that the end was high on energy or the silence was so strong - I think that's enough. I really can't expect people to understand every single thing when they're watching it only once and I have been working on it for three years. It is just not possible. So I am actually very grateful that I always get mixed opinions. 

You are asking me questions so I am thinking about it. Somebody else might say that 'I haven't understood any of what you have done'. It pushes me to think that maybe the thought process was in my head but maybe the delivery was not good enough or clear enough. So I go back and work on it to try and make it even simpler. Sometimes we think everyone knows these things but then we find oh, even this is not known to everyone! That is why I love to speak to all kinds of people at the end of the performance and even if someone can tell me one small thing which they felt I could improve, then maybe next time, rather than understanding 10 per cent, people will understand 15 per cent. This is something that I think I am very accepting of, that I am taking such a huge philosophical POV with my production. And it is not just praising Shiva and showing a hundred poses of Shiva and it'll not be that dynamic quality that Kathak has. That is something I am mindful of and that is deliberate on my part. In that, even if people understand 10 per cent - 100 is too much to expect - it's okay."

The breadth of movement in 'Shankara Srigiri'
In "Shankara Srigiri", Divya's movement was expansive, covering the whole stage from one side to the other. Again, she said that was a concept-led choreographic choice.

"That was the whole idea - that there is a stillness in Shiva which a restless bhakta wants and is trying to achieve, how will I show that restlessness. The only way we have is our vocabulary of Kathak, which is perfect because Kathak has so much movement. So I used the Kathak bols there to show that restless energy. Shiva is everywhere, but the bhakta just wants some way of connecting with him. And see, I didn't have to tell it to you, but you understood. It ends with the depiction that the bhakta sees himself in Shiva and Shiva comes into him as well - both ways."

The colour of the costume in the Delhi performance, the blue of the Neelkanth that Divya wore, was also a deliberate choice.
 

Pics: Anoop Arora

Note: This article first appeared in narthaki.com