Arangetram: Reflections of a Dancer

I will admit that when I was first asked to review Arangetram: Reflections of a Dancer by Dr. Annapoorna Kuppuswamy, organized by SAA-UK, I was not particularly enthusiastic. It was not due to any doubts about the artistry – I admire a professional who can straddle both the research and art worlds with ease – but rather a certain fatigue. Having witnessed countless arangetrams over the years, I wondered: what could possibly feel new in yet another iteration of the kauthuvam, alarippu, shabdam, jatiswaram, varnam, padam, and thillana?

After a long journey to Leeds, I found myself seated in the audience, bracing for the familiar. But what unfolded was a refreshing, culturally rich experience—particularly for those not already immersed in the world of bharatanatyam. It was evident that Dr. Kuppuswamy’s academic background had shaped the thoughtful curation of this performance.

The show opened with a young dancer portraying a youthful Dr. Kuppuswamy, diligently practicing her adavus and preparing for early pieces like the pushpanjali and alarippu. A voiceover by Dr. Kuppuswamy’s sister, Chamundeeswari, described the behind-the-scenes preparation for an arangetram – costume fittings, jewellery shopping, and more. For those unfamiliar with this process, it offered a meaningful glimpse into the cultural and personal significance of this rite of passage.

Still, I could not help feeling slightly let down. I had come to see Dr. Kuppuswamy perform, not a student – however promising – still in the early stages of her journey. Just as that feeling settled, the star herself entered, striking in a green and orange pyjama costume, and the atmosphere shifted.

To say Dr. Kuppuswamy’s artistry is refined is an understatement. Her footwork was crisp, and her stage presence, magnetic. The orchestra was minimal yet competent: Vijay Venkat on flute was outstanding, and Chamundeeswari Kuppuswamy ably handled the nattuvangam and the kanjira to a lesser extent.

The most experimental aspect of the evening was the decision to present traditional items like the shabdam and an abridged varnam using only flute, nattuvangam, or kanjira – a choice inspired by Koodiyattam, the Sanskrit theatre tradition. While this bold choice showcased Dr. Kuppuswamy’s rhythmic mastery – it is no small feat to dance with minimal percussion – it fell somewhat short in terms of sonic fullness. In Koodiyattam, the presence of two mizhavu drums creates a rich, layered soundscape. Here, the subdued kanjira and lack of vocal support left a noticeable gap and a sense of fatigue, especially for those expecting the textured interplay typical of bharatanatyam ensembles.

That said, her control of rhythm and timing was impressive. However, the audience seemed to grow restless during the two padams. Their themes, while historically rich, may not have aged well for contemporary audiences. Even with the most nuanced abhinaya, it is hard to emotionally connect with narratives that no longer resonate. This might be an area worth reimagining.

The performance concluded with a brilliantly executed thillana, vibrant and joyous, which clearly struck a chord with both connoisseurs and casual viewers alike. I overheard two women behind me remark, 'That thillana was excellent!'  – and I had to agree.

In the end, my evening felt more than worthwhile. This performance reaffirmed my belief in the importance of educating our audiences. Bharatanatyam is a complex, layered idiom – sometimes elusive even for seasoned dancers. As practitioners, we must ask: do we want our art to remain the domain of a privileged few, or can we work to democratise it – expand its reach and relevance, so it continues to evolve?

Dr. Kuppuswamy’s performance was not just a reflection of her own journey, but an invitation for others to understand, question, and ultimately appreciate this deeply rooted and ever-transforming art form.