Dance: Constanza Macras and Dorky Park 'Back to the Present' ~ A Startling Take on Today

(On February 9, 2015, I watched Constanza Macras' Dorky Park troupe perform 'The Past' at Chowdiah Memorial Hall in Bangalore. It took me back to a piece I had done for The Hindu Friday Review in December 2004, when they first made contemporary dance lovers in the city sit up and take notice with 'Back to the Present' at the same venue. Here's a sharing of my take on them way back then).

 

CONSTANZA Macras has the power to electrify and energize. To upend conventional notions of dance theatre. To draw optimal output from her multi-faceted, cross-cultural artistes. To satirize society with the precision of a Powerpoint presentation, the joy of peaking from collective achievement.

There was no arguing with these facets of ‘Back to the Present,’ the Argentina-born, Berlin-based Macras’ cheeky look at reality shows and lifestyle bytes, when her troupe ~ 2003-born Dorky Park ~ took the stage at Chowdiah Memorial Hall on Dec. 1, 2004, .

The prop-packed, many-tiered stage setting had us wondering what was in store at this Asian premiere when a curly-haired dancer of Mexican origin began to execute rather conventional contemporary dance moves, slowly, sensuously, dramatically. Caught off guard, within a trice, we were watching a melee of performers vaulting through an array of doors, tripping each other while performing karaoke numbers in the oddest positions, balancing, tilting, pirouetting, miming, surviving a series of abysmal ‘accidents.’ At its very core was contact improvisation, synchronized to a seeming spontaneity.

What was the point of the perfectly orchestrated chaos with a cast originally of Australian, American, Dutch, Mexican, Peruvian, Indian and German origin? To quote the programme notes, Macras “takes the audience on a journey into the past ~ memory as looped feedback, as it were. How do you recycle the stuff that never decomposes, like love letters, flags, old props and old ideas? As history becomes increasingly digitalized, what is the difference between storage and memory? And where do you go when you don’t want to deal with either the past or the future?”

With its individual inputs directed by a conceptual overview, dizzy with high-voltage performances and brilliant costumes by Gilvan Coelho de Oliviera attuned to a spoof, this tour-de-force overturned Indian notions of dance theatre. Those who entered with specific ideas of Kalakshetra-style dance dramas or more established musicals had to jettison their baggage within the first 15 minutes of ‘Back to the Present.’

For here was a performance that took a shy at globalized notions of entertainment (especially reality TV), urban ideas of living and loving, idioms of contemporary dance, and even performance per se. It jolted us out of comfort zones, handing out new lenses with which to view ourselves at a manic, irresistible pace. It was an enchanting, challenging experience for dance connoisseurs and laymen alike.  

Macras’ show, originally performed as a site-specific work at a derelict, abandoned, rambling early 20^th century, centrally-located department store in former east Berlin, proved outsize in both vision and execution. It entailed the audience following the cast from room to room as scene followed tumultuous scene.

Adapted to the proscenium stage, the 2 ½  hour non-linear performance offered unforgettably absurd scenes that gauge the futility of TV realism engaged in “the flatness of everyday struggles.” Such as the madcap couple engaged in a gluttony and karaoke contest. Or the serious-faced introduction to the sex lives of the insect world, against the backdrop of a musical soiree. Or even the roughhouse, seesaw battle of the sexes amidst the merry-go-round of life, in which a kiss and a cuddle are no more potent than a sock on the jaw.

‘Back to the Present,’ characterized seamlessly by the here and now, showcased a mind-blowing range of virtuosity, interspersed with onscreen sequences to allow for scene shifts ~ whether as a slapstick sequence, a warbling duet in an on-the-move relationship, couch potato combat, a take-off on classical concerts, or a frenetic chase between improvised exits, culminating in a madhouse fight with stuffed toys. 

With frenetic movement as its only constant, the show wove together elements of pop philosophy, visual satire, lyric-based melodrama and over-the-top wit with perfect body dynamics to the tune of musical hits, including ‘Yesterday’ and ‘Kal Ho Na Ho,’ the latter rendered by Delhi-based artiste Anusha Lal. Bangalore dancer Abhilash N. stepped into the shoes of Israel-born Nir De-Volff without missing a cue, while B.S. Arun Kumar proved as adept at the drums as at staging deadpan interludes.  

At the end of the non-stop action, what did we take home from this premiere, sponsored by Daimler-Chrysler and Max Mueller Bhavan? An understanding of the strong emotions generated by Macras’ workshop at Attakkalari earlier this year. A hope that ‘Back to the Present’ could be pruned slightly for easier interface with a stationary audience. And a fervent wish that Dorky Park will be back in our midst soon with another brilliant production.

Dance: Michel Kelemenis ~ In constant motion

(This interview dates back to 2004)



"AN AUDIENCE going to a contemporary dance performance requires courage. So, I feel each new work requires different keys or entry points," says Marseilles-based Michel Kelemenis, one of France's most popular dancer-choreographers, interacting with a group of Bangalore's movement artists in mid-February. 

In the city as a facilitator for the path-breaking "Facets 2004", an international choreographic laboratory in January, then a participant in the Attakkalari Bangalore Biennial of movement arts from February 10-17, Keleminis in performance enchants with his fluent, yet intensely individual, movement vocabulary that melds interiority with eclectic wit. Teasing, tantalising, tentative yet tensile, he questions dance intrinsically by the volatile porosity of his choreographic creations. 

In "Kiki La Rose", Kelemenis spoofs, yet pays tribute to, the schizophrenia latent in Russian dancer-choreographer Vaslav Nijinski's early 20th Century work, his own androgynous costume and the scattered rose petals onstage evoking ghosts within performances past and present, expertly fording cross-cultural rivers.

Even more singular was "K.Danza", a cadenced, 50-minute movement experiment — based on a dense, tricky four-part score by Philippe Fenelon, including two Tamil songs improvised by Eranchanathan — that casts Kelemenis additionally as interpreter.

Scripting scenes from an offstage soloist's life, bridging the schism between rehearsal, improvisation and performance, he brilliantly unveils the essential dancer. 

Originally a trained gymnast, he founded the 18-year-old Compagnie Kelemenis that has since toured over 45 countries, with long-term collaborations with Japan and South Africa.
Terming his current first Indian trip "a visiting card", he is networking for a potential "Indian Summer" of arts in his home city in 2005, sparked by the now-fashionable joys of Bollywood and Buddha Bar. It could include performances by Odissi exponent Madhavi Mudgal and contemporary danseuse Padmini Chettur. Kelemenis' trip touched Mumbai, Kolkata, Pondicherry and Chennai. 

His hands in constant motion, his expressive face flitting through myriad moods at the Alliance Francaise, Kelemenis shared facets of his life in dance. Excerpts from an interview: 

Do western male dancers, in some sense, live in the shadow of Nijinski or Nureyev? 

They're two different images to me... Nijinski was known as a huge ballet dancer, but his choreography proved the contrary of what he was known for. That created a scandal. The first solo I ever made arose from this schizophrenic rupture between Nijinski's ballet and his modern choreography... The choreographer in me has to show what interests the dancer within.

I found the unusual wit in your dance tantalising. Does this reflect your personality?

I trust the movement of the body in space. It gives me a positive feeling. Especially when my subject is tough, I try to show it optimistically. Ten years ago, I did a piece about the prevention of AIDS, with a clear message... (Miming an imaginary hand fan). I feel the fan of expression can be very large.

How would you rate the Attakkalari-organised "Facets" choreo-lab within a global framework? 

Twenty years ago, I participated in something similar at Guildford, near London. Each choreographer had to make one new short work a day, working with different composers... In France, there would not be money enough for a workshop like "Facets", where I could see different levels and precisions.

To some dancers, it was exciting to experiment with lighting or music on the computer, which could change the equation between dance and technology. Personally, I believe it takes at least 10 years to become a dancer. I don't teach, except to professionals in Marseilles.

Was "K.Danza" an attempt to deconstruct dance? 

I chose Fenelon's music that is so opposite to dance. Within that challenge, what is my freedom as a dancer? What can I discover of myself? (Laughing) The improvisations within the written piece are like chocolate crisps in dark chocolate. By weaving rehearsal moments into the performance, perhaps I was trying to trap the audience into looking at an abstract moment. Improvisation means more trust between the performer and the audience...

The glimpses of a dancer's inner life were moving. What triggered that? 

I used to have open rehearsals. I want to show what happens at the back of the work. I'm sure it doesn't interfere with the magic face or what you've discovered of the work.

How did the Tamil song find its way into the score? 

Fenelon's Tamil friend in Paris, who's not a trained singer, sang as a mother would to her child. Recorded two years ago, the lyrics expressed exactly what I was trying to say: `I am on one side of the river, you are on the other'. I need to talk to you, even if you are not here. It could be addressed to a dead or loved person. Or a parable for the bridge between the soloist and the audience.

How would you react to the current Indian debate between the classical and contemporary forms?
 
(Passionately) I feel it is important to preserve the pure tradition. It is dangerous to abstract these forms to become contemporary. If an Indian classical dancer is interested in opening his/ her mind, I'd like to train them long-term. After coming back, they have the possibility to question.

(The Hindu Sunday Magazine, 2004)

Therapy/ Dance: Tripura Kashyap: Healing through dance

Tripura Kashyap: 'We are all born with movement in our bodies' "Most people don't nourish their body with movement, as much as they do their minds. Why is that?" asks Bangalore-based Tripura Kashyap, one of India's first trained dance therapists. "We're all born with movement in our bodies. Yet we tend to neglect or negate it. Could it be because of Indian society?" Kashyap's questing mind and the questioning body initially led her to engage in therapy with schizophrenic adults at Atmashakti, and hearing-impaired children at Hamsadhwani (both in Bangalore), and mobility training programs at the National Association of the Blind. That was on returning to her roots in 1990 after two years of American dance therapy training at the University of Wisconsin's Hancock Centre. Kashyap - widely recognized as a Kalakshetra-trained Bharatanatyam dancer, who blossomed into contemporary choreography via a stint with breakaway dancer Chandralekha's troupe in Chennai - rewinds to her most precious encounter as a therapist. This was at the Baldwin Opportunity School in Bangalore, where she worked with eight children who were moderately mentally challenged. They were very mobile, and full of energy. What made the experience valuable? "Each child had different problems. One had a short attention span, another could not coordinate with rhythm, and a third found relationships difficult. They could dance on their own, but not with the group. I took each problem and made it the goal of therapy," says Kashyap. "One day it was social skills, such as holding hands and moving them. Or placing their palms against each other's, and pushing playfully. Gradually, their coordination improved. We finally choreographed three dances incorporating mirroring, sculpting, and other exercises we'd done as therapy. Even their teacher Ruth got involved, correlating dance to their learning problems. When they had perceptual problems with drawing a circle, we'd walk in a circle, getting it into their bodies. My three years with them were very rewarding." What brought Kashyap into dance therapy? Around 1988, after a stint with Chandralekha, she was working as a librarian at the Institute of World Culture in Bangalore. "I vaguely wanted to start a dance group. But I was equally keen on dance for handicapped people. Maybe because my late brother was differently-abled. I had no idea how to go about it. That's when I met American dance therapist Grace Valentine and she invited me to the US," Kashyap says. On her return, Kashyap set up her own dance troupe, Apoorva, best known for its pieces, 'Chayangika' and 'Aranyakiran'. Many non-dancers signed on. Then came an Ashoka Fellowship in 1992, during which she travelled the length and breadth of India, training special educators to use movement therapy. In addition, she compiled a handbook with 40 activities they could use as starting points. Kashyap feels special educators need dance therapy more than the handicapped. "They're out of touch with their own bodies. They earn a pittance of what normal teachers do. It's almost voluntary work, yet their inputs are much greater," she stresses. "Often, I do follow-up workshops, so that they can come back with their problems. Word is now spreading that movement needs to be a part of the curriculum." How does Indian dance therapy differ from the US? "The American Dance Therapy Association has a thousand members, who work in prisons, at de-addiction centers, at halfway homes. In India, we're s till at a nascent stage. When trained therapists return here, they're both underpaid and unappreciated, though our need is so great. They're constantly battling with the system. So they return to the west," Kashyap notes. "In the US, treatment is almost like a private psychotherapy session. Even visitors can only watch through a one-way mirror. In India, visitors to the school just walked into our sessions. And we've got it into our heads that dance is a performing art." "In India, we have so many classical and folk dance forms which were intrinsic to our community," argues Kashyap. "Then, why are people so distanced from their bodies today? Except for disco bhangra or disco garba, it's no longer a part of our everyday lives. So, I have to use more structured exercises to get people moving here. Often, we use kolattam sticks or cymbals as props or try the bamboo dance." Within this context, she lauds Sohini of Kolkata's Sanlap, who presents performance-oriented therapy with girls and women from the red light areas. "They're brilliant dancers. You're in tears when you watch them on stage. Their equation with the public has changed. They bring forth how they feel about their origins, the problems of living in cramped Sonagachi, or the way men look at them. They now earn money through dance," says Kashyap. Kashyap was recently in Argentina, where she teamed up with another Ashoka fellow, an artist named Veronica, allied with a musician and a theatre-person. Over three weeks, they experimented with therapeutic inter-arts modules, which yoked together esoteric elements like meditative Tibetan chants, Bharatanatyam mudras, shadow play, and communing with nature. An English-Spanish 'Moving through Art Rituals' handbook is slated for the future. A fervent believer in inter-arts therapy, Kashyap is currently working with 20 mentally challenged adults at Pune's Sadhana Village, along with Anand Chabukswar, a drama therapist, and music therapist Zubin Balsara. "Our goal is to make them come out of their seclusion and isolation," explains explains Kashyap. "If we can challenge them, if we can all work with them as therapists in a single session, that would be exciting for me!" Is the Indian approach to dance therapy too casual? The need, according to Kashyap, is for trained therapists. "If you're just a Bharatanatyam dancer, to what extent would you understand the movements of spastic children? Unless you work with a special educator and a physiotherapist, how can you be sure certain movements are not detrimental to the child?" she says. What is it then that sets dance therapy apart? "As dance therapists, we don't use just one form or style. We're trained in at least five forms, so that our bodies move in eclectic ways through creative movement. It's unfair to superimpose a formal style on a disabled person. It might prove dangerous," Kashyap opines. "Even with mentally-challenged kids, you need a psychoanalytical background to understand what they're going through. An ordinary dancer is not trained to cope with that." As dance therapy gropes for a foothold in India, Kashyap will require reserves of courage and determination to stay the course.   (Originally in Women's Feature Service, 2003)

Dance: Turning point ~ contemporary dance in Bangalore

(Copyright: Goethe-Institut eV, Online-Redaktion, May 2009. Published in its 'Art and the City' e-journal. )

The year 2001 must count as a turning point in the cultural life of Bangalore or Bengaluru. Before that, the former pensioner’s paradise and Garden City, morphing into an IT hub, was torn between its City and Cantonment cultures. It offered little to match the classical dance traditions of the Mysore court, or the literary and musical legacies of Dharwad.

As the most westernised, cosmopolitan, and multilingual of Indian metros, Bangalore – where Kannada, Tamil, Hindi, English, Malayalam and Telugu are spoken on the streets – threw its doors open to radical cultural change from the mid-’90s. Its population had climbed dramatically from 1.5 million to 7 million over just three decades, introducing large disposable incomes from the IT and BPO sectors, novel cultural visions from globe-trotters, and cutting-edge technologies into its mainstream. 

Today, Bangalore counts as the premier city of Indian contemporary dance. Among myriad reasons why, one stands out – the relocation of theAttkkalari Centre for Movement Arts (ACMA) to the city from Alwaye in Kerala in 2001.

Upto that point, Bangalore was home to Bharatanatyam stalwarts like U.S. Krishna Rao, U.K. Chandrabhaga Devi, and Usha Datar, besides Maya Rao’s Natya Institute of Kathak and Choreography. 

 

The impetus towards new idioms probably surfaced when dance therapist/choreographer/ dancer Tripura Kashyap set up the Apoorva Dance Theatre in Bangalore in 1994. Trained in Bharatanatyam in Kalakshetra (Chennai) and dance therapy at Wisconsin (US), she did a stint with Chandralekha's Chennai-based dynamic dance troupe. Tripura – challenged by the lack of trained local contemporary dancers – included lithe non-dancers, such as C. Vasudev (an artist) and Balaji (an engineer). Apoorva is best known for two remarkable pieces, ‘Aranyakiran’ and ‘Chayangika’, the latter based on shadow play. On one memorable occasion, Vasudev and a month-old puppy danced in perfect tandem, at an Apoorva evening at the Alliance Francaise!

In 1998, Tripura joined local visual artists in' Territory, a site-specific installation that challenged manmade boundaries, at the Shankara Arts Centre on Kanakapura Road. Emerging from a deep pit, Tripura (to quote her) made “dance an extension of the landscape, peeling off its decorative layers. Like a child discovering movement, I explored the contours and possibilities of stones, sand, cloth, leaves, even a 14-foot-tall haystack and a lone tree with snaking branches.”   

On a parallel track, Madhu Nataraj – trained in Kathak by her mother Maya Rao, then in contemporary dance at the Jose Limon Centre at New York – set up Natya STEM (Space. Time. Energy. Movement.) Dance Kampni in Bangalore in 1995. In her words, its signature style melds “Indian dance movement motifs, original music, experiments with rhythm, and interactive design.” Interfacing the traditional with the contemporary, she incorporates elements from martial arts like Kerala’s Kalaripayattu, Manipur’s  Thang-Ta, and Japanese Ninjitsu with folk dance and even mime, defying the spartan face palette of contemporary dance. Her work has travelled to New Zealand, Canada and even Kazakhstan.

Bharat Sharma, who trained with his father Narendra Sharma’s contemporary dance troupe Bhoomika in Delhi, arrived in Bangalore in 1994 for an administrative stint at the India Foundation for the Arts (IFA). Bhoomika, still extant, was founded by Narendra Sharma, who trained at Almora with the father figure of Indian contemporary dance, Uday Shankar. As a youth, Bharat had taken the Delhi dance world by storm as the Wolf Boy in a Bhoomika production.  Dance workshops in the US and collaborations in Europe formed the frieze of his footsteps. Over time, he evolved into a choreographer, teacher, lighting designer, and composer.

In 2000,  Mayuri Upadhya – who studied contemporary dance with London’s Shobhana Jeyasingh Dance Company, and later with Bharat – set up the Nritarutya Dance Collective as its principal choreographer.

Brilliant dramatis personae were, thus, waiting in the wings when Attakkalari arrived in Bangalore. At its helm was dancer-choreographer  Jayachandran Palazhy, who believed in big dreams and inter-arts experiments. His personal movement vocabulary stemmed from Bharatanatyam, Kathakali, and Kalaripayattu, Capoeira, ballet, even African dance. Today, pan-Indian audiences flock to Attakkalari’s own repertory multi-media creations such as 'Purushartha' (2006), which garnered standing ovations at the Munich Festival of Contemporary Dance and the Venice Biennale. 

What triggered this dramatic, future-directed change? Jayachandran initiated two mega-events in 2002 that set Bangalore up at centre-stage: the free-thinking international Facets experimental dance workshop and the Attakkalari Biennale, India’s only contemporary dance festival. Besides, Tripura led Attakkalari’s educational outreach programme through schools to nurture future promise, aided by ACMA’s 2007-launched unique Diploma course in movement arts and mixed media.

 

Jayachandran’s breakaway trajectory was evident in ' TransAvatar' with the Imlata Dance Company he formed while at the London Contemporary Dance School. Diaspora-spawned, coloured by the 2002 Facets workshop, it charmed Bangalore, Chennai and Mumbai in 2003, after a 25-venue tour of the UK, Germany and Switzerland. Its tawny, androgynous bodies on individual trajectories behind translucent screens had universal appeal, yet questioned multiple identities. Homing in, Jayachandran observed, "The performance reflects a deeper involvement with digital technology and research on telematic performance. Today, cyberspace is often western-dominated. I wanted our expression, our images, to inhabit that space."

Meanwhile, Tripura set off on a less tech-inflected route in 2003. Joining hands with visual artists C.F. John and T.M. Aziz at Visthar at Doddagubbi Post, on the outskirts of Bangalore, an abandoned rural well became the laboratory of their art, ‘Walls of Memories.’ Through her exploratory movements, linked to John’s art forms and Aziz’s photographs, a powerful construct surfaced – that the well was now devoid of its very soul, the water. To encourage feedback, the urban audience was taken to the semi-rural venue by chartered buses. 

Since dance without an audience approximates to a journey without a destination, in 2001 Bharat initiated a Bangalore-based highway performance circuit through the Indian south, called Chaali. In its first year, the 37-event circuit over 5,000 km took two contemporary soloists and two troupes along coastal Goa, Karnataka and Kerala, then through inland Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh. Over 8,000 people attended their performances at formal theatres, open air spaces, black boxes, makeshift stages, an art gallery, even a tourist complex. He proved indisputably that a sustainable alternate, non-urban audience infrastructure was viable. 

A year later, Facets in Bangalore infused true grit and latitude of ideation into an art form in search of redefinitions. At each biennial choreographic laboratory, 30 to 50 international dancers, choreographers, musicians, digital and multi-media artists from countries including Norway, Japan, the Netherlands, Hong Kong, and Hungary, elasticized and revitalised notions of dance. Both Tripura and Bharat attended Facets, as participants or facilitators. While the 2002 laboratory explored the nexus between dance and digital arts, in 2004, designated facilitators explored select ideas, free of performance pressure.  

Performance proved the crucial test, though. Attakkalari’s ‘Chronotopia,’ premiered at the Biennale in February 2009, broke new ground. Though loosely based on the Tamil classic Silappadikaram, it explored the depth of Jayachandran’s physical vocabulary, through layered landscapes of time and memory, through multimedia inputs and infrared lights, allowing Indian classicism contemporary nuances, both expressively and philosophically.   

The result? Jayachandran’s proved to be among the most outstanding choreographic pieces at the Biennale, holding its own alongside ‘Murder in the Elevator,’ the frenetically agile, totally with-it, narrative drama by South Korea’s Dance Theatre CcadO. Equally, it challenged the scenically vital, electrifying ‘Extended Teenage Era,’ by Samir Akika, formerly of Germany’s Pina Bausch company. 

The Attakkalari Biennale celebrates cultural consummation, offering the stage to Madhu, Mayuri and other global talent, though Tripura and Bharat have recently shifted to Bhoomika in Delhi. For instance, ‘Chronotopia’ yoked together Frenchman Mathias Duplessy’s score with interactive scenography by American Chris Salter, video design by German Chris Ziegler, lighting design by Dane Thomas Dotzler, with costumes by Jason Cherian and Anshua Arora Sen from Bangalore. Using today’s communication tools, the team collaborated online through chats and video clips, finally meeting in real time to fine tune the overview.

The Biennale, looking outwards yet reaching deep within, explores edgy potential within an international movement arts framework. It proffers Bangalore as a city of creative synergy, of belief in futuristic dance, unleashing other energies. In January 2009, Abhilash Ningappa, once with the Attakkalari repertory, set up the Bangalore Dance Collective – comprising dancers, actors, singers, mime artists – after two years at the Salzburg Experimental Academy of Dance. He taps artistically into the demographic dividend because 40 per cent of the Indian population is currently between 18 to 35, their energy impacting Bangalore’s culture.  

Between creative interstices, Bangalore’s dance scene has explored these issues: Can truly contemporary forms evolve from the land of Bharatanatyam,  Odissi, Kathakali and Manipuri? At what point can high-tech and traditional techniques cross over to co-exist without distortion? Have contemporary dancers evolved a common language they can share?   

Such vital questions have realised but tentative answers. As technology zooms into the unknown and funding for the arts proves difficult, who would dare to second-guess the unfolding scene? Yet, Bangalore has undoubtedly articulated contemporary dance directions, especially since 2001, when Attakkalari offered practitioners a homegrown Indian base. This city of possibilities now nurtures dancers ready to leap into the future, unfettered by tradition. 

Dance: Astad Deboo/ Challenging beats

Dancers in "Contraposition"

ASTAD DEBOO is a man with a mission today. A mission to break the artificial barriers between the normal and challenged worlds through dance. His current idiom? A navarasa-based hour-long choreography titled "Contraposition". Its stars? Dancers from Chennai's Clarke School for the Deaf, with whom he makes a cameo appearance.

The work marks a reason for Astad and his eight dancers to celebrate. It has been chosen for the inaugural ceremony of the International Deaf Olympics or 20th Deaflympic Games at Melbourne from January 5 to 16, 2005.

 

When "Contraposition" premieres in Chennai on December 9 2004, at the Chinmaya Heritage Centre, it will mark over 16 years of Astad's engagement with the hearing impaired through theatre and dance. His involvement began with The Action Players in Kolkata, continues with the Gallaudet University in Washington D.C., and now embraces the Clarke School.

"R. Karthika, a Bharatanatyam dancer from Clarke, had already travelled to the 2002 International Deaf Festival at Gallaudet," recalls Astad, adding, "As I worked with their dance teachers, Narayanee Venkatasubramanian and Lakshmi Mahesh, I realised that these divas could become role models in their own community, inspiring others." 

How does Astad, the first name in Indian contemporary dance today, see his ongoing interaction with these differently-abled dancers? "Here is a community of people, as varied as any other, as talented, as unique, with perhaps more to share with the world than any of us.

"And yet they remain largely unseen, ignored, I could even say, unheard. I was deeply touched by the sense of bhakti they came to me with," he once wrote.

"Years of conditioning made me unthinkingly treat them with kid gloves. But I wanted them to be judged on the same level as their hearing peers.So, I pushed them to excel, to go beyond the limitations of their condition. They responded like true artists, trusting the exacting process and emerging winners at the end.

"All it took was recognition of their real desire — to be given legitimate space along with their peers in mainstream society."

Breaking barriers through dance -- Astad Deboo.

In Bangalore to finalise the original soundtrack for "Contraposition" with brilliant Berklee-trained musician-composer Amit Heri, thanks to seed money for the production from the Royal Netherlands Embassy, Astad shares moments from the ongoing production through a recent interview.

What challenges did he face while working with the hearing impaired? "Basically, I have to get them to count, perhaps in groups of eight," recalls Astad, counting out aloud. "Synchronisation is just as major a challenge because each person counts differently. With The Action Players, many of the actors had two left feet, while the Clarke School girls already have a dance vocabulary. I'm trying to get them to emote more, breaking the movements up into counts of four, seven or nine, depending on the music. At Gallaudet, it's a challenge for them to try mudras, just as it is for the Clarke dancers to balance on their legs. I'd like them to feel comfortable with their bodies, to project the joy of dance, beyond the merely staccato."

"With assistance from Narayanee and Lakshmi over the past 18 months, I've now got them going in my style of work," stresses Astad.

Those who have watched the master-dancer recall his distinctive melding of deft Kathak footwork, Kathakali abhinaya and contemporary western dance vocabulary.

Why did he pick the navarasas for this international production? "These Bharatanatyam dancers can do their jathiswaram or tillana, but not enough feeling was coming through," Astad emphasises. "There's no story line. They are just expressing that particular emotion, the mood extended by Amit's music. I had to communicate the sad or playful moments to them. We've been able to dissolve the bridge from a very Indian movement to an Astad Deboo gesture."

  

Some of Clarke's dancers have travelled to Mumbai and Bangalore to perform at corporate shows with Astad, but this will be their debut at a public performance. "Earlier, I had only done vignettes with The Action Players, never a full evening of dance," he says.

"Contraposition", with its danseuses between 18 and 20, will tour Bangalore (December 13/14), New Delhi (December 16), Mumbai (December 21-23), Melbourne and Kuala Lumpur. That's despite the uphill tasks of fundraising, travelling and finding responsive audiences.

Back home on January 19, 2005, Astad will take off two days later on his personal artistic schedule.

To work with an installation artist in the Munich U-bahn station to "bring public spaces alive," then with a Bavarian school for the hearing impaired.

That's after he has interacted in Chennai with an Australian-British deaf performer, en route to creating a performance on Amir Khusru.

Astad has come a long way from the six-year-old Parsi boy in Jamshedpur who took Kathak lessons from Kolkata's Guru Prahlad Das twice a week.Or the flower child who hitchhiked through Europe in 1969 after an Indian graduation. 

For, at the moment, with the Clarke School troupe, he's dancing to the beat of a different drummer. 

(Originally in The Hindu, Sunday Magazine, 2004)