Whether Bharatanatyam, Odissi, Mohiniyattam, Kathak, or Manipuri, the mysticism and force of feminine energy cannot be removed from these dance forms. According to Odissi guru and exponent Shubhada Varadkar, “Divine Shakti is needed for the cosmic dance we’re all part of. The celebration of the Mother Goddess across genres therefore doesn’t surprise.”
Echoing her, Mohniyattam exponent Mandakini Trivedi says: “The Goddess is Shakti - feminine in man or woman. This world is a ‘leela’ of Divine Energy - Chidvilaasa. Shakti brings order, beauty, justice and peace in its wake.” She explains how Navratri is a battle to re-establish order. “In the end She triumphs - Vijaya Dashami! The spiritual, ecological, scientific, sociological, cultural and artistic layers in this myth is an unending source of challenge, creativity and joy for dancers and musicians as they can never exhaust the meanings of these myths/ forms.”
She adds, “She is terrifying (Durga), but also nourishing (Annapurna) and the Matrix (Maata). Hence there is scope for both tandava (forceful expression) & lasya (gentle expression). The truth eternal of Shakti, plays out every day, everywhere, within and without; clothed in colour, mood, movement, sound, myth, parable, ritual and revelry. The classical dancer explores, expresses and rejoices in this evergreen story of creation.”
Few associate sensuality with the Devi, but artistes believe this makes Her unique. Bharatanatyam exponent Sreelatha Vinod underlines how the Devi’s persona cannot be stripped of sensuality. “When you depict the Goddess, you can capture the full spectrum, from the subtly spiritual to the vibrantly physical, from the merely intellectual to the deeply emotional. It transforms into an intense joyful prayer with one’s whole being.”
But are these ideas too esoteric and divorced from modern life in an era where the celebration of Navratri is associated more with fun, pomp and style than with serenity, religion and tradition?
Trivedi smiles, “I see Devi all around. She is present in the majesty of the mountains, the beauty of the morning sunrise and also in the destruction of earthquakes, floods or worse.”
The latter has always been part of Devi’s mystery— how else can one explain the ferociousness that takes on and destroys even the greatest evil? Varadkar laughs at the question. “But doesn’t the ferocious form also inspire the deepest reverence?” she reminds. “There are many compositions devoted to fierce forms of Shakti like the Goddesses Kali, Durga and Chamunda. The fact that they vanquish evil always makes us respect them.”
This dominant form is unlikely to disappear in a land where Shakti worship predates even the Aryan civilisation, according to Vinod. “The ‘consortification’ came much later when the only identity Goddesses were given was being a God’s spouse. The earlier matriarchal society celebrated both its Goddesses and women independently,” she sighs, lamenting how far we have come since.
From all the different forms of the Devi, Vinod’s favourite is a composition where the devotee treats Her as a daughter: “Come to me she pleads. ‘I won’t draw kajal on your lotus eyes, won’t put a teeka on your crescent forehead, won’t bedeck you in silks and finery and won’t play with you if you don’t come to me,’ and then beseeches: ‘Oh toddler of the Himalayas! The Mother of all that is. Why have you forsaken me so?’”
Vinod explains how the transition from treating the Goddess as a daughter and then surrendering at Her feet makes this her favourite composition.
It’s finally time. The ankle bells are tied, the curtain’s been raised, the tanpura begins to play, and the flute joins in. As the performer steps out from the wings onto the stage, she transforms. From dancer to Devi.
