For those who are unsure of what Bharathanatyam is, I am sure that when you come across the dancers of this art form they go unmissed. The rich sari with distinct pleats wraps tightly around their body. The small pearls and crimson beads adorn the complementing jewellery and allow light to bounce off its surface. The occasional emerald stones shine against the gold-like plate that provides structure to the earrings and necklace. The countless hairpins resist strands of hair from breaking free and hold the flowers that enhance what would be a simple plait or bun. Their bold make-up tells us instantly that what we are about to see is different and the stories they share from their expressions alone coincide with this thought. Where we cannot see these dancers, the thick band of brass bells encircling their ankles give away their presence.
Whilst it is clear that the appearance of a Bharathanatyam dancer holds an abundance of beauty, the simple practice of a Namaskaram before and after dancing compels me to understand that the beauty of this dance form is not limited to physical appearance. Within this gesture, the dancer touches the ground as an act of asking permission and forgiveness from Mother Earth for creating noise during dancing. This deed is rare and its consideration for any uproar caused in our environment leaves me in awe.
As a child, my Guru would elaborate on this gesture as receiving blessings from Nataraja, Lord Shiva - the creator of this dance form. Where Hindu mythology seemed to answer my questions on why we do such actions and the origins of this classical dance, I did not think to question any further. My appreciation for Bharathanatyam was predominantly shaped by the routines I learned, the performances I saw, and the words I recited from a suggested book. Until my recent knowledge of the Devadasis confronted me on the small-scale of this appreciation.
Devadasis. This translates to servants of God. These women performed Bharathanatyam, formerly known as Sadir, in temples, palaces, and during festivals. They were considered well-educated and highly respected within communities in India as they demonstrated both culture and art. Their dedication to the temples and, thus the deity, meant that they were not required to be married. Unsurprisingly, they became the face of independence for many women in the community. They reinforced this free-spirited lifestyle through their dance performances on love, sexuality, and devotion. Their sexual freedom and the ability to hold sexual alliances with patrons further develops this picture of independence.
By the 1850s, the British East India Company and later British Raj held control of two-thirds of modern India. The profusion of resources such as cotton, tea, rice, metal, and silks within the country allowed it to become exceptionally attractive to Britain. The changes in position in society, namely the transition of Maharajas, kings, to princes, and the highest position belonging to Queen Victoria speaks for the level of control Britain held over India.
The Victorian era was composed of distinct ideologies for both men and women in society, whereby the main role in a woman's life was to marry and partake in her husband's interests. By depriving women of the opportunity to work and stressing the importance of excelling in skills that align with a domestic role, their independence was almost non-existence. This stark contrast between Victorian women and the Devadasis triggered a sense of outrage and discomfort in Christian missionaries and British officials. The unease caused by expressing independence and the tradition of wearing sensual saris as opposed to elaborate, long dresses accompanied by a hoop skirt frame intimidated the British.
The conventional beliefs on femininity motivated the British to perceive the dancers as 'sexually unrestrained' and describe the Devadasi system as lacking control. Soon, their perception of the dancers as prostitutes led the practice of Sandir in temples to be banned. As with other cultural changes imposed by the British, this suppression brought distress within many Indians.
In response to this distress, the nationalists, who were typically upper-class men, decided to 'sanitise' the dance form. Meaning the performances that once embraced love and sexuality transformed to devotion alone. Not only, did the narratives change but the dance form itself was taken away from the Devadasis and placed in the hands of 'girls of good families'. My hints of understanding on the prevalence of the caste system, especially in India, immediately told me that this was referring to girls from Brahmin families - the highest caste. This finding that the Devadasis were not given the opportunity to at least hold onto the remnants of the dance form rushes a flutter of sorrow through me.
The revival of Bharathanatyam is often reiterated with two names: Rukmani Devi Arundel and E. Krishna Iyer. Both individuals' work centred on challenging the unjust ban on the practice of Bharathanatyam in Hindu temples in 1910. Where their prominent work helped to bring popularity to Bharathanatyam, the origins of this dance form belonging to the Devadasis go unheard. The name Sadir itself became effectively removed and replaced with Bharathanatyam due to its continual association with shame.
Today many students, like myself, are introduced to books that describe the Devadasis' lifestyle as containing 'a lot of immoral activities' without any reference to what these actions consist of. Statements such as the purity of Bharathanatyam being tainted by the Devadasis and respectable families had 'purified the art' are frustrating. Since the celebration of the Devadasis' independence could have encouraged many women to implement this quality into their own life.
The absence of this poignant element of history says more about how uncomfortable our society still is with the qualities such as a woman's independence and sexual freedom. By integrating the work and characteristics of the Devadasi into the history of Bharathanatyam will provide us a sense of appreciation for the community and remind us how grateful we are to learn this dance form without restrictions today.
A few years ago, I took these photographs as part of my art A-Level. The images were aimed to bring reminders of the sophistication and liveliness that are involved in a Bharathanatyam performance. The close-up photography reveals how the spots of sunlight allow the surrounding colours to appear brighter and bolder.
At the time of taking these photographs, I was unaware of the Devadasis and how the British colonial rule in the 19th century changed perceptions of their community. Unfortunately, this deep discomfort within the Bharathanatyam community has meant that many dancers and, effectively, society are unaware of the work done by the Devadasis and their individuality.
Today, my photographs remind me more than the words vitality and sophistication - they share boldness and independence.
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