It is with mixed feelings of pride and humility that I have accepted the high honour bestowed upon me by the Music Academy, Madras, in asking me to preside over their 47th annual conference. My pride is in our South Indian traditions of music and dance and in my family’s special heritage within these traditions; my humility stems from my awareness of my role as an individual artiste within these great traditions, and from my debt of gratitude to all those who have helped me in my life-long dedication to the twin arts of music and dance—my family, my gurus, my friends and critics, and the public that has come to pay homage to these arts, to appreciate and understand them, not only throughout India, but, in recent years, also in other parts of the world. I have been asked to preside over a conference which has, in the past, been presided over largely by musicians, and I feel that by doing so the paramount importance of music in South Indian dance has been rightly emphasised. Bharatanatyam, in its highest moments, may be considered the embodiment of sound in visual form, a ceremony and an act of devotion. For more than 2,000 years, the shastras have confirmed that an individual dedicated to dance must be equally dedicated to music, must receive thorough training in both the arts, as well as in all possible aspects of human life, traditionally classified as the 64 arts. Through this intensive education, the artiste should be imbued with a deep understanding of the sources from which they stem. I am speaking of spirit and emotion, of bhakti and rasa. 

To create the most perfect realisation of rasa in a performance, all elements must be in balance. Although tala provides a wonderfully strong backbone, it is undoubtedly raga-bhava which evokes this rasa in all its varying shades and infinite variety. The rhythmic forms and their mould should be such as to augment the raga-bhava. The more the raga-bhava, the more the abhinaya shines. We should never forget that in deriving bhava-raga tala from the syllables of the word Bha-ra-ta, there is an underlying concept of the equality of these three elements. In the nuances of abhinaya, the raga-bhava stands beautifully integrated, and includes the subtle expression of gamakas, the intonation of shruti and the unfolding of improvisation in niraval. It is my teacher’s instruction that the above-mentioned aspect should be brought out in the abhinaya, and I hold this as my objective.  

The masters have separately created compositions especially suited for Bharatanatyam. The hundreds of songs useful for music concerts are of a different kind. Apart from these, the masters have separated dance-music; we should inquire into the ideas behind them doing so. Their main ideas are: (1) the raga and tala should stand intertwined (2) the raga and bhava should go hand in hand in abhinaya (3) the raga and the words of the song should mingle together in the abhinaya. I do not have the boldness to take away the time honoured creations of the great masters of Bharatam from dance performances. Songs suited to concert-singing afford no scope for the full creative unfolding of abhinaya. This is my experience. Padas and pada-varnas are indeed the jewels of dance-music. The Bhairavi tana-varna is the treasure of concert music. The masters of dance have so set their creations that the sequences involving strenuous physical movements alternate with relaxed passages of abhinaya. Similarly, between the padavarna and the tillana, they placed padas for quiet abhinaya. Natya-rasikas may see this arrangement of alternating fast and slow tempos affording a quickening and relaxation following each other. The students of dance who are to come up in the future should acquire an equal mastery of the twin arts of music and dance, understand the subtle aspects of both and abide by the underlying principles of the art as it has been developed by our ancestors over the centuries. 

It was my good fortune to have been born into a family in which the traditions of music and dance have been the focus of life for generations. Although it is known to many that my grandmother’s grandmother, Kamakshiammal, danced and sang in the Court of Tanjore, it is important to point out that my great-grandmother Sundarammal was a musician, as was my grandmother Dhanammal and my mother Jayammal. In fact, most of the artistes of our family in recent generations have been musicians rather than dancers. Among those remembered are several violinists, and performers on the veena, flute, ghatam and mridangam, as well as many singers. I feel proud to come from a family that has produced musicians of the greatness of a Vina Dhanam or a Jayammal, the quality of whose music is still remembered by many here. I may recall that my mother Jayammal was teaching vocal music at the academy’s college till her last days.

Within the family, it was Vina Dhanam, who outlined to me the repertoire of padas and presented their scope. She was trained in the school of both Dikshitar and Syama Sastri and was responsible for the family’s interest in these particular branches of music. My interpretation of the padas, then, depends on Dhanammal’s interpretation of all of her music, and not just the padas. She set an ideal of richness and subtlety of emotional expression that shines like a lamp before those who have heard and appreciated her music. 

It was my mother Jayammal who had me trained as a dancer, in spite of strong family opposition. Not only were those the days when dance was being opposed but there was also a strong family stress on the importance of music. It was, in fact, a great musician from outside the family, Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar, who firmly supported Jayammal in her decision. Although she decided not to send me to school, she saw to it that I received all the necessary training for dance. It was she who selected Kandappa as my guru, and after a severe and rigorous session of dance training from him from the early hours of the morning, she would make me sit next to her in the evening and train me in music. Kandappa was also a fine musician, and each adavu of his dance compositions was fitted perfectly to the svaras. Jayammal taught us the close relationship of abhinaya with raga— contour. She would say, “Your head, your whole body, must move with the sangati, with the gamaka, and not just with the tala.” 

Kandappa conveyed to me the legacy of the Tanjore Quartet and brought his own exquisite sense of balance in standardising the Bharatanatyam repertoire and programme as I do it today. The initial inspiration within me to take up dancing came, however, from seeing a performance of Gauriammal when I was very young. If she had not brought the dance to such a stage of development, the combination of music and dance that I have attempted to realise would not have been possible. She is gone, she is missed, and I feel that a share of the honour in my being elected President of the Music Academy should rightfully go to her. 

I have tried to keep myself open to learning from anyone of artistic integrity and to add to and embellish the thorough training I received from my family and my guru. From traditionally trained ladies in our own family circles, I learned many things and received special help in languages, including Telugu, Sanskrit and Tamil. One of them taught me to do an entire song with just my face: first, with the music, and then in silence. I had to go through the entire emotional range of the sahitya, using only facial expression, without the aid of hands or arms. 

Up to a certain stage in my early career, Chinnaya Naidu taught to me the ways to develop improvisation, in padas as well as in other forms. He used to test me by singing short phrases giving away very little by way of cues and then ask me to state which nayika was appropriate. 

When I was already in my thirties, Kuchipudi maestro Vedantam Lakshminarayana Sastry opened great new vistas for me, especially in varnam improvisation. He once said, “If I had had a singer like your mother, with her music, I could have taken my art throughout the world.” This remarkable man generously shared his immense knowledge with me, without holding anything back. In a very real sense, he gave me the confidence to attempt the things that I am doing today. 

During my lifetime I have seen the art of Bharatanatyam rescued from ignominy and restored to a position of respect and worldwide interest. Those who supported me in the past often had to justify and support the whole cause of dance. I may mention Rasikamani T. K. Chidambaranatha Mudaliar, who arranged concerts to which he brought people who had opposed Bharatanatyam, in order that they might see for themselves the greatness of our heritage. He attacked the prejudice against it in his speeches and writings, as did Kalki, writing in Ananda Vikatan [a Tamil magazine]. Thiru V. Ka. [a scholar and activist] had once arranged my recital at a wedding. Among the invited guests were Mudaliar and Kalki, both of whom had been opposed to Bharatanatyam and were surprised to see that it was being presented at a wedding. They were converted by the performance; they realised the sophistication and integrity of the art form, and saw that it could be performed tastefully at a high level, providing a legitimate artistic and even spiritual experience, if approached in the proper way. In the 1930s, there were many difficulties and obstacles to overcome. Subramaniam Chettiar and his brother Ramaniah Chettiar arranged concerts and provided moral support in every way, and Uday Shankar introduced my art to northern India. I am especially grateful to Dr. V. Raghavan [a Sanskrit scholar and musicologist] and the Music Academy of Madras for supporting me for more than 40 years, giving me the opportunity to present my performance to a large general public and providing a place for a school to train young dancers in my discipline. Let me also not forget Kuppuswami Mudaliar, who was my mridangam accompanist from the very beginning, and whose tasteful drumming has contributed so much to my performance. Among early foreign supporters was the Dutch writer, Beryl de Zoete. There are many others who have contributed to the propagation of Bharatanatyam in India, as well as in other parts of the world, and, as a dancer who has lived during this time of reaffirmation of an art to which I have dedicated my life, I wish to thank them with all my heart.

Out of my desire to propagate the form and style of this art taught to me by my Sri Kandappa Nattuvanar, I have had the privilege of dedicating my dance school to his memory. I also dedicate to him the book on the form that Dr. Raghavan and I have written for the use of students, teachers and spectators. I must stress on something on this occasion with your permission, as I am bound to, when I think of my teacher. To plan shortened courses and produce many musicians and dancers quickly is against the way of my teachers and my grandmother Vina Dhanammal; it is harmful to art. The great objective is quality not quantity. The attention that is bestowed on dress and decor may be spent on actual training in the art. 

It is after gaining the approbation of our country, and especially of Tamil Nadu, that I went abroad. In recent years, it has been my good fortune to visit other parts of Asia, Europe and the United States, to perform and even to teach. I feel that only by adopting a broad outlook towards the many forms of music and dance which the human race has so far evolved, can we hope to understand the true position of Carnatic music and dance, and to see clearly in the face of many potentially disruptive forces in our cultural life its true genius, its unique artistic and spiritual achievement. I have had the opportunity to see the close relationship between music and dance all over the world, and to appreciate the myriad forms that have developed. I have come to realise that the arts of South India now have an international and worldwide importance. We must resist the temptation to mix them in inappropriate ways with other styles. We must study and experience them profoundly so that we are in contact with their deepest roots and meaning. I feel grateful to have lived in such a time as this, and to have been able to show to my compatriots, as well as to people throughout the world, the essential greatness of our South Indian traditions of music and dance. 

I have indicated the great debt I owe to Jayammal and Kandappa Pillai, my family, my teachers, and to the Music Academy of Madras. My final namaskaram is reserved for all of you assembled here, my audience, my friends and supporters. Without your growing awareness of its greatness, the tradition of Bharatanatyam might already have died. Because of you I stand here today to preside over this great conference. This honour really belongs to you, the rasikas. The real temple of art is the heart of the rasika. I know that in your hearts and minds rests the future of our art. Namaskaram. 

This article first appeared in the December 1973 issue of the NCPA Quarterly Journal (Volume II, Issue 4)