Who owns Bharatanatyam? Reclaiming a legacy beyond power and exclusion

As Bharatanatyam straddles its ancient origins and modern-day interpretations, we delve into the fraught history of the dance form, its appropriation, and its evolving identity 

When Mythili Zatakia, a classical dancer and founder of Junoon—a platform that creates awareness about classical dance—arrived in Baramulla, Kashmir in September 2024, she stepped into a landscape defined by tension, hardly the backdrop one associates with Bharatanatyam. For a long time, Kashmir had not been integrated into the nation and was far removed from India’s rate of progress. “The situation isn’t as violent as it used to be in the 1980s, 1990s, or even the early 2000s. The army still controls much of the region, but they are trying to urge people to get out of their homes, to create a community that brings them solace and peace,” she says.  

Mention Bharatanatyam and you're likely to think of a traditionally dressed dancer against a temple or a proscenium stage, the tinkling of ghungroos matching the beats of the classical music piece perfectly as an urban, elite audience takes in the performance. While most Indian classical dance forms are rooted in history and tradition, they continue to evolve.

Bengaluru-based Bharatanatyam dancer and educator Aranyani Bhargav began learning the art form at the age of five. “As a child, I enjoyed dance classes. But once I learnt the history of Bharatanatyam, I went through a period when I was actively running away from it,” she says. “I didn't know how to respond to this new reality of the dance form—one I’ve been practising for so many years—and the cost at which it has come to me. It made me rebel and drove me to study other movement vocabularies like contemporary dance and ballet. But I kept being drawn in again and again by Bharatanatyam,” says Bhargav. She has been practising the dance for over three decades now and runs Vyuti Dance Company. 

To understand the need to make this classical dance form more accessible and inclusive today, we attempt to delve into the history of Bharatanatyam—one that is intertwined with layers of patriarchy, religion, casteism, and colonialism. 

A tumultuous history 

The history of Bharatanatyam can be traced back nearly 5,000 years ago. Its descriptions are said to be found in Bharata Muni’s Natya Shastra and in the ancient Tamil poem Silappatikaram. Indian classical dance has most commonly been attributed to be performed and practised by the Devadasi community. However, Bhargav offers another version: “According to a scholar, Dr S. Palaniappan, the origins of Bharatanatyam should be traced even before the Devadasis, to the nomadic Viralis—female performers who led a nomadic existence and excelled at singing, dancing, and playing musical instruments. These women were not attached to temples. However, by the time the Silappatikaram was written, the Viralis’ role was taken over by the hereditary dancers—the Devadasis. They were dedicated to temples and weren’t required to marry. They were educated, respected, and independent, although, of course, they faced certain restrictions in the face of patriarchy. They could read and write and move around freely. As other communities weren’t encouraged to take up dance then, it exclusively belonged to the hereditary dance communities,” she explains.

Furthermore, Bharatanatyam was taught by hereditary male scholars, or nattuvanars,to young girls and women from the community. With the arrival of the British in India, the Western gaze led to the belittling of the hereditary dancers. Their practice as unmarried women was sexualised, demeaned, and associated with nothing more than a vulgar act, further perpetrated by the upper castes. Courtisanship was prevalent and patronage to support the arts seemed to be lost, leading to the anti-nautch movement in the late 1800s that banned Devadasis from practising their art form. 

“There were enough Indians who had seen the value and beauty of Bharatanatyam even as the dancers were being ostracised. The ban on hereditary dancers dancing in temples meant that the Brahmins and upper castes now gained access to it. Unfortunately, as the Indian nationalist movement attempted to ‘revive’ the dance, it was unable to rescue the dancers who had been custodians of the form for centuries. While the dance form thrived in its new avatar, the stigma surrounding the hereditary dancers persisted, leading to their complete erasure,” explains Bhargav. 

Yet, an increasing number of women outside of the community began taking up Bharatnatyam. One of them was Rukmini Devi Arundale, credited for reviving Bharatanatyam as a revered classical dance form. “She founded Kalakshetra [an arts and cultural academy to preserve traditional art forms] and brought in middle-class women to learn and teach dance,” shares Bhargav. The traditional nattuvanars were gradually phased out and the dance came exclusively in the hands of the upper caste and upper class dancers. “While the dancing continued to be taught, learnt, and performed outside of temples, the hereditary dancers were left out of this transition. There’s no explicit rule about who is allowed to dance and who is not, but the degree of Brahminical domination in the classical arts is evident,” she adds. 

Inclusivity and Accessibility in Classical Dance Today 

The efforts of Dr Radha Kumar, a professor of Ancient Indian Culture at Mumbai’s St. Xavier’s College, have been instrumental in implementing performing arts and theatre as a subject for undergraduate students at the college. “Now under the NEP [National Education Policy], we offer performing arts as a subject. There has always been a compartmentalisation of education with science, arts, and commerce. But when you study dance, a maths student will understand the talas [rhythmic patterns] used, a psychology student will understand the mind-body connection. When you learn classical dance—mainly theory—it opens up an understanding of verticals such as language, history, literature, beauty, body and, most importantly, our country’s heritage,” she says. 

Bhargav founded the Vyuti Dance Company in 2013 in Bengaluru to explore alternative forms of Bharatanatyam, deconstructing its elements and exploring the depths of literature, history, and tradition. “Because of this turbulent history of erasure and disenfranchisement of the hereditary dancers—and its subsequent denial—there has been a lot of misinformation and polarisation. Often, the debate has come down to who the dance form belongs to. While it is crucial to acknowledge that it was practised exclusively by the hereditary dance communities at one point, and equally crucial to acknowledge that this is no longer the case, the time has come to assert that dance cannot belong exclusively to any one community. A change in this mindset could well help break down the caste, class, and gender barriers in dance. We should talk about it, even dance about it,” she says. 

Through dance itself, Bhargav is overturning stereotypes. “I have tried to reinterpret a piece on a Dalit devotee who is prohibited from entering a temple.” Her practice showcases a different way of presenting Bharatanatyam—it acknowledges the hereditary dancers but also celebrates the current aesthetic of Bharatanatyamstyle, even as she pushes its boundaries. “I've gone into floor works and alternative narratives, including the concept of very intimate touch between dancers on stage. In another performance, I was trying to recreate a temple setting as opposed to the proscenium stage,” she adds. By doing so, Bhargav is questioning the frontality of Bharatnatyam; she is placing dances around it and performing very traditional pieces.  

Most recently, Bhargav began an initiative called Indian Dancers for Gaza Children. “There are over 775 signatories on our solidarity list. We had over 100 classical dancers from 28 countries who came together to organise fundraisers across the world. We all danced for the children of Gaza, and we raised money for it,” says Bhargav. 

Moreover, although Bharatanatyam is rooted in patriarchal norms with little effort to break away from it, Bhargav asserts, “We still have, as a female-dominant fraternity, managed to survive and thrive in a patriarchal society. And again, there are exceptions—Chandralekha's work definitely questioned patriarchy and celebrated female energy.”

Whose dance form is it anyway? 

Bhargav suggests the need for classical dance forms to be flexible in order to be accessible today. “There needs to be room for evolution, for growth, creativity, and modernity. One of the reasons why classical dance forms are losing popularity is because we are still hanging on to the idea of its ancient tradition.” Yet, she cautions against its dilution when fused with other dance forms, though this development has appealed to Indian audiences, both within the country and beyond. It begs the question about what the hybridisation of classical dance means for the sanctity holds in our culture and society. “I think 'sanctity' is a dangerous word in some contexts—art does not inherently possess sanctity. Any art form is capable of embodying sanctity and is equally capable of being corrupted. I don't think 'hybridisation' necessarily affects 'sanctity',” she explains. However, it can transform an art form. “I think the way this hybridisation takes place, and the intent with which it is done—the treatment of both forms during the process of hybridising—must be done carefully and mindfully. It is extremely important to have mastered both forms before any hybridisation occurs” adds Bhargav. 

Over the past few years, the Indian diaspora settled across the globe have combined dance forms, each having its own distinct history and traditions. Dancers like Usha Jey have tried to find the right balance between dance forms such as Bharatanatyam and hip-hop. “For me, Bharatanatyam is a language of storytelling and emotion, deeply rooted in tradition. By blending it with hip-hop, I strive to honour its essence while expanding its horizons. Its classical framework remains intact, serving as the foundation, while the hybrid approach allows for fresh interpretations that resonate with larger audiences. Rather than altering the sanctity of the form, hybridisation can shine a light on its universal appeal, showing that classical art forms can evolve without losing their core identity,” she says.

Here, refined gestures and expressions find their rhythm to Lil Wayne’s Uproar or Jay Z’s Empire State of Mind. “#HybridBharatham,” as Jey likes to call it, has taken the world by storm. Her on Uproar over 700,000 views on YouTube. This hybridity has furthered multiculturalism amidst the South Asian community abroad. “Hybrid Bharatham serves as a bridge, connecting Bharatanatyam to audiences who might not have experienced or engaged with it otherwise. Through #HybridBharatham, I aim to not only share the dance but also educate audiences to recognise and respect it as Bharatanatyam—or simply Bharatham—taking a step forward in amplifying its identity,” she adds. 

Experimentation of classical dance forms today have undeniably made the art form more accessible to wider audiences. However, its democratisation calls for more. “Democratising Bharatanatyam would require a lot more than experiments by individuals; it would require a global mass movement where dancers become increasingly aware of the need for inclusivity and equality in the arts, and advocate for it through their voice and their art. These experiments are opening people's eyes to multiple possibilities, and pushing audiences and fellow practitioners to acknowledge these possibilities. People may not like these experiments, or endorse them, but that they are possible is an important step forward for the future of Bharatanatyam,” says Bharagav. While she has not faced backlash from purists, many remain opposed to such experimentation. “I'm a puritan and I'm a traditionalist. Every art form has its beauty. When you combine them you're not doing right by either,” shares Kumar. 

Despite hesitancies, today, Bharatanatyam finds home in various spaces with efforts from dancers, educators, and patrons of the community to make it accessible across class, religion, caste, culture, gender, and even nations. 

An evolution in progress

In 2020, Zatakia established her vision for Junoon, crafting a theoretical and practical framework to teach both ballet and Bharatanatyam to make both forms of classical dance all-inclusive. Her first endeavour entailed a rural outreach programme in the remote village of Dhasa in Gujarat. Since its inception, she has taught over 200 young girls, boys, and women across age groups in Gujarat, Puducherry and now, Kashmir. 

“‘Overwhelming’ is the only way to describe this experience. These girls [aged 14-19] had never danced in their life. Some of them come from such repressive domestic environments that they aren’t allowed to listen to music. So dancing is out of the question,” says Zatakia. She spent a few days with them to break the ice, as their initial participation was uncertain. “Firstly they have to show up.Some parents will discourage them from taking dance class, telling them to go for skill-training at the Yuva centre.” 

Yet, despite differences in ideology and culture, an innate curiosity among the girls meant they kept going back to their classes. “We taught them classical dance and not modern Bollywood dance forms, which might have been met with even more resistance,” says Zatakia. “The room became a safe space for them to express themselves, away from the repressive environments they were raised in. There were no boys; they became more free and you could see it with every movement. Conversation became easier, their curiosity grew. There was a different sense of happiness.” On the last day, 400 attendees—including Army dignitaries from cadets to the commanding officer of the region, and civilian families—witnessed, for the first time, these young girls from the valley perform a classical dance on stage. “The response was beyond phenomenal.” 

The history of Bharatanatyam not only raises questions but also the need to explore its nuances. The majority of practitioners continue to predominantly belong to the upper caste and class, though there may be exceptions. Bharatanatyam, like much of the country it is part of, remains entrenched in patriarchy—something it has not been able to break away from. The form remains rooted in a narrative that is being carried forward by its practitioners, who, over the past few years, have been engaging with it in dynamic and engaging ways to perpetuate its evolution. 

Its experimentation with Western music or efforts to bring it to unconventional spaces has broadened  Bharatanatyam’s appeal. For it to truly belong to everyone, its evolution must emphasise accessibility and inclusivity while preserving its rich history and heritage. Education and greater awareness of Bharatanatyam can create a way for the arts to be chosen wholeheartedly. Dance cannot belong to anyone individual or group—it should not. Whether pursued professionally or not, dance provides experiences of grace, beauty, and connection that few other activities offer to both individuals and communities.

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