THE ANGST OF A MALE CLASSICAL DANCER
Some scholars are very particular about the distinction between ornaments. If one were to collate all of the words used in Sanskrit alone for the anklet, it is likely that it would yield more than 24 terms for di erent nuances of the ornament. If vernacular languages were to be considered, the count would sail well over a hundred. What was the function of so much variation within the concept of the anklet? Why was it important to distinguish between a salangai, a golusu and a silambu?
Perhaps the answer lies in the intended e ect of the ankle ornament in the Indian imagination. Each of the varieties of anklets certainly had a di erent aesthetic value, but, more importantly, each had a di erent sonic value. In his book Nupura, S.P. Tewari suggests that it was the chiming of anklets that indicated female quarters in the palaces of yore. Epigraphs from the Edilpur Copperplate of Bengal clearly delineate the enjoyment of the “dulcet music arising from the anklets of courtesans every evening” by the 12th century Sena monarch, Lakshmanasena. It is well-documented that favoured courtesans would often receive anklets in precious metals, sometimes studded with gems, as gifts.
The ethereal sound of the ghungroo wasn’t restricted to the court. Literature often uses the sound of the anklet as a character in itself. In
Jayadeva’s 12th century magnum opus, the Gita Govinda, Radha says to her friend, “Take o these dangerous enemies, your ankle bells. They talk loudly when you walk or enjoying union.” Saint-poet Meera refers to dancing in abandon (possessed by her a ection for Krishna) with anklets on in the famous song ‘Pagh ghungroo baandh Meera nachi re’.
While these stories were
How G. Narendra made the most of the few opportunities that came his way told from the perspective of having an intimate relationship with the divine, the temple was a crucial site of the anklet’s history too. An essential aspect of the devadasi tradition was the gajjela puja or salangai puja, which marked the preparedness of a young dancer to takeover the ritual performances at the temple and consecrate her formal dedication to the patron god. While the context of this ritual was rooted in an ancient system that has little relevance to classical dance today, many believe that they are continuing the tradition of anklet puja by making it a mandatory part of a dancer’s debut (arangetram). Furthermore, the devadasi tradition documented the fashioning of anklets out of several di erent materials — namely gold, silver and bronze. Dancers of today rely on brass bells to serve a metronomic function on stage.
In an exhibition by the Museum of Performing Arts, legendary dancer Balasaraswati’s ankle bells rested within a glass case. Tiny motifs were engraved on each brass bell, and the viewer could get a sense of the weight of the ornament just from looking at it. Balasaraswati was one of the last hereditary dancers to practice the form in its authentic context. She frequently discussed the need to tune her ankle bells. The sruti, she said, was an important aspect of the performance. She hailed from a tradition where the dancer provided vocal support for her own performances and thus we must ask whether the original purpose of the ankle bell was to serve as an instrument in its own right.
From classical dances to regional traditions such as the Bhagavatha Mela, the ankle bells emerge from Indian dance history as one of the most striking visual and sonic elements. With all of its myriad shapes, sizes and tones, the ankle bell traverses social, metronomic and ornamental realms to bring us a soundscape peppered with heritage. There is virtually no dance culture on the Indian subcontinent that exists without a foot ornament.
Balasaraswati frequently discussed the need to tune her ankle bells. The sruti, she said, was an important aspect of the performance
Being a Sattriya performer, every time I go up on the stage, it is not just for myself but more for the art form. The aim is to create a larger audience for this beautiful dance style from Assam. Though it was given a classical status in 2000, it is only in the recent past that prominent festivals across the country have begun to feature it. I am also now creating new choreographies without diluting the core to create awareness about Sattriya’s philosophy, technique and sahitya.
What’s new? This is a question dancers are often asked. As an Odissi artiste, I respect the creations of legends in the eld. I look at innovation as an organic process. You cannot create something just to prove a point. It has to come from within. Whether music, dance or concept, you want to bring in changes only when you feel it is right or warranted. Anyway dancers are constantly re-looking at the traditional repertoire to lend a fresh perspective and a contemporary touch to their performances.