Kalashram Vasantotsava 2022

Subhankar Banerjee (left), Birju Maharaj (center), Rajan Mishra (right)

As I mentioned in a recent post, Kalashram--the kathak institute founded by late maestro Pt. Birju Maharaj--held its spring festival last Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday at Kamani Auditorium in Delhi. The event commemorated the legacy of Maharaj-ji, who passed away in January, and honored two of his close friends and collaborators who also died during the pandemic: Hindustani vocalist Rajan Mishra and tabla player Subhankar Banerjee. The festival marked the first major kathak event since I arrived in Delhi (at least that I'm aware of), and given that my Fulbright project focuses on drum accompaniment for this particular North Indian dance form, I took numerous videos to use as performance analysis examples. All told, I probably recorded more than three hours over the course of three nights. Akin to my late-March post on Music in the Park, I will share selected clips along with explanations and observations. In the process, I'll do a bit of preliminary analysis that may help down the road. Two birds one stone and all. The following is likely a more in-depth look at kathak performance practice than most of you are seeking here. If you're interested, read on. If not, no hard feelings. Or just watch a couple vids and call in a day. More food and animal pics to come, I promise.

Each night opened with a musical performance before proceeding to a series of dance recitals. Night one, a tabla ensemble featuring disciples of Subhankar Banerjee, including his son, kicked off the festivities. The piece, composed by Banerjee himself, took some interesting creative liberties and contained moments of brilliance as individual players showcased their skills. Maybe it's just my inner purest talking, but I find group tabla playing less and less moving these days. With some instruments--in an orchestra or drum line for instance--the density and power of the sound increases along with the number of players, at least within reason. Tabla is not such an instrument. More than two tabla players playing simultaneously rarely sounds clean, even if the musicians are outstanding, and there is no gain in sound quality over what you could get from one competent player on set set of well-tuned, well-miked drums. It usually just sounds like a bunch of shoes in the dryer. 

Night two began with a vocal presentation of Raag Madhuvanti by Dr. Nabanita Chowdhury, a disciple of Pt. Rajan Mishra, accompanied by Mithilesh Jha on tabla. Truly spellbinding stuff. Dr. Chowdhury began in ati vilambit (very slow) ek taal (12 beats) before moving to tin tal (16 beats) for the culmination of her recital. I was so enthralled, I never even pulled my phone out to take a video. Night three kicked off with a performance by Amjad Ali Khan, the preeminent living sarod maestro, who still brought his fastball at 76. Satyajit Talwalkar accompanied on tabla. 

Now on to the dancing.

April 20: Night One

Yashaswani and Ragini Maharaj

Yashaswani and Ragini Maharaj, granddaughters of Birju Maharaj, gave the first kathak performance of the festival. They represent the ninth generation of the Kalka-Bindadin Gharana of Lucknow. Here we see Ragini, the more experienced of the two dancers, speaking padhant (recitation) into the microphone as she introduces a parmelu, which the duo proceeds to dance together. In addition to pakhawaj bols, parmelu incorporates bols based on nature sounds, which have no direct equivalent on North Indian drums. Parmelu can be tricky for drummers (me) to translate, but mostly as a byproduct of inexperience. Tabla accompanist Utpal Ghoshal, who I've been sitting with for lessons since our interview in March, takes this one in stride. He's a pro and I'm sure he'd heard the composition plenty of times before, being a veteran accompanist of the Maharajs. After a little chatting and explanation, Yashaswani and Ragini then show a tihai to display their rhythmic footwork. In Hindustani music, a tihai can be defined as any phrase that repeats three times and lands on the sum, or first beat of the rhythmic cycle. In kathak, as in tabla solo, tihais become complex mathematical exercises that manipulate time cycles in all sorts of clever and unexpected ways. Ragini again introduces the composition on the microphone. As the duo dances, a family member recites padhant along with their performance of the tihai. The proliferation of ginti tihais such as this one, which use Hindi numbers in addition to dance bols, is attributed to Birju Maharaj. While they are now ubiquitous in kathak performance practice, they are considered a specialty of the Kalka-Bindadin Gharana.

Aditi Mangaldas Group

Aditi Mangaldas, a disciple of Birju Maharaj, then presented a group dance with several of her own advanced students. While the stage production and choreography were undeniably impressive, the percussion drew my attention above all. I admit, that is not unusual. Two younger members of the Gangani family, Mohit on tabla and Ashish on pakhawaj, accompanied the group. It is not uncommon to see tabla and pakhawaj side by side on the kathak stage, but in my experience it is unusual to see pakhawaj take the leading role in this pairing. Usually tabla comprises the primary accompaniment for contemporary kathak presentations. If pakhawaj is present, it usually serves to reinforce the sound and accentuate the structure of the taal. In this instance, it quickly became apparent that Ashish was leading the accompanying ensemble on pakhawaj. He played forcefully and confidently, and the pakhawaj stood out prominently in the mix rather than blending into the background in support of the tabla. The combination of the two drums--played by young, energetic accompanists--brought an excitement to this dance that some of the other group choreography staged throughout the festival lacked. Ashish's performance here convinced me to seek him out last week, and we met Wednesday for our first pakhawaj lesson. While I've been learning from Mohan Sharma for a month now, and will continue to study with him, Ashish specializes in accompanying dance. Mohan-ji trained at Kathak Kendra in the 80s, but has since established himself exclusively as a soloist and accompanist for dhrupad, the older, more austere genre of Hindustani vocal and instrumental music. From where I'm sitting, it can't hurt to learn from both of them.

Rani Khanum

Rani Khanum is a senior exponent of Lucknow Gharana kathak who also trained under Birju Maharaj. She is the founder and director of her own dance center here in Delhi and is known for using kathak to address social issues, such as the rights of Indian Muslim women. Nothing about this performance spoke overtly to social justice issues, but it is worth noting that a group of primarily Muslim accompanists supported Khanum, including Amaan Ali Khan on tabla. The first thing that struck me about the performance was the clarity of her padhant. The second, the clarity of her footwork. The belief that "you have to say it to play it" pervades Hindustani music and dance, and Rani Khanum supported this thesis with crisp, articulate recitation that translated into crisp, articulate footwork (tatkar). Aside from the all-around high quality of her performance, the other thing that stood out was her relationship with the accompanying musicians. She checked in with them regularly, speeding them up and slowly them down as needed, and didn't hesitate to start an item over if she became displeased with the tempo or lack of rhythmic cohesion. To some extent, this is the norm in kathak presentation. Nonetheless, her authority was palpable. The second clip starts with Khanum setting the tempo for her musicians before approaching the microphone for padhant. When things get a little out of whack during her recitation, she beckons for her accompanists to hold it together, then recites a second time with Amaan Ali Khan playing the composition on tabla. Perhaps she was out of breath and simply wanted to recite again before proceeding to dance, or perhaps she wasn't confident with the cohesion of the ensemble and wanted to reinforce the composition before performing it. In any case, those types of recoveries rely on strong communication between the dancer and accompanists. Khanum projected a clear authority over everything that transpired on her stage.

April 21: Night Two

Shinjini Kulkarni

Another grandchild of Birju Maharaj, Shinjini Kulkarni gave a solo performance, accompanied by Yogesh Gangani on tabla, to kick off the dance portion of night two. The clip above is taken from a segment in the 13-beat raas taal, which I did not recognize at the time but learned the name of the following morning when I chatted with Yogesh-ji at Kathak Kendra prior to meeting with Rajendra Gangani. After speaking the theka and checking in with her accompanists to establish a slightly faster tempo, Kulkarni recites and dances a Krishna bandish. Gangani attentively accentuates her movements on the tabla, playing with power, spontaneity, and expression. After taking the mic and commenting on the 13-matra cycle, he then plays a short solo to show some of the contours of the unusual taal while the dancer watches. Kulkarni returns to the mic with an approving "kyaa baat hai" (lit. "what a thing")--a common interjection heard during North Indian performances--before asking the audio technician to turn down the sarangi and sitar and boost the level of the stage monitors. She then introduces a short tihai, which she recites and dances. In contrast to the bandish, which allowed for more upper body movement and interpretive expression, the tihai provides an opportunity to showcase her footwork and rhythmic dexterity. While I found Kulkarni's performance impressive, particularly her command of repertoire in the 13-matra cycle, Yogesh Gangani's tabla accompaniment provided the real thrill here. You'd have trouble finding a more engaged performer, and his attention to the dancer and overall stage presence enhanced Kulkarni's recital by keeping it energetic and exciting.

Mamta Maharaj

Mamta Maharaj, daughter of Birju Maharaj and the first female kathak professional from the Kalka-Bindadin lineage of Lucknow, was a clear fan-favorite at Vasantotsava 2022. Over the course of three nights, no one garnered more applause from the full auditorium. In this clip, Maharaj works in dhamar, a 14-matra cycle most commonly associated with the dhrupad genre of Hindustani music as well as kathak dance. Utpal Ghoshal, who supported Ragini and Yashaswani on night one, accompanies on tabla and Ragini Maharaj provides padhant from the riser. Mamta and Ragini recite the first composition together, then Ragini continues to recite as Mamta dances. The composition, which manipulates rhythm within dhamar in surprising ways before landing on the final sum, proves such a hit that a small, vocal contingent of the audience implores her to show it again. She obliges, and the second rendering elicits even more applause than the first. It goes to show you don't have to be young and shapely to impress on the kathak stage. True mastery supersedes appearance. Following the second iteration, Utpal da recites and performs a solo tabla composition to give Mamta a breather. The clip ends with an item she introduces as one of Maharaj-ji's very old compositions, saying she will try to do it justice. Based on the crowd's reaction, it's safe to say she succeeded.

Krishan Mohan and Ram Mohan Maharaj

Krishan Mohan and Ram Mohan are brothers, both sons of Pt. Shambu Maharaj, uncle of Birju Maharaj. As I understand the lineage, that places them, along with Birju Maharaj, in the seventh generation of the Kalka-Bindadin Gharana. Both dancers learned from their father, and Ram Mohan went on to study with Birju Maharaj as well. In this clip, the brothers show off a juganbandi (duet) in the sawaal-jawaab (lit. question-answer) style with their footwork. Krishan Mohan leads the exchange and appears the sharper of the two dancers, at least in terms of clarity of footwork and rhythmic precision. It's possible his floor mic was just dialed in better than Ram Mohan's, but regardless he seems more confident and his confidence translates into more articulate tatkar. Following the jugalbandi, a short pakhawaj solo ends the clip.

One of the noteworthy aspects of this performance was the absence of tabla. As I mentioned earlier, it's not unusual to see tabla and pakhawaj together on the kathak stage, but this was the first time I've seen pakhawaj used without tabla. If one drum is used for accompaniment it will generally be tabla, with the frequent addition of pakhawaj as desired by individual performers. Maybe I'm just biased towards pakhawaj at the moment because of my recent dive into learning the instrument, but I thought the dancers' decision to showcase it here proved effective. Tabla and pakhawaj have complementary sounds and comparable uses in dance accompaniment, but too often the pakhawaj gets lost behind the tabla when both play simultaneously. Without diving too deep into the history of the two drums in relation to kathak performance practice, the pakhawaj is often cited as the source of many kathak bols and repertoire items while the tabla has more recently become the favored drum for dance accompaniment in North India owing to its versatility and clarity of articulation. It strikes me as somewhat contradictory, however, that even when presenting dance repertoire based on pakhawaj strokes and vocabulary, the pakhawaj will often play a subservient role to the tabla even as the tabla approximates the language of the pakhawaj. This performance provided a glimpse into the pakhawaj's strengths as an accompanying instrument free of any sonic dueling with the tabla. I wish I'd had caught the name of the player, but alas it flew by in an undocumented moment.

Shovana Narayan

At 71 years old, Shovana Narayan closed out night two. By the time Narayan took the stage around 10:30, the crowd had thinned considerably from its peak during Mamta Maharaj's recital. Those who remained were rewarded with a memorable performance from one of kathak's premier practitioners. Narayan studied under Birju Maharaj and emerged as a world-class performer and teacher by the 1980s. This longer clip showcases her expressive dance (abhinaya) as she interprets the lyrics of a song text. In contrast to the tihais and various short compositions that showcase rhythmic virtuosity, abhinaya highlights a dancer's ability to express emotional subtlety using the face and upper body. Abhinaya is storytelling through dance, usually with the intention to embody and illicit specific bhava (moods or emotions), whereas the abstract rhythmic dance repertoire (nritta) has no true narrative function. Generally a performer will present both types of repertoire in a recital. The art of abhinaya, which is central to multiple Indian dance forms, can--in the case of kathak--be considered a vestige of past courtesan dance practices that inform contemporary performance practice. In kathak, the material used for expressive abhinaya frequently derives from songs and poetry related to the deity Krishna and his divine love with Radha, his consort. Historically, dancers' interpretations of this love blur lines between the devotional and the erotic, though as kathak has moved from the courts and salons to stages and recital halls, the devotional aspects tend to be emphasized and the erotic elements downplayed.

My final note here is percussive in nature. After all my talk about how pakhawaj generally gets overshadowed by tabla in accompanying kathak, the balance between Shakeel Ahmed Khan (tabla) and Mahaveer Gangani (pakhawaj) is commendable. Both instruments are audibly present in the mix, and each is given its moments to shine. Together they support the arc of the song and the ebbing and flowing of the dancer's physical intensity. I'm realizing I haven't provided any examples of the trend to which I keep referring, but they're out there. As of late, I've been watching a bunch of footage from the 1980s and the pakhawaj is barely audible in most of the recordings. Let's go ahead and consider these counterexamples.

April 22: Night Three

Tribhuwan Maharaj

Tribhuwan Maharaj, another grandchild of Birju Maharaj, opened the dancing on the final night of the festival. In these clips, one of his two tabla accompanists (on the right as we look at the stage) was his father, Jai Kishan Maharaj. As I'm sure you're noticing by now, Vasantotsava was a family affair for the Maharajs. And why not when hereditary professional dancers comprise the majority of your family? The second tabla player in the clips is Ram Vishwakarma. It is relatively uncommon to see two tabla accompanists playing simultaneously, though it happened several times throughout the festival, and twice on night three. The way they orchestrate it here, with Jai Kishan's tabla tuned lower, works well. The two drummers aren't stepping all over each other in frequency space. To that end, they also adopt different roles in the performance. Ram Vishwakarma holds the theka during the padhant and assumes the role of primary accompanist. Then when they play simultaneously, the low tabla sits in the mix more like a pakhawaj, reinforcing the tabla without interfering. In addition to playing tabla, Jai Kishan recites padhant to introduce the first composition and continues to recite while playing accompaniment on subsequent compositions. The second clip ends with a jugalbandi between Ram Vishwakarma and Tribhuwan. The dancer leads the sawaal-jawaab and the tabla follows. Jai Kishan claps the taal to keep the melodic accompanists locked in before joining on tabla for the climactic tihai. Like his father, Birju Maharaj, Jai Kishan is primarily a dancer but also trained as a percussionist. In the world of kathak, the two skills reinforce one another. 

Saswati Sen

Saswati Sen, who spent most of the weekend running the show, closed out the festival on Friday night. One of Birju Maharaj's most senior disciples, Sen has toured the world extensively and is a renowned figure in the international kathak community. At 68, she still actively teaches and performs in addition to handling a good deal of Kalashram's day-to-day affairs. Word has it, she and Birju Maharaj-ji were once lovers, though it's really none of my business either way. This clip shows Sen's expressive dance to yet another song about Krishna. The singer is Anirban Bhattacharya, who has been instrumental in helping me make connections in Delhi, including introducing me to Utpal Ghoshal, the tabla player on our right. Ghoshal, who is on staff at Kalashram as an accompanist, performed each night of the festival. This recording got cut short be several seconds by an unexpected slip on the finger. Forgive me. You didn't miss much.

I'll leave you with a clip of Saswati Sen playing a courtesan in the Lucknow court of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah, taken from Satyajit Ray's 1977 classic film, Shatranj ke Khilari (The Chess Players). Sen dances to music composed by Birju Maharaj, himself a descendant of the courtly milieu the film depicts. I have no grand conclusion to tie up the loose ends, but somehow this scene puts it all in perspective for me.