Performance, Repertoire & Embodied Knowledge

"The usual orchestra for a Nautch dancer consists of a drummer who uses two drums, called tapla, tuned high and low, two men who play stringed instruments called “sarangis,” and one who plays a pair of small bell-like cymbals. The orchestra plays a long introduction during which the dancer stands waiting in the manner of a singer with a pianist “vamping until ready.” Bachwa Jan during this introduction wound around her white stockinged ankles a long rope on which had been threaded many bronze bells, the two strings of bells we were told weighing over twenty pounds. Then she raised her arms, the right one shoulder high, the other above her head, the fingers placed very carefully in what looked to me the old Gilbert school type of ballet hands, and there she stood. Occasionally the fingers quivered, there was an almost imperceptible pulse in her whole body, her gaze was fixed and glassy, and now and then one eyebrow lifted. After nearly three whole minutes of this she re-laxed and bowed—this was the first dance or movement and the Mohammedan gentlemen present applauded vociferously, as we did after the idea dawned upon us that applause was expected for that static performance. The second movement had more pulse in the body, visible more distinctly in the shoulders. Slowly she began tapping one foot, making the ankle bells sound. Then without any warning whatever, she sprang into action, producing an explosion of beats with her feet like a bunch of firecrackers, while her hands described rapid but deft circles over her head, her whole body turning completely around now this way, now that. This rapid movement finished as suddenly as it began, and she bowed again to rapturous applause. In her third movement, having placed her arms in the same opening position, she walked forward the whole length of the room, so smoothly that we heard not one single tinkle out of the twenty pounds of bells, then with a simple beating step she worked gradually back to her starting point, and bowed again. Her fourth movement consisted of tapping, slightly but distinctly, alternating feet, hands on hips while she gradually lowered herself to a kneeling position. The hips swayed in a manner which forty years ago must have been seductive, and her head moved in an uncanny way from side to side as if having no relation to the body. This movement is common to all the Orient; I have seen it in North Africa, in Burma and elsewhere. And during this lowering process, very slow and very controlled, there was a veritable dance of the eyebrows, each eyebrow lifting alternately in time to the music."

SEE FOR CONTEXT RTN O47 PG NO. 88,89,90

ANALYTICAL NOTE

This entry presents a close reading of a colonial description of performance that, despite its lack of technical vocabulary, preserves a remarkably precise account of Kathak repertoire structure. The observer’s narrative unfolds through a sequence of clearly demarcated “movements,” which correspond closely to established components of hereditary Kathak performance, including thaat, uthaan, aamad, chakkar, gat nikas, and abhinaya.

The opening orchestral introduction establishes the rhythmic and performative framework, functioning as a preparatory phase in which taal is internalized and audience attention is calibrated. This is followed by an extended moment of stillness marked by controlled posture, minimal gesture, and subtle bodily pulsation, an exact rendering of thaat, where aesthetic authority is asserted through restraint rather than movement. The gradual emergence of footwork signals the transition into uthaan, culminating in an abrupt and forceful rhythmic entry that aligns with aamad, characterized by the assertive articulation of tatkar.

Subsequent descriptions of rapid spinning and circular hand movements correspond to chakkar, demonstrating spatial command and rhythmic precision, while the striking account of silent forward locomotion, where the ghungroo produce no audible sound, indicates an advanced execution of gat nikas. This moment is particularly significant, as it foregrounds muscular control and the deliberate suspension of percussion, challenging assumptions that equate the form solely with rhythmic display. The final shift toward facial articulation, especially the rhythmic movement of eyebrows, marks the transition into abhinaya, where expression is embedded within micro-gesture and subtle synchronization with musical tempo.

What emerges is not a fragmented or improvisational performance, but a highly structured and sequential repertoire. The colonial observer, while unable to name these components, nonetheless documents them with sufficient detail to reveal the internal logic of the form. This disjunction between description and understanding is critical. It demonstrates how colonial spectatorship often translated complex performance traditions into spectacle or curiosity, even as it inadvertently recorded their technical sophistication.

Within the context of the archive, this passage is significant not only for the repertoire it preserves but for the epistemic tension it exposes. It reveals how hereditary performers operated within codified systems of movement, rhythm, and expression, even as their practices were reframed through external interpretive frameworks that obscured their formal rigor. The entry thus functions as both evidence of Kathak’s structured repertoire and a record of the limits of colonial perception in apprehending embodied knowledge.