As part of the Relearning the Nautch project, we spoke with Ansh, a young Kathak practitioner of the Lucknow Gharana, about his journey into dance, his engagement with Kathak's history, and the ways in which gender, memory, and artistic practice continue to shape the form today. Although Ansh has been connected to dance for much of his life, his path into formal Kathak training has been somewhat unconventional, revealing the many ways artistic knowledge can develop both inside and outside institutional spaces.
When discussing his training, Ansh explained that while he had not received formal Kathak instruction throughout childhood, dance had always been present in his life. Long before entering a structured learning environment, he spent years performing, experimenting, and cultivating his interest independently. Recognizing this passion, his family encouraged him to pursue formal training. It was only in class 11, when he selected Kathak as an optional subject, that he began systematic instruction. Reflecting on this journey, he remarked, "I haven't formally learned Kathak since childhood, but I've always performed on my own. My family noticed my interest in dance and encouraged me to learn formally. This year, I took Kathak as my optional subject, so this is my first year of proper learning. However, I've been practicing roughly for 11 years."
His account challenges assumptions about how dancers are formed. Rather than emerging exclusively through formal pedagogy, artistic identities are often shaped through observation, experimentation, repetition, and personal commitment. In Ansh's case, years of self driven engagement with movement preceded institutional recognition, suggesting that dance education frequently extends beyond the classroom.
A significant part of the conversation focused on the experience of being a male dancer in contemporary society. Ansh spoke candidly about the social pressures he encountered while growing up. Dance, particularly for boys, often remains entangled with restrictive ideas about gender, and he described how this shaped his childhood experiences.
"I faced many obligations in my childhood of being called feminine or gay. It was painful to live in a society where dance is often seen negatively. But my mother always supported me, and when I dance, I forget everything and just indulge in my art."
The emotional weight of this reflection points toward broader questions about masculinity and performance. For many young male dancers, artistic practice becomes not only a form of creative expression but also a site where social expectations are negotiated and challenged. Despite these difficulties, Ansh's relationship with dance remained resilient. Over time, he came to reject the notion that artistic expression should be constrained by gendered expectations.
"Over time, I realized that dance is art, and art has no gender. I portray both female and male characters with full enthusiasm, without any guilt or shame."
This perspective resonates strongly with Kathak's own performance traditions, which have long involved fluid acts of storytelling, characterization, and embodiment. Through abhinaya, dancers routinely inhabit multiple identities, emotions, and perspectives. Ansh's reflections suggest an understanding of performance that prioritizes artistic expression over rigid social categories.
The conversation also explored questions of historical knowledge and memory. When asked about the place of Nautch dancers and Tawaifs within his understanding of Kathak history, Ansh explained that these topics formed part of what he encountered during his lessons. He described learning about the lives of Tawaifs, their social circumstances, and their contributions to the development of the form.
"During my Kathak lessons, I learned about the Tawaifs, their origins, living standards, and their role in Kathak history. Kathak became popular in the Mughal era, evolving from temple performances to entertainment in kingdoms. Tawaifs played a crucial role in this history."
What stood out in his response was not only an acknowledgment of their historical significance but also a recognition of the ways these performers have been marginalized within dominant narratives. When asked about their treatment in history, Ansh responded directly:
"Yes, they were treated very badly. They were erased from history books. A dancer, an artist, was often displayed in demeaning ways. But Kathak is art, and art can be acknowledged by anyone."
His remarks reflect an awareness that the history of Kathak cannot be separated from the histories of the communities that shaped it. They also point toward an ongoing tension within contemporary discourse, where certain aspects of the form's past are celebrated while others remain uncomfortable or insufficiently discussed.
When the conversation turned toward contemporary Kathak education, Ansh emphasized the importance of historical understanding. For him, students should know not only technique and repertoire but also the significance of the traditions they inherit. At the same time, he expressed concern about the ways Kathak is sometimes perceived by younger generations and wider audiences.
"People think Kathak is old fashioned, maybe. Authenticity is required more."
Although brief, this observation raises important questions about preservation, adaptation, and cultural value. What does authenticity mean in a changing world? How do practitioners balance innovation with continuity? While Ansh did not elaborate extensively, his response reflects concerns shared by many dancers navigating the relationship between tradition and modernity.
Toward the end of the discussion, Ansh was asked whether contemporary Kathak primarily carries the memories of those whose stories are usually highlighted within mainstream narratives. His response was concise: "Something else."
Though brief, the statement is intriguing. It suggests an awareness that Kathak may contain histories, memories, and inheritances that extend beyond the narratives most commonly told. Whether consciously or unconsciously, dancers engage with traces of many pasts, some celebrated, some forgotten, and some still waiting to be fully acknowledged.
Ansh's reflections reveal Kathak not simply as a classical dance form but as a space where questions of identity, memory, history, and artistic freedom continue to unfold. His experiences illustrate how contemporary practitioners negotiate inherited traditions while also confronting present social realities. They remind us that dance is never only about movement. It is also about the stories dancers tell, the histories they inherit, the silences they encounter, and the meanings they create through performance.
As part of RTN's Performer Voices and Oral Histories initiative, this conversation contributes to a growing archive of practitioner perspectives. Such interviews offer valuable insight not only into the technical study of dance but also into the lived experiences that shape artistic practice. Through voices like Ansh's, we gain a richer understanding of Kathak as both a historical tradition and a living, evolving art.
RTN: My first question is about your training. For how many years have you been practicing Kathak?
Ansh: Basically, I am a born dancer, in simple words. I was not learning Kathak formally from childhood, but I always used to perform on my own without any formal teaching. My family noticed my interest in dance and encouraged me to learn properly. This year, I took Kathak as my optional subject in Class 11, so this is my first year of formal training. But I have been dancing since childhood, roughly for about 11 years.
RTN: I see. And I suppose you belong to the Lucknow Gharana?
Ansh: Yes, I do.
RTN: As a male practitioner, how has your experience been? Have there been moments when you felt both feminine and masculine energies within your performance?
Ansh: As a male dancer, I faced many difficulties in my childhood. People would call me feminine or gay. It is painful to live in a society where dance is often viewed negatively. But my mother always supported me. Whenever I dance, I forget everything and simply immerse myself in my art.
As I grew older, my perspective changed. I realized that dance is an art, and art has no gender. I portray both female and male characters in my performances with full enthusiasm and without any guilt or shame. There is nothing wrong in that. My dance journey has been difficult, but my ambitions and dreams have always been stronger than society's negativity.
RTN: Are you familiar with Nautch history and the history of Tawaifs?
Ansh: Yes, I am.
RTN: How were Nautch dancers discussed, or perhaps avoided, during your Kathak education?
Ansh: During my Kathak lessons, I learned about the Tawaifs, their origins, their living conditions, and their role in the history of Kathak. I learned how Kathak became popular during the Mughal period and how it transformed from a religious practice associated with temples into a form of entertainment in royal courts and kingdoms. Tawaifs played a very important role in that history.
RTN: Do you think Tawaifs were treated unfairly?
Ansh: Yes, very unfairly. They were forgotten in history books. A dancer, an artist, was often portrayed in very degrading ways. But Kathak is an art, and art can be acknowledged and practiced by anyone.
RTN: Do you think contemporary Kathak training meaningfully acknowledges its Nautch lineage, or does it avoid speaking about it?
Ansh: In my institution, they are discussed as artists.
RTN: Why do you think Tawaifs were removed from history books, and why are discussions about them often limited or disrespectful?
Ansh: Because society never fully accepted dance as an art. People often saw it as something negative. Even today, if someone dances, they may be called "nachaniya." Tawaifs were artists, but after the Mughal period many of them were also associated with prostitution, which created a negative image of them in society.
RTN: Is there anything about Kathak that you think students and young practitioners should definitely know?
Ansh: Its history and significance.
RTN: Is there anything within Kathak that people still avoid talking about today? If so, why?
Ansh: People sometimes think Kathak is old fashioned. Maybe that is one reason. Also, I feel authenticity is required more.
RTN: If we think of Kathak as a form of memory, whose memories do you think contemporary Kathak carries?
A. The memories people want to celebrate
B. The lineage of Tawaifs and Kathakars
C. Colonial and British influences
D. Something else
Ansh: Something else.
RTN: Thank you, Ansh, for contributing to this project. May we feature this interview on our website and in our journal?
Ansh: Yes, sure. Why not?
RTN: Thank you. It was wonderful speaking with you.
Ansh: Thank you.
Note: A transcript of this interview was added to the Relearning the Nautch archive at a later date. The interview itself was conducted earlier through text messages and voice notes, and was subsequently transcribed for archival purposes.