This conversation offers a fascinating perspective on what it means to encounter, learn, and embody an Indian classical dance form from outside its immediate cultural context. Speaking with an Odissi practitioner originally from England, who began her dance journey in Spain and now regularly trains in India, the discussion traversed questions of pedagogy, history, spirituality, cultural belonging, and the place of historical inquiry within contemporary dance practice.
Her journey into Odissi began unexpectedly. Having initially trained in Kathak while living in Barcelona, she attended an Odissi performance almost by chance. Witnessing her future teacher perform Shiva Panchaka left a profound impression on her. What she describes is not simply admiration for technical skill, but a transformative aesthetic experience—one that convinced her that learning this dance form would become an important part of her life.
Since then, she has spent over a decade studying Odissi, primarily under Patricia Salgado, whose training lineage traces back to Padma Shri Guru Gangadhar Pradhan and the Konark Natya Mandap tradition. More recently, she has supplemented her training through study in India with teachers in Bhubaneswar and Bangalore, seeking both continuity within a lineage and broader exposure to different pedagogical approaches.
A recurring theme throughout the conversation was the nature of learning itself. Unlike institutional narratives that often portray mastery as an endpoint, she emphasized continual learning and self-reflection. Practice, for her, is largely solitary. While classes and rehearsals provide structure, much of her engagement with the dance happens alone through repetition, bodily experimentation, note-taking, and independent study. This highlights an often-overlooked aspect of classical dance training: the countless hours of personal labour that occur outside formal classrooms.
The discussion also revealed how technical training and historical understanding frequently exist in separate domains. Within her own practice, technique occupies much of the studio space, while historical and theoretical exploration takes place through books, research, and conversations. This separation is significant because it reflects a broader tendency within many classical dance institutions where performance skills often receive greater emphasis than critical engagement with history.
One of the most compelling parts of the interview concerned the historical foundations of Odissi itself. Unlike narratives that present classical dance solely through guru lineages and institutional histories, the conversation acknowledged the contributions of communities such as the Maharis and Gotipuas. These performers occupied positions outside contemporary institutional frameworks yet played crucial roles in shaping the traditions that would later be reconstructed as classical dance.
The dancer described encountering Mahari histories through both her teachers and independent reading. What fascinated her most was the partial invisibility of these histories. Unlike contemporary dance traditions where choreography and performance can be documented and archived, much of what the Maharis practised remains inaccessible. This absence creates both a challenge and a curiosity: how do we understand traditions when their practitioners have left only fragmented traces?
For her, discovering the Maharis deepened rather than complicated her relationship with Odissi. Learning that the dance was rooted in devotional practices and embodied forms of worship helped explain her own attraction to the form. The connection between spirituality, aesthetics, and movement became more meaningful when situated within these broader historical contexts.
Questions of cultural translation also emerged repeatedly. As a non-Indian practitioner, she acknowledged that certain gestures, movements, and emotional expressions arise from cultural contexts that cannot always be fully replicated through technical training alone. Expressions of devotion, ritual practices, and subtle bodily habits often require observation, imagination, and ongoing learning.
Rather than viewing this as an insurmountable barrier, however, she approaches it as a process of continual engagement. Travel to India, interactions with teachers, observation of ritual practices, and conversations with practitioners all become part of learning. Imagination itself, she argues, plays a crucial role in bridging cultural distance. While one may never completely inhabit another cultural experience, sincere effort and sustained curiosity create pathways toward understanding.
The interview also raised important questions about spirituality within classical dance. Should dance forms such as Odissi be approached primarily as devotional practices, or should they be understood through historical, social, and contemporary frameworks as well?
Her response resisted simple binaries. While she deeply values the spiritual dimensions of Odissi, she also believes that the form should remain accessible to individuals who engage with it differently. Devotion may be central to the dance's history, but contemporary practitioners bring diverse beliefs, identities, and motivations into their practice. Rather than insisting on a single mode of engagement, she advocates for coexistence between spiritual, artistic, and historical interpretations.
This openness extends to her understanding of teaching. Although she hopes to teach in the future, she approaches the prospect with humility, recognizing the responsibilities involved in transmitting a tradition that originates outside her own cultural background. For her, teaching would involve not only movement instruction but also helping students develop bodily awareness, patience, discipline, and curiosity.
The conversation concluded with reflections on cultural belonging. While she acknowledges moments where certain movements or bodily habits feel distinctly Indian, she nevertheless feels deeply connected to the culture through music, ritual, community, and practice. Odissi has become a space in which cultural difference does not disappear but becomes a site of meaningful engagement.
Reflecting on Relearning the Nautch, she emphasized the importance of archival initiatives that create space for alternative histories and underrepresented voices. Institutional narratives often privilege particular perspectives, while many performers, traditions, and histories remain marginal to dominant accounts. Projects dedicated to documenting these stories therefore play an important role not only in preserving history but also in expanding the conversations through which dance continues to evolve.
Ultimately, this interview reveals classical dance not as a static inheritance but as an ongoing dialogue between bodies, histories, cultures, and imaginations. Through practice, research, and reflection, tradition becomes not simply something one receives, but something one continually learns to inhabit.
In this conversation, Relearning the Nautch speaks with an Odissi practitioner originally from England, who began her dance journey in Spain and now regularly trains in India. Having first encountered Indian classical dance through Kathak and later devoting herself to Odissi, she offers a unique perspective on learning, embodiment, cultural translation, spirituality, and the historical foundations of the form.
The conversation explores questions of training, Mahari histories, lineage, performance, devotion, and what it means to inhabit a classical dance tradition from outside its immediate cultural context.
Before we begin, could you tell us how you first encountered Odissi?
I was learning Kathak in Barcelona at the time. We had just completed a small performance with live musicians, including a sitar player, and the experience was so wonderful that I began searching for more Indian classical dance opportunities in the city.
While looking online, I came across an Odissi school. I had never heard of Odissi before, but they were presenting their annual performance the following week, so I attended. When I saw my teacher dancing Shiva Panchaka, I was completely mesmerized. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
I remember thinking to myself that I had to learn this dance. If I could one day make someone in the audience feel the way she had made me feel, that alone would be enough.
So your journey began with Kathak before moving into Odissi?
Yes, exactly.
Could you tell us about your training and the teachers you have studied with?
Most of my training has been under Patricia Salgado at Gungur Arts in Barcelona. She trained with Padma Shri Guru Gangadhar Pradhan at Konark Natya Mandap and would regularly travel to India for further study.
I spent around ten years training primarily with her. Last year I came to India for the first time and attended courses with Bijayini Satpathy, Sarita Mishra, and Rekha Tandon. I also traveled to Bhubaneswar and studied with Prasanta Kumar Sahu and teachers connected to the lineage of Guru Gangadhar Pradhan.
I continue returning to India because I want to remain connected to the lineage from which my teacher learned, while also broadening my perspective through exposure to different approaches and pedagogies.
How does your practice look when you're living in Europe?
When I was in Spain, I attended two classes each week and practiced extensively on my own. Most of my practice is solitary.
I enjoy rehearsing with others when preparing for performances, but my personal relationship with dance happens alone. I need time to repeat movements, sit with them, and allow them to settle into my body.
I wouldn't describe myself as a natural dancer, so repetition has always been extremely important for me.
Within your practice, what receives the most attention: technique, repertoire, or theory?
In the studio, it is definitely technique.
The form was quite difficult for me initially, so much of my attention went toward understanding and embodying the movements. Repertoire also occupies a significant place, especially now that I am revisiting older choreographies and trying to deepen my understanding of them.
Theory tends to happen separately. I enjoy reading books, making notes, and studying dance history outside the studio environment.
Many classical dance forms are often presented through lineage-based histories. Yet in Odissi, performers such as the Maharis and Gotipuas occupy important positions beyond these institutional narratives. How did you first encounter these histories?
My teacher introduced us to the Maharis and Gotipuas, and I later pursued the subject through my own reading.
I read works by scholars such as Purnima Patnaik and Rekha Tandon, which helped me understand the historical foundations of the form.
What fascinates me most is how much remains unknown. We speak about the Maharis as foundational figures within Odissi's history, yet we know relatively little about how they actually danced. There is something both frustrating and compelling about that absence.
What drew you toward these histories?
Learning about the Maharis made me fall even more deeply in love with Odissi.
I was already interested in spirituality and philosophical traditions, and Odissi offered a way of engaging with those ideas through movement. When I began learning about Mahari traditions, devotion, and the centrality of śṛṅgāra within the form, many things suddenly made sense.
It helped me understand why I had been drawn to Odissi in the first place.
What kinds of pieces do you most enjoy performing?
Initially, I would have said abhinaya.
I love stories, emotions, and dramatic expression. That aspect came naturally to me.
Recently, however, I have begun enjoying pallavis and nṛtta much more. As my understanding of the form has deepened, I have developed a greater appreciation for abstraction and pure movement.
A lot depends on the music as well. Certain musical compositions simply make me want to dance.
When performing abhinaya, how do you approach emotions or experiences rooted in cultural contexts different from your own?
That is a difficult question.
Certain expressions—especially devotional ones—can feel distant initially because they emerge from traditions and practices I did not grow up with.
I try to approach them through research, observation, and imagination. Traveling in India has helped immensely. Watching rituals, visiting temples, observing how people move and express themselves—these experiences provide a deeper understanding than books alone.
Imagination also plays an important role. Even when I cannot fully access a particular cultural experience, I can search for something analogous within my own experience and build from there.
How open were your teachers to discussions about history, meaning, and cultural context?
Very open.
Initially, most of my attention was directed toward simply learning the form because it was so challenging. As I became more comfortable with the technique, I began asking more questions.
My teacher was always willing to discuss history, but she was also very honest about the limits of her own perspective. Since she herself was not Indian, she frequently directed students toward books, visiting teachers, and other sources.
There was a strong sense of collective learning within the community.
Do you think classical dance should primarily be understood as a devotional practice, or should it also be approached through historical and contemporary perspectives?
I think both are important.
One of the reasons I love Odissi is that it creates space for spiritual exploration. Even beyond questions of religion, there is something deeply spiritual about committing yourself to a practice over many years.
At the same time, I don't think people should be excluded if they engage with the dance differently. Some connect through devotion, some through aesthetics, some through history, and others through philosophy.
As long as these perspectives can coexist and remain in dialogue, I think the form becomes richer.
If you were to become a teacher, what aspects of dance would you emphasize?
I would probably begin with the body itself.
Because learning was difficult for me, I think I would enjoy working with beginners and helping people develop bodily awareness, patience, and confidence.
I would also introduce cultural and historical contexts, though I would always remain aware of my own limitations and encourage students to continue learning from teachers with deeper cultural connections to the form.
Do you ever feel disconnected from certain aspects of the dance because of cultural differences?
Sometimes.
Certain gestures, head movements, and bodily habits feel very natural to people who have grown up within Indian cultural contexts. For someone like me, they often require conscious effort.
Even things like flexibility and posture can be influenced by cultural habits. Many Indians spend much more time sitting cross-legged than people in Europe do.
Those differences are certainly present.
At the same time, do you feel connected to Indian culture through Odissi?
Absolutely.
I've always felt comfortable within Indian cultural spaces. The music, rituals, costumes, community, and philosophy all contribute to that feeling.
Odissi has become a place where I feel very much at home.
Finally, would you like to share a few thoughts about Relearning the Nautch?
I've found it fascinating.
Before coming across your project, I knew very little about the nautch tradition. What I appreciate is that it asks questions that often remain outside institutional conversations.
History is frequently told through particular voices and perspectives. Projects like this create space for different stories, different experiences, and different forms of knowledge.
Archival work is incredibly demanding, especially when driven purely by passion. It is wonderful to see someone taking the initiative to preserve, question, and share these histories.
I hope these conversations continue to grow, because there is still so much left to discover and understand.
This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and readability.
RTN 087: SEMI STRUCTURED INTERVIEW QUESTIONNAIRE
Can you describe how you first encountered Odissi?
Where and with whom did you train?
Is your training connected to a specific lineage or guru tradition? If yes, how is that communicated to you?
How often do you train/practice, and what does your riyaaz typically include?
In your training, how much emphasis is placed on:
technique
repertoire
theory or history
When you learn a piece, what kinds of explanations are given?
meanings of gestures?
story?
rhythm?
Are there things you perform or practice that you feel you understand physically, but not historically or conceptually?
What kinds of pieces do you usually perform? (e.g., pallavi, abhinaya, etc. — let her name them)
When performing abhinaya, how do you approach characters or emotions that come from a cultural context different from your own?
How does your teacher explain Odissi as a tradition?
Are you encouraged to ask questions about meaning, history, or context?
Do you feel connected to Indian culture through Odissi? How?
Are there moments where you feel like an outsider to the tradition?
Do you feel the need to learn more about its history or context? Why or why not?
If you were to teach someone else, what would you emphasize most?