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Atul Kumar is a promising Kathak dancer from Punjab! Trained under gurus, Dr. Daisy Waliah and Indira Bali of Jaipur school of Kathak and guru pandita Malti Shayam of Lucknow gharana lineage Atul transformed in to the flavours of both repertoire! He now takes his traning with Sudip Chakraborty to learn the theatrical techniques and choreography. Over the period of ten years of being with Kathak Atul explored different areas of choreographic nuances and worked with different productions to achieve creative excellence.
RTN 107: Gender, Pedagogy, and Self-Interpretation in Kathak
RTN 107: Gender, Pedagogy, and Self-Interpretation in Kathak
In this conversation, the interviewee reflects on his journey into Kathak, his experiences as a male dancer within a dance form often perceived as feminine, and his understanding of artistic practice, pedagogy, and interpretation. The discussion reveals important insights into contemporary Kathak training, gendered perceptions within classical dance spaces, and the relationship between tradition and individual creativity.
The interviewee's entry into dance was not straightforward. Although he had artistic inclinations from childhood and was interested in dance and painting, he initially pursued Western and contemporary dance forms due to social expectations and peer pressure. His decision reflects a broader cultural environment in which classical dance, particularly Kathak, is often associated with femininity, making it a less socially acceptable choice for young men. Despite spending several years learning and teaching Western dance, he felt disconnected from it and eventually abandoned a more conventional educational trajectory, including engineering studies, in search of a vocation that felt meaningful.
His eventual encounter with Kathak emerged almost accidentally. While initially interested in learning Odissi, he entered a program where Kathak was available and gradually developed a profound connection with the form. Significantly, he acknowledges that his early perception of Kathak was shaped by its reputation as a feminine and female-dominated art form. However, prolonged engagement with the tradition transformed this understanding, leading him to identify Kathak as his artistic home.
One of the most significant themes of the interview is the interviewee's critique of gendered classifications within classical dance. He argues that many distinctions between "male" and "female" forms of performance are constructed not by audiences but by practitioners and artistic communities themselves. According to him, dancers, musicians, and teachers often reinforce ideas that particular styles, costumes, gharanas, or performance approaches are inherently masculine or feminine. He illustrates this by referring to common assumptions within Kathak circles. Certain aesthetic choices, such as performing in a particular costume or specializing in specific gharanas, are often associated with masculinity or femininity. Yet he notes that ordinary audiences are largely unaware of such distinctions. For most spectators, dance remains simply dance. The gendered frameworks emerge primarily from within artistic communities, where performance practices are repeatedly categorized and labelled.
This critique leads him to articulate a broader philosophy of art. He insists that art is fundamentally about exploration, questioning, and creation rather than conformity. In his view, the act of assigning rigid gender identities to artistic practices contradicts the very nature of artistic expression. Art should provide a space where individuals are free to experiment and embody multiple perspectives rather than being constrained by social expectations.
The interview also explores questions of character portrayal and performance. When discussing the representation of female characters by male dancers, the interviewee emphasizes that successful performance depends not on the performer's gender but on their ability to embody the essence of the character. Whether portraying Radha, Hidimba, Kaikeyi, Shabari, or any other figure, the dancer's responsibility is to preserve the emotional and aesthetic core of the role.
This emphasis on essence rather than identity reflects a classical understanding of performance in which the transmission of rasa is central. The performer is not expected merely to imitate external characteristics but to communicate the emotional and philosophical qualities of the character. For the interviewee, the audience's experience of rasa becomes the ultimate measure of success.
A related discussion concerns audience judgment and gender bias in performance evaluation. While he acknowledges that women often receive attention because of culturally embedded notions of beauty and femininity, he argues that genuine connoisseurs of art—or rasikas—should evaluate performances based on artistic merit rather than gender. He observes that male dancers may sometimes portray female characters more convincingly than women, just as female dancers may successfully perform male roles. Artistic quality, rather than biological identity, should remain the primary criterion of evaluation. Another important theme emerging from the interview is pedagogy and the transmission of knowledge. The interviewee describes his own training as highly traditional. Students were generally expected to follow the guru's instructions without extensive questioning. Learning involved absorbing compositions, stories, and choreographies as they were taught, often through imitation and repetition.
However, he identifies a distinction between learning and understanding. While traditional pedagogy provided him with a foundation, he argues that genuine artistic growth begins only when students start engaging critically with what they have inherited. The transition from imitation to interpretation becomes a crucial stage in artistic development.
This perspective is illustrated through his reflections on Krishna and the flute. During the COVID-19 period, he began writing poetry and engaging more deeply with questions that emerged from his training. Rather than accepting established narratives, he began asking alternative questions. If Krishna were separated from the flute, would he still be recognized in the same way? What role does the flute play in constructing Krishna's identity? What if the flute itself were imagined as a person capable of speaking and questioning Krishna?
These reflections eventually led to the creation of a poetic and choreographic work centred on the figure of the flute. The example demonstrates how inherited material can become a starting point for new interpretations. Rather than rejecting tradition, the interviewee reimagines it through contemporary questioning. This process reveals an important understanding of creativity within classical traditions. Innovation is not presented as a break from tradition but as a dialogue with it. Traditional stories, symbols, and narratives remain intact, yet they become sites for new inquiry and personal reflection. The guru provides the foundation, but the artist must eventually construct their own relationship to the material.
Overall, the interview presents Kathak not merely as a dance form but as an intellectual and philosophical practice. The interviewee challenges gendered assumptions about performance, advocates for artistic freedom beyond rigid classifications, and emphasizes the importance of self-reflection within traditional training systems. His reflections suggest that classical dance is not simply the preservation of inherited forms but an ongoing process of interpretation, questioning, and meaning-making.
The conversation therefore offers valuable insight into how contemporary practitioners negotiate the relationship between tradition and individuality, gender and performance, authority and creativity. It highlights the continuing relevance of classical dance as a space where artistic identities are continually being reimagined and redefined.
rtn108: Transcript of Interview with Atul
rtn108: Transcript of Interview with Atul
Nirav: Hi, good afternoon. Hello, am I audible?
Interviewee: Yeah, a bit.
Nirav: Okay, how are you?
Interviewee: I'm good, good. How are you?
Nirav: I'm fine, thank you for joining.
Before we begin, I'd like to give you a quick introduction to my organization so that you have some context about the interview.
Would you prefer that we speak in English, or are you comfortable with both Hindi and English?
Interviewee: Both, I'm okay with both.
Nirav: Great. Relearning the Nautch, which is the name of my organization, is an independent archival and research initiative focused on hereditary performance traditions across South Asia. The term "nautch" was historically used by the British to describe a wide range of dance and performance traditions in India.
Through this project, I'm interested in documenting the histories, memories, and contemporary perceptions surrounding these traditions and the communities associated with them. As part of this work, I conduct interviews with dancers, scholars, artists, and practitioners from different performance backgrounds to better understand their experiences and perspectives.
So far, I have spoken with Odissi, Bharatanatyam, Kuchipudi, and Kathak practitioners, among others. That's a brief overview of the project.
So, let's begin. Could you tell us a little about your journey as a Kathak dancer?
Interviewee: Well, from my childhood itself, I was interested in dance, painting, and the arts. But I never imagined that dance would become my career. In fact, I never expected that if I entered the field of dance, I would eventually become a Kathak dancer.
When I was in the seventh grade, I wanted to learn a classical dance form. However, because of peer pressure and concerns about what people might think, I ended up joining a Western dance class instead. I trained there for about four years, learning and teaching Western and contemporary dance at the same time.
But although I was doing it successfully, I never felt a real connection with it. I was learning and performing, but it always felt like I was doing it simply for the sake of doing it.
Later, during my board examination years, I stopped dancing for a while. After my exams, I began teaching again. Around the same time, I also appeared for the JEE engineering entrance examination and qualified for it. However, I never went ahead with the counseling process because I felt that engineering wasn't really where I belonged.
While exploring different options, I came across APJ College in Jalandhar, which offered programs in the performing arts. I visited and spoke with one of the teachers there regarding admission. She advised me that instead of joining APJ College, I should consider the Department of Dance at Punjabi University.
So I eventually took admission there. Since the degree was a Bachelor's in Classical Dance, I initially hoped to study Odissi because it was relatively rare in Punjab. However, Kathak was the option available.
At first, I saw Kathak as a very feminine and female-dominated classical art form, and I wasn't entirely sure whether it was for me. But over time, I completely fell in love with it and found a genuine connection with the form.
Later, I joined Kathak Kendra and received training under Guru Malti Shyam. After that, I continued my training with Shri Sudip Chakravorty. Even today, I continue learning from both my gurus while also working on my own artistic ideas and practice.
Nirav: Beautiful. If you had the opportunity now, would you still want to learn Odissi?
Interviewee: One of my friends is an Odissi dancer, and I have actually tried learning it. But what I realized was that even when I was dancing Odissi, I was somehow still dancing Kathak.
My friend noticed this too and told me, "Let it be, you're already good at Kathak." That made me think that it's better to master one thing rather than become a jack of all trades.
That said, I truly love Odissi. I especially love its music. There is something deeply divine about it. I enjoy watching it immensely, even if I don't pursue it as a performer myself.
Nirav: Also, as you mentioned, Kathak is often perceived as a feminine and female-dominated dance form. What kinds of stereotypes or expectations did you encounter as a male dancer?
Interviewee: Well, what I feel is that artists themselves have made art gender-specific. I'm not talking about common people or those outside the arts. I'm talking about dancers, musicians, and people within artistic circles.
We have created classifications such as "this is a female dance" or "this is a male dance." People say things like, if a male dancer wears a dhoti-kurta or a bandi, he appears more masculine. Or that if a man performs the Lucknow gharana, he may appear more feminine, while performing the Jaipur gharana makes him seem more masculine.
The funny thing is that ordinary audiences don't even know what the Lucknow gharana or Jaipur gharana is. For them, it's simply dance.
We are the ones who have created these distinctions. We label things and create expectations, saying that a girl should dance in a certain way and a boy should dance in another.
Personally, I don't think dance was ever meant to be gender-centric. Art is simply art. Art has always been about questioning, exploring, and expanding boundaries.
Once we begin tying art to rigid notions of masculinity and femininity, I feel we move away from what art truly represents. An artist should be free to express, rather than confined within predefined categories.
I mean, art has always been about questioning, exploring, and building new possibilities. Once we start tying it to rigid ideas of gender, masculinity, or femininity, I don't think that reflects the mindset of an artist.
An artist should be concerned with expression and creativity rather than fitting into predefined categories. When we begin saying that a particular dance form is only for men or only for women, we limit the very freedom that art is meant to embody.
Interviewee: I mean, the character must become a mirror of you, right? You cannot remain yourself all the time while performing. You have to justify the character.
Whether it is Radha, Hidimba, Kaikeyi, or even Shabari, the essence of the character should remain intact. A woman character is a woman character, but what matters most is that the essence of that character does not die in performance.
The audience should receive that essence and experience the rasa. That is what is important.
Nirav: Beautifully said.
When we think about dancers on stage, do you feel that male and female dancers are judged differently by audiences?
Interviewee: Well, it depends.
Women have traditionally been glorified in our stories, scriptures, and cultural imagination. Naturally, beauty often becomes a point of appreciation on stage as well.
However, if someone is truly a rasika—someone who genuinely understands and appreciates art—they should not approach a performance with gender bias. They should evaluate the art itself.
Sometimes a male dancer performs a female character more convincingly than a female dancer. Similarly, a female dancer may portray a male character more effectively than a male dancer.
Ultimately, it is the strength of the art that matters, not the gender of the performer. If you have artistic sensitivity and an understanding of aesthetics, you judge the quality of the performance, not whether the artist is male or female.
Nirav: Let's move towards history for a moment. In classical dance spaces, we often focus on learning movements and compositions. But history is also an important part of dance education.
In your experience, under your gurus, how was the history of Kathak taught alongside the practice of dance?
Interviewee: I learned Kathak in a very traditional way.
In those days, we did not ask many questions of our gurus. If we were given a bhajan, we learned the story, the context, and the choreography, and we performed it. Most students simply try to imitate their gurus.
But the real journey begins when you start thinking independently about what you have learned.
After completing my formal studies, especially during the COVID period, I began writing more seriously. One of the things I reflected upon was the figure of Krishna.
Everyone speaks about Radha and Krishna. Krishna is described as divine, beloved, and extraordinary. But one question came to my mind: if Krishna did not have the flute in his hands, who would he be?
Perhaps he would simply be an ordinary man. Perhaps he would be a deity we could not recognize. Perhaps he would become someone entirely different.
That made me think about how a simple object—the flute—becomes central to Krishna's identity.
Then another thought emerged. What if the flute itself were a person? What if it were a sakhi, a companion? What questions would it ask Krishna? What kind of conversation would exist between them?
For me, this is where learning becomes meaningful. Whatever you learn from your guru becomes a foundation. But eventually, self-realization must happen.
You have to ask: What is my own perspective? What do I understand from this story? What does this mean to me?
That process is very important.
These reflections eventually led me to write a poem called Vanshuri (The Flute), which I later choreographed. Both of my gurus also choreographed versions of this piece.
So, for me, that is the essence of learning. You may learn from anyone, but ultimately you must discover your own understanding and your own voice within the tradition.
RTN 109: QUESTIONS OF SEMI STRUCTURED INTERVIEW
RTN 109: QUESTIONS OF SEMI STRUCTURED INTERVIEW
Could you tell us about your journey as a Kathak dancer?
If you had the opportunity now, would you still like to learn Odissi?
You mentioned that Kathak is often perceived as a feminine and female-dominated dance form. What kinds of stereotypes, expectations, or challenges did you encounter as a male dancer?
When portraying female characters in Kathak, how do you approach embodying those roles? Do you think gender affects the way a character is performed?
Do you think male and female dancers are judged differently by audiences when they perform on stage?
In classical dance training, movement and technique are taught, but history is also important. How was the history of Kathak taught to you during your training?
How did your gurus introduce historical, cultural, or narrative contexts alongside dance practice?
At what point does a dancer move beyond imitation and begin developing their own interpretation of a tradition?
How do personal reflection and self-realization shape your artistic practice?
Can you tell us about the creative process behind your work on Krishna and the flute (Bansuri/Vanshuri) and how it emerged from your engagement with tradition?
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