Nirav: Before starting the interview, I would like to briefly introduce myself and my organization.

I'm Nirav, currently based in Dehradun, Uttarakhand, India. I'm also a Kathak dancer and currently a high school student. I started an initiative called Relearning the Nautch after becoming interested in hereditary performance traditions, including courtesan cultures and hereditary artists. As I explored these histories, I realized how deeply they were connected to Hindustani music and dance traditions, which inspired me to research them further.

As part of this initiative, I conduct interviews with dancers, musicians, scholars, and practitioners from various traditions, including Kathak, Bharatanatyam, Kuchipudi, and others.

Interviewee: That's really interesting.

Nirav: Thank you. So let's begin with your story. How did you encounter Kathak? What has your journey been like?

Interviewee: I've always loved dancing. In Pakistan, Kathak exists in a very different way than it does in India. It doesn't have the same level of institutional support or visibility.

One thing that surprised me was when you mentioned learning Kathak while still in school. I was fortunate because I attended a school where dance and the arts were taken seriously, and I was introduced to Kathak there from a very young age.

Later, I joined the National College of Arts, where I was studying Fine Arts. During the first year, the college regularly invited artists and practitioners from different fields to interact with students. Among those invited were Naheed Siddiqui and Bina Jawad.

That experience reignited my interest in Kathak.

In my second year, around 2018, I started training with Naheed Siddiqui along with a friend. Later, because she was based in the UK and eventually moved back there, I had to continue learning independently. I relied heavily on archives, recordings, and whatever resources I could find online.

That was challenging because there isn't a large amount of material available, and much of what exists is old, low-resolution, or difficult to access.

Around 2020, Rahman Sahib returned to Pakistan for a period, and I was able to train with him intensively. Since then, whenever dancers or teachers visit Pakistan or conduct workshops, I try to learn from them. Eventually, I also began training with Bina Jawad, and I continue learning from her today.

So it has been a long journey. Because Kathak doesn't exist at a strong institutional level in Pakistan, dancers often have to navigate their own paths and figure things out independently.

Nirav: That's beautiful. Despite all the challenges you've described, watching your performances online was truly inspiring. They were absolutely beautiful.

Interviewee: Thank you so much.

Nirav: When we talk about Kathak in Pakistan, it is important to remember that historically the form drew from both Hindu and Muslim cultural traditions. However, after Independence, especially in India, Kathak increasingly came to be framed as a Hindu classical dance through nationalist revival movements.

Does a similar perception exist in Pakistan?

Interviewee: Sorry, could you repeat the last part of the question?

Nirav: I wanted to ask whether Kathak is perceived as a Hindu dance form in Pakistan as well.

Interviewee: To some extent, yes.

There is a perception among some people that Kathak is primarily a Hindu dance and therefore not really part of "our" history. However, I think this perception comes largely from a lack of awareness.

Historically, we were all part of the same region, and Kathak belongs to a shared cultural history. Unfortunately, there hasn't been enough public education about the form, and the state has not done enough to encourage people to understand its history or move beyond the stigma sometimes attached to it.

Because of that, awareness remains limited.

We know about the gharana system in Kathak. After Partition, Baba Maharaj Ghulam Hussain migrated to Pakistan. He had trained under Achhan Maharaj and initially settled in Karachi before moving to Lahore.

There, he began teaching students such as Naheed Siddiqui, Bina Jawad, and others. Through this process, what came to be known as the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana emerged.

The Lahore-Lucknow Gharana shares many similarities with the Lucknow Gharana in India because its roots originate there. However, it also developed its own stylistic identity.

The movements are often more minimal. Certain aspects of the hastaks, body movement, and footwork differ slightly. These are subtle distinctions, similar to the stylistic differences one finds between other gharanas.

Lahore itself is deeply shaped by Sufi traditions, particularly the poetry of figures such as Baba Bulleh Shah and Waris Shah. We also have strong regional storytelling traditions, including Heer-Ranjha, Sassi-Punnu, and Sohni-Mahiwal.

These literary, cultural, and spiritual influences have shaped Kathak in Pakistan and contributed to the distinct character of the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana.

Interestingly, although Kathak is often said to have originated in temple traditions, in Pakistan it has also become a means of connecting with Allah and expressing devotion through movement.

So while there are many similarities with Kathak practiced in India, there are also differences that emerge from our particular cultural and historical context.

Nirav: That's fascinating. You mentioned these subtle stylistic differences. Could you give one or two examples of how the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana differs from the Lucknow Gharana practiced in India?

Interviewee: The Lucknow Gharana is very much centered around grace...It's a lot about ada (grace and elegance). And if you look at the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana, you see many of the same elements appearing, but in a more minimal way—the same movements, but with subtler hand gestures.

Again, it becomes more about looking inwards rather than seeking an outward response. I don't know if I'm phrasing that in the most appropriate way, but that's how I understand it.

I feel that the Lucknow Gharana, partly because of its association with courtesan culture, developed around displaying grace and receiving a kind of reciprocation from the audience. In the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana, however, we are encouraged to look inward rather than outward, because that is what our Sufi teachings encourage us to do.

The focus becomes building a connection with God. As a result, the movements become more minimal. It's interesting because the movements are still very precise, but they can sometimes appear abstract to someone who has only practiced the Lucknow Gharana and is encountering the Lahore-Lucknow style for the first time.

For example, I recently performed at a Kathak festival. We presented a Tarana choreographed by my guru, Bina Amma. The piece began with a kalam of Bulleh Shah about how people constantly search for God in the mosque and the temple, while forgetting to look within themselves, even though God is closer than they think.

The performance began with that idea and then gradually transitioned into more conventional tukras and Kathak compositions that are also practiced within the tradition.

Nirav: Beautiful. So there is something in the traditional repertoire—because I myself belong to the Lucknow Gharana. There is a traditional repertoire that exists. For example, there is the Vandana, where one seeks blessings from God before beginning. Does any similar sort of invocation exist in the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana?

Interviewee: Oh, I think it kind of does. The way you have Vandana—which is very specific, and both the audience and the performer know what it is going to be about—that kind of connection to God and praising God is also present in the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana.

However, instead of being contained within one specific choreographed piece, it tends to appear throughout the performance. It emerges and re-emerges across different compositions and tukras. So it is not dedicated to just one section. It is more dispersed throughout the repertoire.

Nirav: I see. Also, since we were discussing courtesan culture: Lucknow is often regarded as one of the major centers of courtesan culture. However, in present-day Pakistan, Lahore was also heavily influenced by courtesan traditions.

Do you think there were influences or exchanges between courtesan culture and the development of the Lahore Gharana? Were there forms of amalgamation or cross-cultural interactions between them?

Interviewee: Yes, absolutely.

As you mentioned, Lahore was deeply influenced by courtesan culture. We had red-light districts and an entire social world connected to that culture. Even today, traces of it remain visible.

You can see its presence in literature, films, and various artistic traditions. At a broader level, however, many people try to distance themselves from that history or push that narrative away. But it cannot simply be erased because it is an integral part of our cultural past.

I think there is also a sense of shame that has been constructed around it by society. Again, much of this comes from a lack of education and from the confusion that followed Partition. There was a strong desire to create distinctions and separate identities, even though so much culture, food, art, and history remained shared between India and Pakistan.

So yes, the influence exists. You can see it in dance, literature, visual art, and many other cultural forms.

Nirav: When we talk about courtesan culture in India, there is often an assumption that tawaifs were exclusively Muslim because the term itself comes from Urdu. Yet historically, courtesans were both Muslim and Hindu women. However, many people remain unaware of that complexity and instead associate the stigma surrounding courtesans with Muslim identities and values.

Is that perception unique to India, or are tawaifs in Pakistan also viewed as morally corrupt, vulgar, or socially undesirable?

Interviewee: Definitely. Absolutely.

I do think that this perception exists among the majority of people. It is not merely subjective—it is a widespread social attitude.

What is unfortunate is that while society benefits from and inherits so much from courtesan culture, people continue to view it as something shameful.

There is a disconnect between acknowledging the enormous artistic and cultural contributions of courtesans and the way they are perceived socially.

Actually, I just remembered another difference in terms of stylization between the Lahore-Lucknow and Lucknow traditions.

Another distinction lies in the pace and rhythm of performance. I am not saying that every dancer from the Lucknow Gharana dances slowly, but tempo is one stylistic marker.

At the same time, there is a great deal of interaction between Pakistani and Indian Kathak dancers. Many artists have studied with both Pakistani and Indian gurus.

If I look at Nighat Chaudhry, she has trained under both Pakistani and Indian teachers. Similarly, Adnan Janghi has learned from gurus from both countries.

So there are many mixed influences and exchanges between the two traditions.

Nirav: Exactly. And I think there should be much greater awareness of Pakistani Kathak traditions among Indian audiences.

To be completely honest, until just two or three months ago, I did not even know that a Kathak gharana existed in Pakistan. I was only familiar with the Lucknow, Jaipur, Banaras, and Raigarh gharanas.

I had never heard of the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana. And it should be, because I think gurus should also play a role in helping students understand that although the countries are divided, the culture remains shared to a large extent. I'm not talking about religion, but rather the broader cultural traditions that continue to connect us.

Now, let's shift our discussion toward performance and audiences.

How do audiences perceive Kathak in Pakistan? For example, when you or another Kathak dancer performs, how do people respond to the performance?

Interviewee: I feel that the people who genuinely make the effort to attend Kathak performances—whether by buying tickets or simply showing up—are deeply curious. They genuinely want to learn more.

Kathak has been present in Pakistan for a long time. We have seen dancers performing regularly, whether in groups or solo productions. And the audience has always shown up.

I remember about two years ago when Naheed Siddiqui returned to Pakistan for a performance at the Faiz Festival. I really wanted to attend. I arrived at Alhamra on time, but I couldn't even get inside because the auditorium was completely full. People were standing outside, trying to get in.

So I would definitely say that the curiosity is there.

However, we haven't had many large-scale Kathak festivals. This year, though, there was a significant initiative: the first Lahore Kathak Festival.

It was beautiful. It felt like a celebration—something that had been missing for a long time.

Kathak dancers came from across Pakistan. We had artists such as Sheema Kermani and many others participating. The audience was incredibly enthusiastic. The people who attended were genuinely excited, and many others wanted to come but couldn't because the tickets had sold out.

People want to know more. They want to learn more.

Even those who are skeptical about Kathak are often curious about it. When people don't encounter an art form frequently, they tend to develop assumptions about it. But when it becomes more visible and accessible, curiosity naturally develops.

That curiosity is where tolerance begins. It is where acceptance begins.

People can then decide for themselves whether they appreciate the art form, but first they need opportunities to encounter it.

I have to credit the Kathak community for this festival. It was organized entirely by Kathak dancers. They had never organized a festival before, and this was their first initiative. It was organized by Momina Khan and Usman, so they deserve a great deal of recognition.

At the same time, we need greater institutional support. Government support would make a huge difference.

It's very difficult to secure sponsorships. It's also difficult to build audiences when many people have a limited or confused understanding of Kathak.

A lot of people assume Kathak is simply "semi-classical." They don't fully understand what Kathak actually is. Only a small percentage of the audience really knows what a tukra, tehai, or other Kathak concepts mean.

I realized this during the festival. The audience was extremely interested and had the best intentions, but they were learning alongside the performances. They were discovering what these terms meant and how the form worked.

That's why we need more festivals, more performances, and more public engagement.

Nirav: That's wonderful to hear. It's encouraging to know that audiences are showing up and engaging with the art form.

Of course, government initiatives and institutional support would also be important in helping these traditions grow.

When we talk about dance, we also have to talk about music and accompaniment. Traditionally, Kathak is accompanied by instruments such as the tabla, sarangi, and harmonium.

In Pakistan, is the musical accompaniment largely similar, or are there any significant differences?

Interviewee: At its core, it is quite similar.

One difference is that performers sometimes incorporate songs based on the poetry of Bulleh Shah. Since that poetry is such an important part of our cultural and literary heritage, dancers sometimes integrate it into performances.

Apart from that, the instrumental accompaniment remains largely the same.

Nirav: What about melodic accompaniment specifically? In terms of percussion, we usually think of tabla and sometimes pakhawaj. But for melodic accompaniment, what is more common—sarangi or harmonium?

Interviewee: Sorry, the connection broke for a moment. Could you repeat the question?

Nirav: I was asking whether sarangi or harmonium tends to dominate the melodic accompaniment.

Interviewee: It's difficult to say because both are very prominent.

The core ensemble is usually tabla, sarangi, and harmonium.

I recently discussed pakhawaj with my guru, and she mentioned that one of the challenges today is that there are very few people who know how to play it properly.

That is concerning because there was a time when Kathak was widely celebrated in Pakistan and there was much greater understanding of the tradition.

That situation changed significantly during General Zia-ul-Haq's dictatorship. During that period, Kathak dancers, artists, and musicians were often forced underground and had to continue practicing in secret.

Even after the dictatorship ended, its effects remained. The impact was long-lasting, and many artistic traditions are still dealing with those consequences today.

Because I remember that Kathak programs used to be aired on PTV, which is one of the most prominent television channels in Pakistan. Before the dictatorship, Kathak performances were regularly broadcast on television.

There was a much greater public visibility and acceptance of the form. People could encounter Kathak in their everyday lives through television and cultural programming. However, during the dictatorship, many of these artistic spaces began to disappear, and dancers, musicians, and performers found themselves increasingly marginalized.

As a result, the transmission of knowledge was disrupted. The effects of that period continued long after the dictatorship ended. Even today, we are still trying to rebuild audiences, institutions, and a broader understanding of Kathak in Pakistan.

1. How did you first encounter Kathak? What has your journey as a Kathak dancer been like?

2. In Pakistan, does Kathak carry the image of being a Hindu dance form?

3. Could you tell us about the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana and how it emerged after Partition?

4. What are some stylistic differences between the Lahore-Lucknow Gharana and the Lucknow Gharana practiced in India?

5. Since Kathak traditionally includes devotional elements such as the Vandana, how are spirituality and devotion expressed within the Lahore-Lucknow tradition?

6. Given Lahore's historical association with courtesan culture, do you see any relationship between Kathak and courtesan traditions in Pakistan?

7. How are tawaifs and courtesan culture perceived in contemporary Pakistan?

8. How do audiences in Pakistan respond to Kathak performances today?

9. What role have initiatives such as the Lahore Kathak Festival played in reviving interest in Kathak?

10. What kinds of musical accompaniment are commonly used in Kathak performances in Pakistan? Are there any differences from India?

11. How has the decline of instruments such as the pakhawaj affected Kathak and its musical traditions?

12. How did General Zia-ul-Haq's dictatorship affect Kathak, dancers, and the performing arts in Pakistan?