Interviewer: Okay. Before we start the interview, I'd just like to briefly introduce myself and the organisation.

I'm Nirav, and I'm currently in Grade 12. I'm also a Kathak practitioner. While practising Kathak, I realised that amidst examinations, the grading system, and diploma structures, many aspects of history and many contributions that paved the way for today's performance traditions often remain undocumented.

Whether in music, dance, or theatre, I felt there was a need to record these histories. So, I started a project dedicated to documenting them. I've been working with scholars and practitioners, interviewing Kathak, Kathakali, and Kuchipudi practitioners, as well as professors from Jawaharlal Nehru University and universities in the United States who work in dance studies and dance history. Through these conversations, I'm trying to understand both the historical processes and how to build such an archive.

So, let's begin the conversation. Could you please tell us about yourself and your journey?

Interviewee: Okay. I've been learning Kathak since I was four years old, so it's been almost 19 years. I started my journey under Shrimati Shakti Singh Ji. She was a dance teacher who conducted classes in Noida itself—very basic classes, like the ones held in residential societies. They weren't too advanced, but they provided a good foundation.

Later, I decided that I wanted to pursue Kathak professionally. For that, I was advised to join Kathak Kendra in New Delhi. It's a government institution under the Sangeet Natak Akademi.

There, I first trained under Shri Abhimanyu Lal Ji. Since childhood, I had been learning in the Jaipur Gharana. There are three or four major gharanas of Kathak, and Jaipur Gharana is the one I primarily follow. Although I wouldn't say the distinctions between gharanas are as rigid today, I'm mentioning this because your project is around courtesan culture, and understanding the gharanas is important in that context.

Under Abhimanyu Lal Ji, although the training was still rooted in Jaipur Gharana, he himself had learnt from both Reva Vidyarthi Ji and Geetanjali Lal Ji, so there was exposure to multiple traditions.

After completing the three-year Advanced Course, I began training under Pandit Rajendra Gangani Ji, who belongs to the traditional lineage of Jaipur Kathak gurus. So, that is a more traditional Jaipur Gharana lineage.

Currently, I'm continuing my training there.

Interviewer: While dancing, every dancer has certain aspects they naturally enjoy more. Speaking for myself, I often find myself drawn either towards intricate rhythmic footwork or towards storytelling. Is there a particular part of the Kathak repertoire that you especially enjoy?

Interviewee: My favourite part? I think Kathak is really a complete package. Since I've been studying professionally at Kathak Kendra, we're constantly immersed in an environment of music and culture, and we're exposed to so many different dimensions of the art form.

So, choosing just one favourite aspect would be difficult because, as you grow, you begin appreciating the nuances of each one. Every part has something special to offer.

Instead of choosing just one, can I describe what I enjoy about each aspect?

Interviewer: Yes, of course.

Interviewee: We usually begin with a stuti, especially in my Guru's class. Every class starts with either a stuti, a bhajan, or a vandana.

I think this helps you ground yourself. It isn't simply bhava pradarshan, nor is it focused on speed or technical virtuosity. It's a moment where you connect with whichever deity or aspect of the divine you're invoking.

For example, Ganesh Vandana evokes a different mood from Krishna Vandana, and a Devi Stuti carries yet another emotional quality.

When it comes to the technical side, every lineage—perhaps even more than every gharana—has certain unique contributions that become its speciality.

There are technical elements that are distinctive to Jaipur Gharana and others that are unique to Lucknow Gharana. Even something like the chakras of Jaipur Gharana has a history behind it. They weren't created randomly. At some point, a guru developed them within a particular historical and cultural context.

Many aspects of Jaipur Gharana were influenced by Rajasthani folk dance traditions. Learning these histories and understanding the thought process of the gurus who created them is something I really enjoy.

Another speciality of Jaipur Gharana is the kavit. The tradition of long kavits was especially developed here. For example, there's one traditional kavit that narrates the entire story of Kaliya Daman, a story that is usually performed through bhava, but here it is expressed through the structure of a kavit itself.

There are many such pieces.

I also enjoy the highly complex and fast-paced compositions, where your movements and your footwork have to remain perfectly synchronised while producing the required sound. They're extremely challenging but also very rewarding.

They create a different kind of rasa from what we experience while performing bhava. It's perhaps closer to Veer Rasa, and I really enjoy that energy.

At the other end of the spectrum, I also love the vilambit laya section—the thaat, the footwork, and the upaj. These become points of connection with the audience, with the musicians, and with yourself.

To perform them well, you need control, patience, and a deep understanding of the music.

Interviewee: So, that's about the technical aspect.

I've also recently come to love the bhava aspect. I say "recently" because bhava is something that develops with age. The more mature you become, the more you understand the text—what the poet intended, what your guru wants you to convey, and, of course, your own interpretation.

Even the bhava repertoire has its own history. Many of the bhava pieces we perform are adapted from Rajasthani folk songs. Usually, not many classical dance forms borrow directly from folk traditions, but in Kathak—and especially in Jaipur Gharana—it is very common. Along with the songs, many elements of the folk aesthetic are also retained.

So, I find the entire package fascinating. Dance, as a whole, is a complete package.

Interviewer: Exactly. And since you mentioned Jaipur Gharana—being a dancer trained in the Lucknow Gharana—I don't often get to hear much about Jaipur Gharana. We know that the style of chakras is very different from what we practise, and there are several other aspects that distinguish Jaipur from Lucknow.

We also know quite a bit about how the Lucknow Gharana evolved, but comparatively less has been written about the evolution of Jaipur Gharana. Could you shed some light on that?

Interviewee: Yes, there isn't a great deal of written history about Jaipur Gharana.

Until a few decades ago, you could say there was a kind of dominance of the Lucknow Gharana. I'm not saying this as my personal opinion—I read it in a book. One reason mentioned was that Lucknow Gharana had several charismatic leaders who helped establish its prominence. Jaipur Gharana, on the other hand, continued its lineage, but it wasn't able to establish the same level of public dominance. Every historical period has its own politics and circumstances.

As for the history of Jaipur Gharana, in fact, some scholars suggest that the broader history of Kathak itself begins in the Churu district of Rajasthan. This point was discussed during the Kathak Mahotsav held in 2024 or 2025, where one of the scholars spoke about it.

From there, the tradition spread through temples and different regions. There isn't much documented information about the earliest guru of Jaipur Gharana—or at least I haven't come across it. It's possible I've missed something, but I haven't read much on that. In contrast, we know more about the origins of the Lucknow Gharana, particularly the Kalka-Bindadin lineage.

In the early history of Jaipur Gharana, there was reportedly an epidemic or disease outbreak. Many Kathak gurus from the original lineage—whose family names may have included Parihar, Lal, or Prasad, if I remember correctly—did not survive.

The Gangani family was related to that lineage, though not directly descended from it. From there, the lineage continued through the Ganganis. Today, figures like Kundanlal Gangani Ji and Pandit Rajendra Gangani Ji are regarded as major torchbearers of the Jaipur Gharana tradition.

So, it's a somewhat fragmented history rather than a straightforward lineage like that of the Lucknow Gharana.

The complete family tree is actually available in the book Kathak Gyaneshwari. I don't remember all the names or the exact sequence correctly, so if you're researching this further, I would recommend referring to that book.

Interviewer: I was reading a book by Shovana Narayan, and she also mentioned that epidemic and the subsequent migration from Rajasthan. She writes that the ancestors of the Kalka-Bindadin Gharana—including the forefathers of Pandit Birju Maharaj—originally came from Rajasthan after the epidemic. I found that quite interesting.

Interviewee: Yes, I think Shovana Ji also mentioned that during the Kathak Mahotsav.

Interviewer: Okay.

While we're discussing Jaipur Gharana, why do you think it came to emphasise rhythmic complexity and fast-paced footwork? The popular perception is that Jaipur Gharana is known for its powerful layakari and speed, whereas Lucknow Gharana is associated with nazakat and expressive elegance. Why do you think Jaipur came to occupy that particular artistic space?

Interviewee: It's not really about what I think; it's based on what I've read in books. As students, we study these historical interpretations as well.

The reason lies in the cultural and political context.

Jaipur Gharana developed in the Rajasthan region, which was then known as Rajputana. Around the same period, Lucknow Gharana was developing in the region of Awadh, centred around present-day Lucknow.

At that time, the patrons of Lucknow Gharana were largely the Mughal rulers, whereas Jaipur Gharana developed under the patronage of the Rajput rulers.

Artists, in every historical period, adapt to the people who patronise their art. Patronage has always been essential, and naturally, patrons want to see performances that reflect their own tastes, values, and ideals.

In many ways, the same principle still exists today. Patrons support the kind of art they wish to see, and artists gradually adapt to those expectations if they wish to sustain their practice.

Since Jaipur was under Rajput patronage—and Rajput culture has long been associated with courage, heroism, and Veer Rasa—those values naturally influenced the dance tradition. Even Rajasthani folk dances reflect this cultural background. You'll find sword dances, backbends to pick up swords, performances involving fire, and many other physically dynamic elements.

The Jaipur Gharana seems to have absorbed those cultural influences. There was greater emphasis on bhakti than on shringara, and features such as rapid footwork and multiple chakras probably evolved because they resonated with what the patrons appreciated.

Fast footwork and swift chakaras generate a sense of excitement and heroic energy. They evoke enthusiasm in the audience, which aligns closely with the aesthetic of Veer Rasa.

Interviewee: It creates a kind of energy.

And with Lucknow Gharana, it's the same principle. The Mughal rulers were the patrons there, so the entire culture of Lucknow developed around andaaz, nazakat, and refinement. Even today, you can still see traces of that culture.

The patrons there preferred the shringara aspect rather than Veer Rasa. Naturally, they wanted performances that reflected those sensibilities. Of course, they were Mughal rulers, and every ruler wants to leave an impact and shape culture according to their own vision.

Even the costumes gradually changed into the Mughal style—the Anarkali silhouette, for instance—and other elements associated with shringara became more prominent. There was greater emphasis on chhed-chhad—the playful interaction that evokes the feeling of shringara and creates a sense of enjoyment for the audience.

Similarly, the bhava repertoire focused more on the playful relationship between Radha and Krishna rather than on Krishna bhakti or the devotion associated with other deities. Again, much of this was shaped by the preferences of the patrons.

In Lucknow Gharana, there is the tradition of Salami, where the dancer offers a formal salutation to the patron. In Jaipur Gharana, a somewhat comparable practice is Rangmanch Pranam, where, instead of saluting a ruler, the dancer offers respect to the stage itself.

Today, however, very few dancers perform either of these because we no longer have a single royal patron. Even my guru, Pandit Rajendra Gangani Ji, has never taught us Rangmanch Pranam because he believes that it is no longer relevant. There is no individual patron to whom such a gesture would be directed.

So, certain traditions naturally become less relevant with time.

Interviewer: Exactly. Even in my dance classes, it isn't that we've forgotten Rangmanch Pranam or Salami, but Salami is gradually disappearing from the syllabus. In the curriculum we follow, it is increasingly being replaced by Rangmanch ka Tukda or Rangmanch Pranam. So, it's quite interesting to observe that shift.

Also, in one of the interviews I conducted earlier, I noticed something interesting. Although Jaipur Gharana is generally not associated with courtesan culture in the same way as Lucknow Gharana is, Jaipur did have institutions such as the Gunijan Khana, which, while different from the tawaif tradition, also functioned as important artistic spaces.

What I found was that practitioners of Jaipur Gharana often seem to have a somewhat different perception of courtesans.

What kind of image of courtesans were you exposed to? What was the understanding you encountered—whether at Kathak Kendra or elsewhere?

Interviewee: I don't think courtesan culture is discussed very much.

It's often presented as though it was simply an unfortunate phase in Kathak's history that should be forgotten. But the reality is that it cannot simply be erased. It emerged within the context of British colonial rule.

Every ruling power influenced culture differently. The Rajputs shaped it in one way, the Mughals in another, and the British brought an entirely different perspective. They regarded dance as immoral and imposed their own cultural values.

Because of that, the courtesan period is often brushed aside as a negative phase in Kathak's history.

Even in the books we studied, we were taught that Kathak was originally performed in temples and that, because of various political and social circumstances, it moved out of the temples and into royal courts, particularly the Mughal courts. We were taught that, during this process, much of its bhakti aspect diminished.

Most of what we've studied about courtesan culture has been in relation to Lucknow and the Nawabs of Awadh.

As for Jaipur Gharana, there has always been an effort to preserve the idea that its tradition remained "pure" and was never influenced by courtesan culture—that it was never fundamentally a court tradition in the same sense.

That may well be true.

Perhaps some intermediate developments were left out of the narrative. Take Thumri, for example. It's often associated with the courts and wasn't originally a significant part of Jaipur Gharana.

Today, however, those boundaries have largely dissolved. Our context has completely changed. We receive patronage from institutions such as the Ministry of Culture, and the challenges we face today are entirely different.

Now, everyone performs everything. Jaipur Gharana dancers perform Thumri, and dancers from the Lucknow Gharana perform bhajans and devotional compositions as well.

So, we can't really view these traditions through the same historical lens anymore.

Still, I think some of these developments may indeed have emerged because of courtesan culture, although they are rarely presented that way.

We do study the Parikhanas of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah and how they helped preserve the arts. In Jaipur, perhaps the Gunijan Khanas played a somewhat similar role.

Personally, I feel that the women of the courts—the courtesans—have never really received the recognition they deserve. At one point in history, they were the ones who sustained and preserved many artistic traditions, yet they have largely been remembered only as courtesans.

Then we have contemporary films like Heeramandi, which create yet another image of them.

Overall, I would say that there is still very little discussion about courtesan culture, and whatever discussion does exist is quite limited. It isn't something that is openly talked about.

Interviewer: Exactly. And the point you raised about Heeramandi is especially interesting.

The image we have today of the tawaif, or the courtesan, is largely mediated through popular media representations—whether it's Heeramandi, Devdas, or similar films—in which she is shown primarily as an entertainer or a dancer.

There is only one particular image...

Interviewee: And that is the only aspect that tends to be shown in those films.

That's also why I think many classical dancers try to distance themselves from the image of the courtesan. They want to separate themselves from that association and create an entirely different public identity.

But I think dance naturally evolves with time.

There was a time when the original Kathakars did not perform what we perform today. The earliest form of Kathak was quite different. If you were to compare the two, you might even say they are not the same art form.

So, over time, people try to create a new image of themselves—one that resonates more with contemporary audiences.

Ultimately, it's about presenting yourself in a way that people are willing to support and patronise. Court culture and courtesans are still widely perceived as something immoral, not only in India but in many other places as well.

A great deal depends on how you present yourself and how you encourage people to patronise your art.

Interviewer: Exactly. Now, let's talk a little about the Kathak repertoire.

One thing I've personally noticed is the dominance—or perhaps the hegemony—of Teentaal. So much of what we learn is in Teentaal. Our notebooks are often filled with Teentaal compositions, whereas there might only be ten or fifteen pages devoted to something like Pancham Sawari.

Is that also the case in Jaipur Gharana, or is it just something we're experiencing?

Interviewee: It isn't just about Jaipur Gharana. In fact, it isn't even just about Kathak. It's true across many Hindustani classical art forms.

The reason is that Teentaal is known as the Raja Taal—the king of taals. It is the most fundamental taal, yet it can also be the most sophisticated.

Its structure is simple: four equal divisions of four beats each, making it easy for audiences to follow. But at the same time, it offers immense scope for complexity.

Take Pancham Sawari or Ashtamangal, for example. Their rhythmic structures are inherently more complex. If you then perform equally intricate compositions within those already complex frameworks, it can sometimes create unnecessary complexity.

Art should flow naturally. The audience should be able to appreciate its intricacies without constantly struggling to understand the rhythmic framework.

This is something all of us have heard from our gurus and musicians. Even Ustad Zakir Hussain Ji often performed in Teentaal. It wasn't because he couldn't play other taals. It was because Teentaal is the Raja Taal—the king. It is both the simplest and, in many ways, the most profound and beautiful taal.

My gurus and mentors know countless taals. They know complex kamalis, chakradars, farmaishis, kavits, anagat, ateet—everything. They also perform in unusual rhythmic cycles such as 13 matras or even 9½ matras. I've attended performances in 9½ matras.

But sometimes, when the taal itself becomes too structurally demanding, you become occupied with counting instead of enjoying the performance.

With Teentaal, the sam, taali, and khaali are so clearly defined. It has an elegance of its own.

You simply need to spend more time with it. As you continue learning, your appreciation naturally deepens.

Interviewer: Exactly. So, you've devoted almost nineteen years to Kathak.

During that journey, how has your understanding of different taals evolved? How were you introduced to different rhythmic structures over time?

Interviewee: When you begin learning, you spend a great deal of time with Teentaal.

If I describe the curriculum at Kathak Kendra, it starts with the Foundation Course. During the first three years, you learn only Teentaal. After that, you move on to Jhaptaal and then Dhamar.

Then comes the Diploma Course. Again, the first year is devoted to Teentaal, the second to Jhaptaal, and the third to Dhamar.

After that comes the Advanced Diploma. Once again, the first year focuses on Teentaal, the second on Jhaptaal, and the third on Dhamar.

Only in the Post Diploma programme do you finally begin studying other taals such as Ashtamangal, Pancham Sawari, Chautaal, Shikhar Taal (17 matras), and Matta Taal or Basant Taal (9 matras).

From my own experience, I truly began understanding the beauty of Teentaal during the first year of the Advanced Course.

Think about it—you spend fifteen or sixteen years learning the same taal.

Why?

Because first you learn it, then you explore other taals, and later you return to Teentaal with an entirely different level of experience and technical understanding.

When you revisit it, you notice details you completely overlooked the first time.

It's like rereading a book years later. Suddenly, you notice things that were always there but that you simply weren't ready to see.

Before joining Kathak Kendra, I completed my Visharad under Shrimati Shakti Singh Ji. I trained with her for the first eleven years.

Since I was following the Gandharva Mahavidyalaya curriculum, I also learnt taals like Roopak Taal, Ektaal, Jhaptaal, and others.

But at that stage, I would say I learnt them more as part of the syllabus. I hadn't yet begun to truly see the taal.

The great gurus often say that you must see the laya and see the taal.

My guru, Pandit Rajendra Gangani Ji, often explains that dancing in Shikhar Taal feels completely different from dancing in Teentaal or Matta Taal. Every taal has its own personality, structure, and emotional quality.

So, every composition he creates is shaped according to the character of the taal. It isn't simply a matter of inserting pauses or arranging movements randomly.

As he says, "Taal ko taal ki tarah naachna hai." You have to dance each taal according to its own nature.

Take Roopak Taal, for example. It's relatively short and has a playful, lively character.

Similarly, he says that when someone watches Shikhar Taal, they should immediately feel that grandeur—as though they are looking at the summit (shikhar) of a mountain. And when they watch Pancham Sawari, they should instantly recognise that unique identity as well.

There are even reasons behind names like Pancham Sawari—why it is called that in the first place. I'm still exploring those questions. It has something to do with numbers and the historical meaning of the term.

Even after nineteen years of learning, I'm still discovering these things.

Interviewer: And I think there's still much for me to discover as well. I've only devoted about four years to Kathak.

At times, after spending so much time with Teentaal, it begins to feel repetitive, and I find myself wanting to learn something new. But hearing your perspective makes me think that perhaps, with more experience, I'll start looking at Teentaal very differently.

Interviewee: Very differently.

Interviewer: Thank you, Krishti, for joining me today. Am I pronouncing your name correctly?

Interviewee: Yes.

Interviewer: Thank you so much for giving me your time and for sharing your thoughts. We'll be archiving this interview on our website. If you'd like, you can also send us a few performance photographs to accompany the interview.

I'll email you the details. Along with the photographs, you can also send a short biography of around 50–60 words.

Interviewee: Okay.

Thank you so much for having me. I look forward to reading the final report.

Interviewer: Thank you.

Interviewee: Thank you.

Interviewer: You're welcome.

1. Could you tell us about yourself and your journey in Kathak?

2. As a dancer, is there a particular aspect of the Kathak repertoire that you enjoy the most—whether rhythmic footwork, storytelling, or something else?

3. Could you explain the historical evolution of Jaipur Gharana, since comparatively less is written about it than Lucknow Gharana?

4. Why do you think Jaipur Gharana came to emphasize rhythmic complexity, fast-paced footwork, and Veer Rasa, while Lucknow Gharana became associated with nazakat, shringara, and expressive elegance?

5. Although Jaipur Gharana is generally not associated with courtesan culture in the same way as Lucknow Gharana, what image or understanding of courtesans were you exposed to during your training, whether at Kathak Kendra or elsewhere?

6. Within the Kathak repertoire, why do you think Teentaal occupies such a dominant position, while taals like Pancham Sawari receive comparatively little attention? Is this also the case in Jaipur Gharana?

7. Over your nineteen years of training, how has your understanding of different taals evolved? How were you introduced to increasingly complex rhythmic structures?