A Memory That Started It All
Every time the mridangam plays, something happens. I find myself back at that temple evening from my childhood — lamps glowing, voices blending, incense everywhere. It was loud, yet calm in its own way. And whenever I hear the mridangam now, it pulls me right back — clear as if it’s all unfolding again. I can see the lamps, smell the incense, and hear the noise and laughter. It’s all mixed in my mind, a bit blurry but somehow alive.
Somewhere in that chaos, a dancer began her performance. Her eyes spoke before her feet moved, and for a few moments, everything else just stopped. That’s probably when Bharatanatyam found me. Or maybe I found it. Hard to tell now.
A dancer stepped onto the stage – remember her walking onto the stage. The anklets moved with the music. I was little, but that feeling stays with me — it wasn’t a show; it was something else. More like prayer, moving right before my eyes.
Every once in a while, that day sticks with me – crystal clear. I’m not sure when I first noticed the change, but at some point I began to really fall in love with Bharatanatyam – not just the footwork, but the whole philosophy of it.
The Beginning – Learning the Adavus
Every dancer starts here—with Adavus, the basic steps. They look simple at first, but they carry everything you need to know. My teacher always said, “If your Adavus are strong, your dance will never fall apart.”
A few of them still stay fresh in my mind:
- Tatta Adavu – stamping your feet in rhythm, learning patience.
- Natta Adavu – stretching your body with grace, balancing movement.
- Visharu Adavu – opening out, learning how to flow.
In the beginning, it’s not easy. Your legs ache, you miss beats, and sometimes your ghungroos feel heavier than your will. I don’t know when it happens, but someday you just stop keeping track. The music leads, and you simply move. That’s when you know — you’re dancing for real.
Expressions – The Soul Inside the Steps.
You can’t really understand Bharatanatyam without talking about Abhinaya—expressions. This is where it all happens. The dance, the stories, the emotions — everything seems to come from this one space. You know what’s special about Bharatanatyam? Every emotion has a name. We call them Rasas.
Some of them include:
- Sringaram – the feeling of love and beauty.
- Karunam – that soft ache of compassion.
- Hasya – the joy that just spills out as laughter.
I remember my first performance — my hands shook so badly. But when the music started, the crowd just faded away. It was just me and the dance. It was just me and the story. The emotions just came through — almost like they weren’t mine anymore. That’s Abhinaya. When that occurs, the dance is no longer just something for you. It reaches somewhere beyond you.
Rhythm is what brings life to everything.
I had a teacher who used to say to me, “If you can’t feel the rhythm, you can’t dance.” She was right.It is rhythm that is the anchor to everything: the mridangam, the Nattuvangam, and the voice of the singer. When the beats happen to you and you leave yourself momentarily, that is where the love for it lives. It is simply you and the music.
And then…
- Every dance flows with its Tala.
- You might miss it when you start, but it’s always there, holding the dance together.
- At some point, everything resonates perfectly — the steps, the breath, the total silence in the spaces between beats.
- It’s odd to put into words, but for a few seconds, it feels as if time gets amnesia about its job.
The Costume – Meaning Beyond Beauty
The costume—it’s never just clothes. Once you put it on, everything changes.
Every piece has a story:
- The colours almost feel alive; they give you this burst of energy.
- The ornaments — they each have a story, passed down through the years.
- The bright shades give you strength.
- The temple jewellery feels like devotion made real.
- The ghungroos – when the music kicks in, they become your heartbeat.
You’re in your dress, getting ready to perform, which isn’t the same; it feels like you’re stepping into a holy space. It’s the same feeling when I tie the ghungroos; there is stillness and a little sparkle that won’t stay still. Maybe it’s my body signalling that you are ready now.
If You’re Thinking of Learning…
Don’t wait too long. There are many classical dance classes in Kannur where you can start, no matter your age or background. You’ll learn posture, rhythm, and storytelling — but more than that, you’ll learn focus, patience, and grace. Your body will ache, yes. But your mind will settle. That’s the quiet gift of this art form.
Why Bharatanatyam Stays With You – Conclusion
Over time, Bharatanatyam becomes part of you. It changes how you walk, how you see rhythm, and even how you think. It teaches humility. It teaches strength. And somewhere between all the steps and stories, you begin to discover yourself. So if something inside you feels drawn to this dance, listen to it. Find a place that teaches with heart — maybe one of the many classical dance classes in Kannur.
Begin small. Step by step.
And then all of a sudden—it doesn’t seem like dance anymore; it feels like something different, something quieter. It becomes intimate — as if you are looking to find your way back to yourself.