The melding of music and dance in Mohalahiri varnam, set to Todi Ragam, paved the way for the performers to construct an ephemeral statue of beauty, desire, and sensuousness.
There is a common thread that connects all art—apart from the technique and aesthetic quality, such as crafting a good composition or utilising the space well, it has to evoke an internal moment of self-transformation. In a performing art like dance, the stage is set for giving rise to that moment for both the artist and the audience through the combined efforts of singers, musicians, technicians, and the dancers themselves.
Having watched Pritam's performances repeatedly over the past couple of years, I can say that when I exit the performance theatre, I am changed differently every time. Each piece exudes an emotional quality that is developed over the course of its musical trajectory through subtle yet evocative expressions building up to a crescendo, similar to the heightened experience of a classical orchestra.
I was grateful to witness his varnam work Mohalahiri, twice this year. The first time was at the Seva Sadan Bangalore, and the second at the Music Academy Madras. My initial experience was more intimate given the smaller size of the auditorium. The Music Academy's stage was larger, but Pritam had somehow managed to expand the piece to the space and I even overheard a rasika telling him that his energetic movements made the stage seem small.
Like how a sculptor begins from a rough-edged unshaped stone, Pritam entered the stage to the tune of the ragam as we were left waiting eagerly for what was to take shape. Slowly but steadily, he began to carve out the piece through elaborate gesturing. Jathis from Yamini Amma's repertoire were like sharp chiselled cuts. Performed to almost perfection, the speed and tenacity of his footwork excited everyone in the audience. Contrary to his fast-paced adavus, the slower depiction of the nayika herself, was like the gentle sanding of curved stone, and allowed for time to pause, immersing everyone in the shringara bhava. The lyrics explain and reiterate the yearning of the nayika for her lover, Swami Rajagopalaswami of Mannargudi. What Pritam explored through his choreography was more of the loving and the longing than the object of love. The piece centered on the experience of the nayika and her burning heat of desire. He showed how her body feels through the metaphor of a flower, using the setting of a still lake under the glimmering moonlight. The vocal excellence by Bijeesh Krishna singing the verses "Mohalahiri konden saami, modi seiyyaathe" contributed to a delicate quality that the dancer stepped in to build upon. (It is to be noted that Bijeesh Krishna was conferred the Kalamandalam award for Dance Music in 2025.)
In this aspect, the choreography allowed for each of the musicians' skills to stand out. Be it the jugalbandi type of conversation that the dancer engaged with the nattuvangam artist or the elevated nature of the flute to the dancer's stillness, at every juncture, we could sense the presence of the musicians in tandem with the dancer, which was a signature of the performance. Owing to the bigger size of the Music Academy stage, the dancer occasionally faltered on these theatrical raptures that included quick jathis.
The creativity of Pritam's choreography echoed the heavily concept-oriented style and spiritually rich dimension of his guru Smt. Rama Vaidyanathan. In a video interview titled "Artfelt Conversations", Rama akka answers a question about the secret behind her well-known choreographies. She says "The success of a choreography is not what you do, but what you don't." In that way, Pritam carved out his varnam "Mohalahiri", leaving out gaps of stone to reveal a sculpture of a graceful nayika similar to those embedded on the temple walls of Mannargudi.
The strong influence of other classical dance forms made the specific style of the dancer stand out among the rest. The tribhanga pose and its consecutive graceful movements reminded me of Odissi, the creative direction done on the timeless lyrics reminded me of a ballet or contemporary dance performance, the frantic movement on the toes felt like dancing on the plate in Kuchipudi and finally the essence that framed the entirety of the piece - the seeming non-difference between the beats of the musicians and the movements of the dancers with the both merging close to resonance felt like Koodiyattam.
The final act showed the merriment of dancers in the Rajagopalaswami temple and the arrival of the lord himself to consummate the love of his beloved. Extended to its fullest vision/ fantasy, the explicit gestures were fitting for the finale. Neither uncomfortable but rather an invitation to become one with the divine, the concept was handled with a good balance between the heat of the body and the longing of the soul. Some may wonder if it is possible in the current environment for a woman to explore the varnam similarly, but that would limit the discussion to mere politics. In fact, there were a plethora of varnams explored through unique perspectives during the week of the dance festival - most of them by female dancers.
In a pre-interview with Mavin Khoo, (the esteemed dancer who curated Rasa: The Margazhi Edit by Kanakavalli in which Pritam performed the same piece), when Pritam was asked if he as the dancer becomes the nayika, or stays as the dancer himself while interpreting the lyrics, he answered that he doesn't become the nayika but stays Pritam on the stage. Like how water takes the shape of any vessel it's poured in, he said that he takes the form of the varnam itself, but he is still Pritam.
It was a beautiful reply, and I would dare to take it a step further. When we witness a dancer who is capable of melting into the music and its meanings through dance, as audience members we find ourselves melting away into it too.
Postscript: Pritam Das is my guru and I have the utmost love and respect, as a disciple has for their teacher of art. In this review, however, I share my truthful experience more as an audience in the room rather than as a student or critic.
At this moment, I remind myself of a quote by American literary critic and philosopher, Frederic Jameson:
"One has to come at stuff without too many preconceptions and allow oneself to be struck by something. Criticism or interpretation is explaining that after. You can't have a method that tells you what to do beforehand."
I hope that I have done justice to those lines.
----Swarna
*rasika - an aesthete/observer of Indian classical dance or music
**nayika - the central heroine/ protagonist of the varnam
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