Dancing the Gods

The annual Dancing the Gods Festival of Indian Dance celebrated its fourteenth and final year with a generous finale May 16-18. This final event extended for three evenings instead of the usual two. Each performance featured a highly accomplished artist of a different classical Indian dance form: Mythili Prakash (Bharatanatyam), Parul Shah (Kathak) and Bijayini Satpathy (Odissi)─all programmed as an homage to Rajika Puri, the festival’s founder and curator. Puri, an acclaimed dance storyteller (herself an exponent of Bharatanatyam and Odissi), has curated each year’s festival with visionary leadership and a fierce dedication to artistic excellence. Over the years, Puri scouted out talent in India with an eye for presentation at the festival─helping to build many performers’ careers. She is also known for her onstage pre-performance lecture/demonstrations, through which she expounds upon some aspect of classical Indian dance. I am included among those who received an education through Puri’s information-filled presentations. The festival was conceived in collaboration with the World Music Institute, and for its last two years, Asia Society has joined as a co-presenter providing its elegant venue for the performances.

Performance

Dancing the Gods Festival of Indian Dance

Place

The Asia Society, New York, NY, May 16-18, 2025

Words

Karen Greenspan

Mythili Prakash dancing “Jwala.” Photograph by Ewallop | Asia Society

On night one, Mythili Prakash reprised her work “Jwala” (Rising Flame), which she performed at the 2016 festival. The choreography, a response to the passing of her father and birth of her daughter, explores fire as a constant elemental energy of life—delicate and wild, destructive and hopeful. Prakash gave a short spoken explanation of the piece and concluded speaking the rhythmic pulse “dum dum,” which was seamlessly picked up by the four masterful musicians seated on a low platform across the back of the stage. Ananya Ashok (vocals), Rohith Jayaraman (vocals), Rohan Krishnamurthy (percussion), and Sruti Sarathy (violin) performed the absorbing musical composition by Aditya Prakash (the dancer’s brother) that melded together as one with the dance.

Prakash opened the piece seated on the stage floor in the dark with a single golden light beam illuminating just her hands. Moving her hands in flickering motions, she nurtured her tiny spark upward with focused intent until the sudden vocalized percussion (spoken syllables called jathi) animated her entire body off the floor. Her dancing body, fully lit, moved like a crackling fire─with crisp footwork, exacting arm gestures, deep squats, and sudden jumps. With building energy, Prakash charged through space like the wildfires that recently engulfed so much of her residential community of Los Angeles. A somber humming section transitioned the scene into an abhinaya (mimetic narrative) of nostalgia—moments together with her father flipping through the pages of a photo album. Another memorable abhinaya illustrated the all-consuming care, joy, and wonder of a new mother with her baby. You could discern every facial and gestural subtlety of the mother coaxing a response from her child, and then her legible reaction. This was humorously resonant when she jutted her face out waiting (and waiting) for a desired kiss. And between each section, Prakash built her fire again from a deep plié on the ground—one hand trembling like a flame above the other held as a base of support—until both hands joined in a riveting choreography that elevated her dancing body upward and out into space. As the lights dimmed to darkness and the violin crooned its final strains, Prakash continued her dance—undulating her body forward and backward—fully becoming the flame, the inner fire that fuels life.

Parul Shah performing “All that Lies.” Photograph by Ewallop | Asia Society

On night two, Kathak dancer Parul Shah presented her evening-length ensemble piece “All That Lies.” In this work, she used her signature hybrid dance language—a fusion of Kathak and contemporary movement—to explore and negotiate her identity as a South Asian woman and dancer. Shah’s dancing is like human calligraphy—her integrated style flowing with natural eloquence. Matching and merging completely with the dance’s emotional arc was the expressive blend of sounds produced by the ensemble of five musicians sitting along the left side of the stage. Jake Charkey (cello) composed the score, served as musical director, and performed along with Narendra Budhakar (tabla), Arun Ramamurthy (violin), Priyanka Tope (vocals), and Narendra Budhakar (vocals). Additional music composition contributed by Arun Ramamurthy, Narendra Budhakar, and Trina Basu.

Using timeless gestures of labor, Shah’s initial solo depicted the harsh conditions endured by women of her ancestry. She motioned carrying a jug on her head and made several laborious traverses of the space—punctuated with the occasional loud foot slap. At one point, Shah slid to the floor, her torso in convulsive throbs, then was soon on her feet clapping her hands like a command before pounding a rhythm onto the floor with her heels. Her classical skills were evident as she portrayed the care of a baby only to jump up and pull off a sequence of complex foot percussion leading into a crescendo of spins that suddenly froze in a gestural pose. Shah brilliantly fashioned this typical Kathak display to serve the narrative of women laboring, giving birth, and returning to work without missing a beat—acknowledging their unsung strength and perseverance. The work went on to address the west’s misinterpretation and commodification of Indian arts and culture employing a captivating video projection by Raj Soni of early twentieth-century orientalist performances. In the video, archival photos (featuring Ram Gopal, Uday Shankar, and Ruth St. Denis) kept replicating. With each reproduction, the performers doubled in number in a symbolic mass production of exoticized Indian culture. Shah clearly has much to say and is quite creative and skilled at finding the means to communicate complex histories and emotions with her art form.

Bijayini Satpathy dancing “Abhipsaa—a seeking.” Photograph by Ewallop | Asia Society

Night three featured Odissi artist Bijayini Satpathy performing “Abhipsaa—a seeking,” a work that had its world premiere at Duke Performances in 2021 and its New York premiere in 2023 reviewed here. Satpathy displayed her creative intelligence and penchant for surprise adding a new section for this performance called “Ahrini.” The new addition followed nicely after the opening dance as both sections depict narratives of young girls ruminating on a future love life. In “Ahrini,” the character weighs out the qualities she might want in a lover comparing the playful god Krishna to the fearsome god Shiva. The choice became obvious as Satpathy danced about in rapturous delight, her arms held in the flute-playing gesture associated with Krishna. Satpathy’s large, expressive eyes followed her every hand gesture relaying the lighthearted ease the young girl imagines for herself with Krishna. In an instant, Satpathy transitioned to being in the company of Shiva with his overwhelming power. First, she embodied the formidable energy of this god of destruction and creation dancing through poses associated with Shiva’s physical bearing. This included a mimed depiction of his long, matted dreadlocks and his all-seeing third eye. Then Satpathy pivoted to portray how the girl imagines she would feel in his overpowering presence—conveyed with her transparent facial expression and a meek bow. The section concluded with the girl’s choice finalized as Satpathy’s face disclosed a dreamy air while her body settled into a luxuriant Odissi pose of the flute-playing god.

The clarity and nuance with which Satpathy renders a character is unmatched. In “Virahi—in longing” a dance in which Krishna aches for his lover Radha, Satpathy dances Krishna’s aspiration, his memories, the present reality, and all his feelings along the way. In one sequence, Satpathy clutched at the air as if hugging Radha, her face filled with bliss from those memories. Harsh reality intruded abruptly when Satpathy’s arms—clasping at nothing—fell to the ground with a thud. No holding back, Satpathy dances her characters into vivid life, and brings everyone along for the dramatic ride.

Dancing the Gods leaves the cultural landscape of New York City greatly enriched and indelibly changed for the better. A bow of gratitude goes to Rajika Puri for showing New York audiences what it means to “dance the gods” and introducing us to the sublime artists who do it.

Karen Greenspan

Karen Greenspan is a New York City-based dance journalist and frequent contributor to Natural History Magazine, Dance Tabs, Ballet Review, and Tricycle among other publications. She is also the author of Footfalls from the Land of Happiness: A Journey into the Dances of Bhutan, published in 2019.

comments

Featured

REVIEWS | Karen Greenspan

Mishima’s Muse

Japan Society’s Yukio Mishima centennial series culminated with “Mishima’s Muse – Noh Theater,” which was actually three programs of traditional noh works that Japanese author Yukio Mishima adapted into modern plays.

Plus