Huge thanks are due to Mr. Naidu for uploading Vyjayanthimala's dance in the 1958 Hindi film Piya Milan (a dub of the 1956 Tamil film Marma Veeran) which was choreographed by the hereditary nattuvanar V.S. Muthuswami Pillai. I had speculated in my recent post (part one) on Muthuswami's film choreographies that this dance would be as fabulous as his direction of Vyjayanthimala in Chittoor Rani Padmini—and how true that turned out to be! But what stunned me most about the dance is that it appears to be a preserved example of the "Sadir" devadasi dance of yore known today as Bharatanatyam. It wasn't only the court setting and the costume but also the actual choreography and body language that signified this identification and caught my attention.
As I first watched the dance I could tell that something was different, and by the end I was struck by my reaction and the way I connected with the dance. I couldn't quite articulate why I thought it was an example of devadasi choreography or what it was that made the viewing experience so different from watching Vyjayanthimala's Bharathanatyam in Chittoor Rani Padmini. The dance had a certain je ne sais quoi that was unlike anything I'd seen before. When I first covered the topic of Devadasi-Like Dances in Classic South Indian Films, I focused more on the trappings of the dance like the time period, physical setting, camera work, and patron-focus. But I didn't have the knowledge to comment much on the actual movements and choreography. Blogger RameshRam had helped me form a very general view of what made devadasi dance different from its reworked Bharathanatyam form—essentially a wider berth given to internalized skill/spontaneity/grace versus strict classicism/statuesqueness/set parameters. But when I saw Vyjayanthimala's dance in Piya Milan, I knew that the subject was begging for further analysis and nuance. None of the devadasi film dances I'd seen so far had charmed me in such an intense way! What was it that made two dance choreographies designed by the same talented nattuvanar feel so different?
In conversation with blogger RameshRam, I learned that he not only felt the same charm in viewing the dance but also articulated the differences instantly and provided a fascinating analysis. Ramesh doesn't formally write much about dance, but he has a wealth of knowledge about Bharathanatyam and devadasi dance. I invited Ramesh to share his views which I have edited slightly and provided screencaps for. Read on below to watch the two dances and read Ramesh's excellent piece and thought-provoking conclusion.
Analysis by RameshRam:
Disclaimer: I would like to disclaim any impression you may get from reading my post that because I like to see the devadasi STYLE of dance, I am somehow craving for a return of the devadasi SYSTEM and its related patriarchal and flesh-trading trappings. I advise people to show a certain amount of academic detachment while reading my views on the subject.
The same dancer (Vyjayanthimala) and the same dance choreographer (Isai Velalar V.S. Muthuswami Pillai), but what a difference! These two clips are from within five years of one another and can be considered definitive of the two styles of classical South Indian dance as practiced before and after the Rukmini Devi reformation of the 1930-40s (the Piya Milan dance is definitive of Sadir or the devadasi dance, and the Chitoor Rani Padmini dance is definitive of the style that emerged as Bharathanatyam as practiced by upper-caste and non-traditional practitioners). Apart from the essential difference between classical dance (which usually has a knowledgeable and demanding audience) that Bharathanatyam was designed to be and the populist, people-pleasing classical/popular art form that Sadir had evolved into, there are specific and very telling differences between these two videos which were both choreographed and performed twenty years after the historical events creating Bharathanatyam. I will try to describe the essential differences designed into these dances as well as some peculiarities that are historical in nature.
The significance of Muthuswami Pillai's choreography, as well as Vyjayanthimala's dance, is that they both straddled a unique time period in the history of South Indian classical dance. Muthuswami Pillai came from Vaitheeswaran Koil and was part of the dance teacher community who between the 1930s and the 1970s created the modern-day Bharathanatyam from the more erotic Sadir (devadasi dance). Vyjayanthimala was born in 1936, learned dance from traditional practitioners before the Bharathanatyam take-over and was dancing traditional dance in the Mysore court by the mid-1940s. Both Muthuswami Pillai and Vyjayanthimala were among those who brought the art form fame and 'respectability' as class taboos were left behind (not without hard feelings on many fronts) as the art carried on into independent non-feudal India. I see these two clips as a defining authorial comment on the changes these key players brought to the culture of South Indian dance.
General observations:
You will notice between the earlier clip and the later that the dance is presented more formally and with less personal connection between the dancer and the audience. The earlier clip shows Vyjayanthimala trying to seduce the audience with her charm into a relationship with the dancer through dress, accessories, gesture, and eye contact. In the later clip, she is dressed to impress and to be definitive of a culture of dancing womanhood, but in her minimalist virtuosity doesn't deign to expect a reaction from the audience even if the audience is God.
Specific observations on each video:
Piya Milan - (Devadasi style) - The first thing you notice is Vyjayanthimala attracting attention toward her through soft hand and foot gestures intended to show beauty. When the camera pulls out, you can see that she is dressed like a Kathak dancer but completely in South Indian dance attire (the Bharathanatyam costumes were formalized and made to look more like South Indian statuary as will be evident in the Chitoor Rani Padmini piece). These earlier costumes were standard fare for devadasis dancing in the Chinna Melam where audiences were limited in number and private. Vyjayanthimala's hand and feet gestures have both a beautiful formalism as well as a lazy charm that is from the Sadir dance of that period. At no point does she give the impression that she is trying to teach people about her culture or dance but is instead trying to show them a happy, prosperous, and good time.
The setting she is dancing in is also interesting. She is surrounded by patrons who watch her admiringly and she never forgets that she is dancing to communicate to them. She takes the time to add grace to what are essentially pure dance gestures so that when someone who has no prior knowledge of Bharathanatyam watches the dance they can only see a well-stitched together set of gestures of a graceful dancer. The grammar of the dance takes a back seat to the beauty that the dancer imbues into the dance. Her pure dance interludes are filled with very well-executed formalism, but in the overall structure of the dance they come across as interludes between her natya (drama) essays. People who lamented in that time period that Sadir had descended into a crass, near-prostitution, salon-dancing style were perhaps oblivious to the fact that great dance teachers and dancers could create the kind of magic you see in the Piya Milan dance which is classy and seductive.
The entire effort seems geared towards creating a magical effect of storytelling from the dancer to each audience member—one at a time. The sense of magic is created because of the personal connection established by the dancer with the patron. For the patron, the rest of the audience has ceased to exist by the time the dancer has woven her web.
Chittoor Rani Padmini - In this Bharathanatyam piece, also choreographed by Muthuswami Pillai, you see a very different Vyjayanthimala. Here the dancer not only has the straight-backed elegance of a trained Bharathanatyam dancer, but she also has the introspective austerity of gesture that a dancer trying to project her art as a definitive symbol of her culture would practice. There is equal weight given to pure dance (which is straight-backed and well-executed) and natya (drama) which serves here to describe the complex compositional structure of the dance (perhaps this reflects the changed priority where Bharathanatyam dancers were more preoccupied with projecting the greatness of the dance and devadasis were more with entertaining their audience).
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.![]()
Vyjayanthimala is dressed and has the comportment of a temple statue from the Gupta Period, thus recalling the ancient natya shashtra traditions of Bharata Muni of yore. Her expressions while being very expressive of the lyrics of the dance do not allow the dancer any additional leeway in communicating with the unseeing audience (she dances to the stone idol in devotion). This does not mean that the dance is not expressive—rather like classical ballet the expressiveness of the dance is brought out by the formalist tropes that Bharatanatyam has evolved into from the highly-personal practitioners dance that was Sadir.
Conclusion:
So which dance was better? The pre-evolution Sadir or the post-evolution Bharathanatyam? While it is understandable to ask a question like that, as someone watching YouTube clips 50 years after the fact, the answer is really meaningless. I would like to see both kinds of dance practiced because they each have their personal voices imprinted deeply into what we can clearly see is a common tradition. However, we find that one of these traditions is lost, perhaps forever, because of the way classical and popular dance forms evolved between the 1930s and the 1970s. Both Muthuswami Pillai, who passed away in 1992, and Vyjayanthimala Bali, who is still alive as of this writing and has up to recently practiced Bharathanatyam, have quite consciously shaped the history and the form of classical dance in South India to suit the changing social milieu. Maybe there will be a conscious revival of devadasi-style classical South Indian dance with the postmodern maturity it takes to take and preserve all its component parts without needing to change it, censor it, or preserve it in academic formaldehyde. A living, growing dialogue between devadasi dance and Bharathanatyam can only be of cultural benefit to everyone concerned.
.jpg)
As I first watched the dance I could tell that something was different, and by the end I was struck by my reaction and the way I connected with the dance. I couldn't quite articulate why I thought it was an example of devadasi choreography or what it was that made the viewing experience so different from watching Vyjayanthimala's Bharathanatyam in Chittoor Rani Padmini. The dance had a certain je ne sais quoi that was unlike anything I'd seen before. When I first covered the topic of Devadasi-Like Dances in Classic South Indian Films, I focused more on the trappings of the dance like the time period, physical setting, camera work, and patron-focus. But I didn't have the knowledge to comment much on the actual movements and choreography. Blogger RameshRam had helped me form a very general view of what made devadasi dance different from its reworked Bharathanatyam form—essentially a wider berth given to internalized skill/spontaneity/grace versus strict classicism/statuesqueness/set parameters. But when I saw Vyjayanthimala's dance in Piya Milan, I knew that the subject was begging for further analysis and nuance. None of the devadasi film dances I'd seen so far had charmed me in such an intense way! What was it that made two dance choreographies designed by the same talented nattuvanar feel so different?
In conversation with blogger RameshRam, I learned that he not only felt the same charm in viewing the dance but also articulated the differences instantly and provided a fascinating analysis. Ramesh doesn't formally write much about dance, but he has a wealth of knowledge about Bharathanatyam and devadasi dance. I invited Ramesh to share his views which I have edited slightly and provided screencaps for. Read on below to watch the two dances and read Ramesh's excellent piece and thought-provoking conclusion.
The "Bharathanatyam" Dance in Chitoor Rani Padmini (1963)
Analysis by RameshRam:
Disclaimer: I would like to disclaim any impression you may get from reading my post that because I like to see the devadasi STYLE of dance, I am somehow craving for a return of the devadasi SYSTEM and its related patriarchal and flesh-trading trappings. I advise people to show a certain amount of academic detachment while reading my views on the subject.
The same dancer (Vyjayanthimala) and the same dance choreographer (Isai Velalar V.S. Muthuswami Pillai), but what a difference! These two clips are from within five years of one another and can be considered definitive of the two styles of classical South Indian dance as practiced before and after the Rukmini Devi reformation of the 1930-40s (the Piya Milan dance is definitive of Sadir or the devadasi dance, and the Chitoor Rani Padmini dance is definitive of the style that emerged as Bharathanatyam as practiced by upper-caste and non-traditional practitioners). Apart from the essential difference between classical dance (which usually has a knowledgeable and demanding audience) that Bharathanatyam was designed to be and the populist, people-pleasing classical/popular art form that Sadir had evolved into, there are specific and very telling differences between these two videos which were both choreographed and performed twenty years after the historical events creating Bharathanatyam. I will try to describe the essential differences designed into these dances as well as some peculiarities that are historical in nature.
The significance of Muthuswami Pillai's choreography, as well as Vyjayanthimala's dance, is that they both straddled a unique time period in the history of South Indian classical dance. Muthuswami Pillai came from Vaitheeswaran Koil and was part of the dance teacher community who between the 1930s and the 1970s created the modern-day Bharathanatyam from the more erotic Sadir (devadasi dance). Vyjayanthimala was born in 1936, learned dance from traditional practitioners before the Bharathanatyam take-over and was dancing traditional dance in the Mysore court by the mid-1940s. Both Muthuswami Pillai and Vyjayanthimala were among those who brought the art form fame and 'respectability' as class taboos were left behind (not without hard feelings on many fronts) as the art carried on into independent non-feudal India. I see these two clips as a defining authorial comment on the changes these key players brought to the culture of South Indian dance.
General observations:
You will notice between the earlier clip and the later that the dance is presented more formally and with less personal connection between the dancer and the audience. The earlier clip shows Vyjayanthimala trying to seduce the audience with her charm into a relationship with the dancer through dress, accessories, gesture, and eye contact. In the later clip, she is dressed to impress and to be definitive of a culture of dancing womanhood, but in her minimalist virtuosity doesn't deign to expect a reaction from the audience even if the audience is God.
Specific observations on each video:
Piya Milan - (Devadasi style) - The first thing you notice is Vyjayanthimala attracting attention toward her through soft hand and foot gestures intended to show beauty. When the camera pulls out, you can see that she is dressed like a Kathak dancer but completely in South Indian dance attire (the Bharathanatyam costumes were formalized and made to look more like South Indian statuary as will be evident in the Chitoor Rani Padmini piece). These earlier costumes were standard fare for devadasis dancing in the Chinna Melam where audiences were limited in number and private. Vyjayanthimala's hand and feet gestures have both a beautiful formalism as well as a lazy charm that is from the Sadir dance of that period. At no point does she give the impression that she is trying to teach people about her culture or dance but is instead trying to show them a happy, prosperous, and good time.
.jpg)
The setting she is dancing in is also interesting. She is surrounded by patrons who watch her admiringly and she never forgets that she is dancing to communicate to them. She takes the time to add grace to what are essentially pure dance gestures so that when someone who has no prior knowledge of Bharathanatyam watches the dance they can only see a well-stitched together set of gestures of a graceful dancer. The grammar of the dance takes a back seat to the beauty that the dancer imbues into the dance. Her pure dance interludes are filled with very well-executed formalism, but in the overall structure of the dance they come across as interludes between her natya (drama) essays. People who lamented in that time period that Sadir had descended into a crass, near-prostitution, salon-dancing style were perhaps oblivious to the fact that great dance teachers and dancers could create the kind of magic you see in the Piya Milan dance which is classy and seductive.
.jpg)
The entire effort seems geared towards creating a magical effect of storytelling from the dancer to each audience member—one at a time. The sense of magic is created because of the personal connection established by the dancer with the patron. For the patron, the rest of the audience has ceased to exist by the time the dancer has woven her web.
Chittoor Rani Padmini - In this Bharathanatyam piece, also choreographed by Muthuswami Pillai, you see a very different Vyjayanthimala. Here the dancer not only has the straight-backed elegance of a trained Bharathanatyam dancer, but she also has the introspective austerity of gesture that a dancer trying to project her art as a definitive symbol of her culture would practice. There is equal weight given to pure dance (which is straight-backed and well-executed) and natya (drama) which serves here to describe the complex compositional structure of the dance (perhaps this reflects the changed priority where Bharathanatyam dancers were more preoccupied with projecting the greatness of the dance and devadasis were more with entertaining their audience).
.jpg)
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
.jpg)
Vyjayanthimala is dressed and has the comportment of a temple statue from the Gupta Period, thus recalling the ancient natya shashtra traditions of Bharata Muni of yore. Her expressions while being very expressive of the lyrics of the dance do not allow the dancer any additional leeway in communicating with the unseeing audience (she dances to the stone idol in devotion). This does not mean that the dance is not expressive—rather like classical ballet the expressiveness of the dance is brought out by the formalist tropes that Bharatanatyam has evolved into from the highly-personal practitioners dance that was Sadir.Conclusion:
So which dance was better? The pre-evolution Sadir or the post-evolution Bharathanatyam? While it is understandable to ask a question like that, as someone watching YouTube clips 50 years after the fact, the answer is really meaningless. I would like to see both kinds of dance practiced because they each have their personal voices imprinted deeply into what we can clearly see is a common tradition. However, we find that one of these traditions is lost, perhaps forever, because of the way classical and popular dance forms evolved between the 1930s and the 1970s. Both Muthuswami Pillai, who passed away in 1992, and Vyjayanthimala Bali, who is still alive as of this writing and has up to recently practiced Bharathanatyam, have quite consciously shaped the history and the form of classical dance in South India to suit the changing social milieu. Maybe there will be a conscious revival of devadasi-style classical South Indian dance with the postmodern maturity it takes to take and preserve all its component parts without needing to change it, censor it, or preserve it in academic formaldehyde. A living, growing dialogue between devadasi dance and Bharathanatyam can only be of cultural benefit to everyone concerned.