Malavika Sarukkai marks 50 years on the stage with a new production

Sitting on a sofa placed by a window, in the tastefully done up drawing room of her home in Chennai, Malavika Sarukkai often looks out fondly at the champa tree in her small garden. Elegant in a fuschia pink sari, the dancer talks about how the tree became her anchor during the pandemic. She also developed a deep bond with the bougainvillea tree in the open area that borders her spacious rehearsal space; it silently watched her practise for hours during the lockdown. “I danced alone and for myself. It was my only solace. Just being with dance, having a conversation with it, and observing the body more closely was extremely immersive,” says Malavika.

It was in those solitary moments that ‘Anubandh – Connectedness’, her new solo work, took shape. It will premiere tomorrow at NCPA (National Centre for the Performing Arts), Mumbai, followed by a performance on April 8 at Bengaluru.

“I worked on it slowly, for over two years, chiselling every thought and movement. It’s my response to what I experienced. The production is about dealing with the fear of the unknown and moving from a familiar to a strange space. It reinforces our deep links with the panchabhutas — generous earth, rejuvenating water, caressing wind, vast space and fire.”

Nature, literature, heritage and mythology have always found their way into Malavika’s choreography, which while being instantly recognisable also exhibits dynamic shifts. She thrives on contrasts, combining traditional aesthetics and contemporary sensibility. Overt theatricality that makes dance entertaining has never interested her; it is emotion that defines her oeuvre.

Malavika Sarukkai performing at The Music Academy in Chennai in 2010.
| Photo Credit: R. Ravindran

Experiment with abstraction

Twenty years after she began performing, Malavika decided to veer away from the margam to chart her own course. “Not because I found it insufficient, I was drawn to a more expansive format that would allow me to experiment with abstraction. I did not want to say things that had been repeated over the years. Tradition can be intimidating because it comes with structure. If you are trying to move the structure around, it has to be done with caution and care. One might have the most fantastic idea, but you need to find the perfect vocabulary to convey it in fullness. Bharatanatyam is not a repertoire, it is a language.”

Malavika belongs to a generation of performers whose openness to new possibilities made it experience dance as a liberating force. In the process, they nudged the audience to drop old viewing habits.

To me, her 2014 performance of ‘Ganga’ at The Music Academy, Chennai, best exemplifies this. She became the voice of the river, the ancient city of Benaras, and the Vishwanath temple all at once through a riveting narrative that was a personal interpretation of the spiritual.

As Malavika completes 50 years as a performer, does she find it hard to expect the same perfectionism from her body? Does it unnerve her to think of a life without the stage?

“As a performing artiste, you have to listen to your body at all times. If you are not mindful of your body, you cannot dance because the body shapes your technique, helps you communicate, and gain excellence. Dancers are like athletes, we overstrain certain parts of the body; the posture and repetition of movements, especially, in classical dance can cause injury. Aches and pains can come anytime, even when you are 25.”

Malavika Sarukkai
| Photo Credit: Karthikeyan B

It is not just the physical exhaustion. Older artistes, despite having performed hundreds of shows, are constantly expected to raise the bar and that pressure can be greater than the threat of ageing. “But at that age, you also realise that dance is not only about the body,” says Malavika. “What matters more is the emotional energy you invest in your art. And that requires a different and nuanced approach. It takes you to places you have never been before and helps you go on without feeling that you have done it all.”

Writer Brian Schaefer in his piece on American ballet dancer Wendy Whelan’s post-retirement performance at 48, wrote, “While it may be impolite to dwell on Whelan’s age… she steps beyond ballet’s suggested expiration date and demonstrates that lifelong curiosity and experience are as valuable artistic tools as pirouettes and penchée.”

When Malavika began training as a young girl, she did not plan a life in dance. “One performance led to another and I soon felt this is what I want to do. I have always listened to my inner voice. When it said, go for it, I did. If it now says stop, I will. When I was 35, I was once asked in an interview what I would do when I retire. And I said what? Retire? Today, of course, I think about it often. I will dance as long as my body as an instrument makes the music I want to hear. Others might say, you are dancing wonderfully, please continue. But I cannot go by that.”

Looking back, she now realises why her mother was so passionate about dance and wanted Malavika to pursue it. “Because she obviously saw many things in it which I could not, but I do now. There is discovery to be made at every point of time in the journey. So there’s never a sense of ennui. It fills you with utsah (excitement) that keeps you refreshed and makes your dance come alive,” says Malavika.

Older artistes, despite having performed hundreds of shows, are constantly expected to raise the bar and that pressure can be greater than the threat of ageing.