The fourteenth and final edition of Dancing the Gods—a festival of Indian dance curated by visionary artist Rajika Puri—was presented in collaboration with Asia Society and the World Music Institute from 16-18 May, 2025, at Asia Society, New York City. The festival opened with a pre-performance tribute honouring Rajika Puri’s legacy as a curator, followed by three luminous evenings of dance featuring Mythili Prakash, Parul Shah, and Bijayini Satpathy. Each artist brought to the stage a distinct and powerful voice—deeply rooted in tradition, yet boldly forging new pathways shaped by their personal vision and ideological clarity.

Mythili Prakash’s Jwala (Rising Flame)

A luminous testimony to grief, memory, and rebirth

On a darkened stage, a soft yellow glow emerges – a single flame trembles—subtle at first, then unfurling into flickering tongues of fire to rhythms of the mridangam.  This is the evocative opening of Mythili Prakash’s Jwala. With masterful precision, she conjures the elemental force of fire through her fingers — fire that devastates and consumes, but also fire that births, purifies, and renews. The narrative is deeply personal to her, choreographed after her beloved father’s passing and the birth of her daughter. It resonates universally, guiding the audience through an intimate landscape of loss, cherished memories, fleeting moments of love, anguish, and the quiet joy of new beginnings. 

Her abhinaya, whether expressing the anguish of loss or love for her daughter in Subramanya Bharati’s Chinanchiri kiliye is deeply moving. In one phrase, she holds a stillness from within and in other moments releases energy like prayer. Her transitions are seamless: from lament to resilience.

The use of voice-over by Mythili Prakash’s daughter Rumi, and Mythili herself serves as a deeply intentional dramaturgical and emotional device. In Rumi’s chanting of the Maha Mrityunjaya mantra there is a sense of continuity and the transmission of memory and fire across generations of women. The child's voice - innocent and resonant - bridges the ancient with the contemporary and symbolic of ‘passing the torch’. 

The soundscape and lighting create an imaginative depth that materializes the presence of fire and the scorched ground. The musical ensemble—Ananya Ashok and Rohit Jayaraman (vocals), Rohan Krishnamurthy (mridangam, vocals), and Sruti Sarathy (violin, vocals) crafted a sonic experience that skillfully fused the classical rigour of Carnatic music with ambient and electronic textures. However, in two transitions from live music to voice-over, the audio clarity faltered, momentarily disrupting the immersive experience. Despite this, Jwala remains unapologetic, luminous, and boundless.

Parul Shah’s All that Lies

Dancing between Disruption and Acquiescence

Toni Morrison once wrote, ‘The body is the site of memory’. In Shah’s choreography, the body becomes both the archive and the field of diasporic struggle.

In All that Lies, Parul Shah delivers a searing, sophisticated reflection on the South Asian female body - its identity, perception, and negotiation—within the frameworks of Indian classical tradition with a global sensibility. The work is not just a choreographic offering; it is a dismantling of binaries. Shah resists static notions of authenticity, instead presenting identity as something fluid, shaped by history, culture, gender, and place. 

At its heart All that lies, much like the play of dual meaning in the word “lies” itself, lies the tension between disruption and acquiescence, a duality that Shah names with honesty. The work challenges Orientalist projections, not only from the West but also from within South Asian communities. Shah’s response is layered: her body carries only Kathak in formal training, yet it absorbs the world through lived experience.

The performance juxtaposes traditional Kathak elements—tukras ( short phrases) , and rhythmic footwork—with disruptive visual and sonic textures. Projections of Ruth St. Denis, Uday Shankar, and Ram Gopal - the pioneers of Orientalist and self-Orientalist renderings of Indian dance from the archives of Dwight Godwin/ Jacob’s Pillow - float across a screen as Shah’s ensemble performs Kathak. This deliberate visual counterpoint exposes how the perception of Indian dance in America has been shaped by distortion, commodification, and fantasy. Clearly it is not meant to be ignored but confronted.

Shah’s decision to use an ensemble –Anjali Tanna, Priyanka Tope, and Maithili Patel rather than performing solo, adds resonance to the narrative. Their presence - embodied, collective, and contemporary—enacts the transmission of history, both inherited and interrogated. The screen, the dancers, and the live performers – Priyanka Tope and Narendra Budhakar ( singers) form a three-part conversation: between past and present, gaze and selfhood, legacy and agency.

Musically, All That Lies also strays from the expected. Shah eschews the sarangi traditionally paired with Kathak for a sonic palette of violin and cello, composed and performed by Arun Ramamurthy and Jake Charkey. Their sounds are rich, resonant, and deeply emotional. The cello in particular becomes a character: not a disruption, but a weight, a depth, essential to the narrative arc. The spoken word sections - especially the line, “I disrupt, but I also acquiesce,” anchor the work’s political heart. Shah admits that disruption alone cannot sustain a life, acquiesce is necessary, especially for an artist negotiating grants, curators, and cultural expectations. Her work does not posture purity; it simply embraces contradiction.

And in that, All That Lies asks an urgent question: what is ‘authentic’ when the gaze that defines it is fractured? Shah doesn’t offer answers. Instead, she dances in the space between labels. She calls herself a “contemporary mover,” drawing from Kathak but unbound by it. It is a refusal not of tradition, but of containment.

If the work provokes discomfort, it succeeds. For what is more truthful than art that unsettles expectation and makes visible all that lies beneath the surface?

Bijayini Satpathy’s Abhipsa: A Seeking

Where Technique Meets Transcendence  

Abhipsa: A Seeking - emerges from years of inner inquiry into rasa, stillness, and freedom. Comprising four choreographic works, the performance traces the emotional arc of a traditional margam, reimagined through a contemporary lens. 

The performance commenced with Oned–Vigraha and Ahirini, a meditative invocation that departs from conventional formats. Rather than a neutral act of salutation, Satpathy frames this piece as an internal dialogue of a young nayika encountering the images of the non-dual divine form of Ardhanareeswara and the formless-form of the Śiva linga. Based on Adi Shankaracharya’s Ardhanareeswara stotram, the images of the lord empower the nayika to envision a potential union. In this union, the sensual and spiritual coexist. The phrase ‘namah Sivaya’ is removed to accommodate the sensual sensibilities of love. Similarly, the gestures are intimate, curved, and emotionally charged, reflecting Satpathy’s proposition that Odissi, at its core, is a profoundly sensual form, even in prayer. The ‘oneness’ and ‘vigraha’ (form/image) of the divine become mirrors for the seeking self.

In Ahirini, the name likely deriving from ahi (serpent), evokes imagery of fluidity, grace, sensual power, and grounded, primal femininity—qualities evident in Bijayini’s movement choices and symbolic language. Based on Kazi Nazrul Islam’s poem and composition in Bengali , the rich musical and lyrical textures revel in the pure dance vocabulary of Odissi. The energy here is expansive, physical, and sculptural—demonstrating Satpathy’s signature movement language rooted in her Odissi Sampurna Sadhana training system.

The third piece, ‘Virahi’, explores the themes of longing and separation, drawing inspiration from Jayadeva’s astapadi, Sakhi he sidati tava virahe vanamali. In this evocative verse, Krishna confides in the sakhi his profound suffering in Radha’s absence, revealing his emotional vulnerability. Bijayini commences the piece with a captivating and sensual image: she appears as Krishna envisioning union with Radha, her torso executing graceful, controlled spirals—prachala, a gesture both daring and aesthetically pleasing. In that moment, sensuality is not implied; it is embodied and laid bare with honesty and grace.

From this opening, the choreography avoids clichés and unfolds with striking emotional nuance. Krishna’s sorrow intensifies, his body restrained by longing. The sakhi, traditionally a messenger of Radha’s messages, now becomes the recipient of Krishna’s anguish and the intermediary between two emotional realms. The spatial arrangement is precise: Krishna, sakhi, and Radha are positioned along a diagonal - each occupying their own temporal and emotional domain.

However, it is not merely space that undergoes a radical transformation; sentiment is also reoriented. While Radha is frequently depicted as the one suffering in anguish, here Krishna assumes the role of the sufferer. The sakhi remains neutral and grounded, while Radha, unexpectedly, appears joyful at his suffering. In Virahi, Satpathy reimagines the emotional grammar of classical love. By reversing the anticipated emotional tones, Satpathy subverts traditional tropes of gender and devotion.

In the concluding section, ‘Vimukthi’, Bijayini’s personal expression reaches its zenith. Inspired by the unexpected passing of her father during the pandemic, she turns to Kabir’s poetry not in sorrow, but in a state of profound ecstasy. The dancer transforms into a mystic enigma, a soul dancing in joyous liberation, transcending the limitations of identity and ego. “Vimukthi” transcends conventional technique, becoming an expression of pure joy and a celebration of life. It serves as a poignant reminder that death is not an end, but rather a gateway to new beginnings.

Abhipsa stands as a portal, offering a path back to the essence of Odissi—its internal rhythm, sensuality, and philosophical underpinnings - while simultaneously daring to envision a future beyond the present. Bijayini’s choreography extends beyond mere execution; it is the construction of a novel framework for learning, embodiment, and reflection. In an era characterized by artistic repetition and nostalgia, Abhipsa boldly questions the true nature of seeking and being sought - by form, emotion, and freedom.

The music, recorded specifically for the performance, features the soulful vocals of Bindumalini Narayanaswamy, whose nuanced rendering adds emotional texture and resonance to each piece. Lighting by Robin A. Ediger-Soto, paired with a minimalist yet evocative set design by Sujay Saple and Niranjan Gokhale, bring  aesthetic coherence to Abhipsa, making the evening a sensorial and contemplative experience for the audience.

As the curtains closed on Dancing the Gods, one is filled with deep gratitude for the tireless work of Rajika Puri—artist, curator, and storyteller—whose unwavering vision and dedication brought Indian classical dance to global stages with nuance, integrity, and grace. Her curatorial legacy lies not only in the artists she presented, but in the conversations she sparked, the bridges she built, and the artistic excellence she championed over the years.

Pc: Rachel Cooper