March 2026 Music & Dance Season Special Edition — Sruti Magazine

COVER STORY

A look at the dance season gone by               V.V. Ramani

Year after year, the excitement and frenetic activity in the performing arts arena, with a mind-boggling number of performances across every part of Chennai, slowly wanes as the month of Margazhi comes to an end. This year, the cultural calendar was overflowing.

Taking baby steps with the big players, Rasoham, headed by Laasya Narasimhachari, has begun to garner support for their annual ‘Kutty Kutchery’ festival. In their third year, this festival held across varied spaces, featuring a wide range of art forms, brings the audience to respond to the art in intimate spaces.

In this edition of the ten-day festival, the musical evening by Anil Srinivasan, Sikkil Gurucharan and Madhan Karky was an engaging musical interaction at Narthaki Studios where the three of them shared their experiences and the process with which they ideate and present songs. The most interesting piece was an almost impromptu one, where Madhan penned the lyrics in the morning, and Anil and Gurucharan translated that into a musical rendition by evening. The camaraderie between the artists, the intimacy of their interface with the listeners, made this an enriching experience. In a scenario where artists often perform to almost empty halls, Kutty Kutchery is probably an answer to take arts to smaller spaces and engage with a new set of interested listeners. 

INTERVIEW

Dance as becoming – Padmini Ravi                           Janani Murali

Padmini Ravi is a name familiar to the world of dance. Her journey, spanning over forty years as a performer, choreographer, teacher, and lifelong student, has been marked by both recognition and reflection. While awards and titles have accompanied her path, she places greater value on the choices she has made along the way. Trained under K.J. Sarasa, the doyenne of the Vazhuvoor bani of Bharatanatyam, Padmini’s life in dance offers a considered view of an artist shaped as much by pauses as by performance.

What brought you to the world of dance?

My mother’s sister was a student of Subbaraya Pillai, but there was otherwise no family background in dance.
I began learning at the age of nine, at a time when my father’s death had made me withdrawn. A friend of my mother suggested dance as a way to engage with other children and find some emotional balance. That was in 1966, and my teacher was K.J. Sarasa at Sarasalaya.

I went to dance class after school hours seven days a week. One would start with the adavus, and any piece that teacher wanted us to practice that day.

Did you know early on that dance was meant to be a lifelong tryst?

Dance became an integral part of my life without my conscious knowledge. Neither my grandmother, mother
nor I had any dreams of making a career out of dance. 

Sarasa Teacher was a prolific choreographer, so performances were aplenty. I joined class in the month of May and in November, she was performing Shakuntalam in Ujjain. I danced the Brindavani tillana as a court dancer. Dancing in Sarasalaya or at the many performances was part of learning with teacher. She considered me as her own daughter. Sarasalaya became a second home, although in complete contrast to the lifestyle and ways of life in my home, which was rooted in Vaishnavite tradition.

IN FOCUS

Music Education: The Old, Middle, and New Ways                            Gayatri Chandrashekar

Music is an art form that most of us respond to instinctively, yet it resists easy explanation. Even when there is broad agreement that a musical rendition is good, articulating what makes it so is far from simple. Is it melody—sruti shuddha and laya shuddha? Is it rhythmic sophistication, whether complex or restrained? Words often fall short when trying to capture music in its entirety. It is within this space—between experience and explanation—that teaching assumes significance, shaping not just technique but also sensibility, listening, and values.

Music pedagogy has changed considerably in the past decades. I can see a distinct old and classical style of teaching, its evolution and change into a middle way, and a modern, new method. I have been observing this evolution because I had the fortune of learning from a guru who was two generations older. This learning process lasted two decades. I had other teachers, too, who were of the previous generation as well.  I observe today’s teachers who are my contemporaries.

The old style practitioners belonged to the pre-radio days, the middle style practitioners were influenced by Akashvani and recordings, and the modern teachers are in the thrall of YouTube.

The old immersive method

When I was in my preteens, I had the rare opportunity of learning from my guru Kallidaikurichi Ramalinga Bhagavathar who represented the old teaching methods. In the late 1950s and 1960s, his teaching still reflected
the 1930s–1940s style. Even though the classes were conducted in our house where the guru visited (he
travelled over 30 kilometres by bus), it was one-to-one class. Bhagavathar was in his sixties when he started teaching me. I had already given music performances in the late 1950s by the age of eight, and he gave me lessons of a higher order.

‘Sing and show’ was his method of teaching. There was no big explanation as to the raga; only a casual mention of the name. However, the student had to replicate exactly as the guru sang with all the right nuances. I remember my first lesson with him—more than one hour was spent in learning the first two sangatis of the pallavi of the Navavarana kriti in Todi. Since Bhagavathar used to stay in our house for a few days at every visit, there were morning and evening sessions of learning.