How are classical music and dance being passed on to the next generation in the UK? Jahnavi Harrison talked to Seeta Patel (dancer), Bhupinder Chaggar (tabla player), Preetha Narayanan (violinist) and Aakash Odedra (dancer) about their experiences. She finds that elements of the guru-shishya parampara are to be found as teachers work with enthusiastic and dedicated students.
The holistic learning environment of the traditional gurukul is a rarity outside India. Though lingering elements of the traditional system can still be seen, our four interviewees from the UK and USA all related common experiences that reveal a consistent pattern of training for young contemporary artists.
“Modern training usually begins with a weekly community class…”
Modern training usually begins with a weekly community class, often informal. Bharatanatyam artist Seeta Patel recalls: “It was a Saturday school where you could go to learn Hindi, Gujarati, etc. You had to choose one activity so I chose bharatanatyam. My first teacher was very enthusiastic, not a professional dancer but really loved it, so I got a lovely introduction, but not very serious.”
Tabla player Bhupinder Chaggar’s early inspiration was more self-directed: “I started playing at the age of 4. My dad was on his way to India and I asked him for a tabla. When he brought one back my brother started to go to weekly group lessons. I really wanted to join in but the teacher always said I was too young. Instead, he let me sit on the side of the class and listen, and I did that for over a year.”
“…my teachers were like my mothers.”
Commonly, as training continues, certain students distinguish themselves by their marked passion and dedication to learn. If the student is loyal to their teacher, the seeds of a deep relationship are sown. Preetha Narayanan recalls: “I was privileged because my teachers were like my mothers. After school I would go to a pre-college programme where we’d be working very intimately with the teacher in small ensembles – and that was in addition to youth orchestras on the weekend. I had so many opportunities…”
“My gurus were my superheroes.”
Aakash Odedra remembers his own sense of dedication in his early training at the age of 8: “My gurus were my superheroes. They became my living form of God; they were the closest thing to dance. I used to wait for the whole week to go to class on Saturday; there was no need for an alarm because I was just so enthusiastic to go and spend time with them.”
Institutions like Kalakshetra or the UK’s Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan may provide breadth of learning, but this is afforded to a relatively small group of students compared to the number studying nationally. With a need to give their students an in-depth holistic experience, local teachers often supplement their training by setting up summer camps, workshops and performances. Preetha Narayanan joined many such programmes in the US: “Great teachers and students from around the country would come to a beautiful place and spend two or three months immersed in playing. The idea was the same as a gurukul − intensively concentrating on an art without the distraction of day-to-day life. We would work with different conductors each week and after orchestra we would do all kinds of jolly activities with our peers. It was pretty transformative.”
“I didn’t have a clue about his stature or about the guru-shishya relationship. It transformed my life.”
One of the best-known champions of top-quality musical education in the UK is musician-educator Dharambir Singh MBE. Bhupinder Chaggar remembers that his encouragement led to his union with his future guru, Pandit Sharda Sahai: “Dharambirji organised a lot of events and introduced Guruji to coming to Leeds on a weekly basis. Dharambirji entered me into this competition at Guruji’s organisation in London. I won, along with Roopa Panesar, and Dharambir was insistent that I needed to become a disciple of Guruji. He said: ‘You’ll learn properly.’ He asked Guruji on my behalf if he would accept me. I didn’t have a clue about his stature or about the guru-shishya relationship. It transformed my life.”
Some teachers even start to take their students abroad with them, offering an even greater learning opportunity. Seeta recalls her teacher Kiran Ratna taking her to India for the first time aged 16; likewise Aakash accompanied his teacher Nilima Devi at the age of 15 and made a surprising decision to stay there: “I was only 15 but I had an urge to go – like salmon being pulled to travel upstream. My soul just told me I had to dance somewhere else, away from England. I went with my teacher for three weeks and when she left, I stayed. When you start to come of age sometimes it’s good to be in a different environment.”
“Some teachers even start to take their students abroad with them… I was only 15 but I had an urge to go – like salmon being pulled to travel upstream.”
As the relationship between teacher and student deepens, there is usually a move toward one-to-one private classes, often working towards a formal public graduation. For most students, private classes mean an extra endeavour at an age where many are too young to drive and juggling competing priorities with school. Seeta Patel remembers her determined desire to learn: “I was hungrier for more and would get on the train and go to Kiran’s house in Wales. I think I was the only one whose parents were letting them go on their own in that way. They would drop me off and pick me up and come to a few shows. I had support but I’m the one who wanted to do it, turn up early and sweep the floor. I am really glad about that because I know that it was all from my own incentive and drive.”
“I had support but I’m the one who wanted to do it, turn up early and sweep the floor.”
Aakash had a similar experience of a growing solo determination as well as a deepening relationship with his teachers: “After a certain point it was all individual. When you start out there are thirty people in your class, but by the time you reach 20 you’re all on your own. I felt exposed and I had to learn to break another barrier of feeling that all the attention was on me. My parents used to drop me off but hardly ever attended a show, unlike all the other students. I started to compensate for not having my parents there, looking at my teachers as my parents. I used to help with odd jobs to clean the studio mirrors, hoover, go into the office and help with administration. It did feel like a modern gurukul system − they really did everything to take me under their wing.”
“From 18 until Guruji passed away there were blocks of time when I would go and live with him,” recalls Bhupinder. “In one or two months, it would be a year’s worth of work – it would supplement me for years. I would have to go away and digest it all. From 8 to 12 in the morning we would practise and he would allow me to sit with him during his practice also, which I know was an exception; he didn’t allow that with anyone else. My guru was so accommodating. Sometimes he would teach repertoire, or he might sit for four hours, listening to me playing.”
As the student becomes advanced the personal training continues, but often alongside broader artistic training in institutions or with other mentors. Aakash forged new relationships with teachers in India such as Asha Joglekar and Chhaya Kantaveh, and later began mentorship under Akram Khan. Seeta found a lasting connection with Mavin Khoo and began to choreograph and collaborate with contemporary dancers. Bhupinder began studying Music Production at Leeds College of Music and later helped to record and produce many of his guru’s albums.
“There’s… a teacher who you’re very close to, who is passing on a culture of knowledge and values… a holistic experience gives one the tools to express and create and be themselves…”
For Preetha, after undergoing rigorous training in Western classical music, she felt pulled towards reconnecting with her Indian roots, earning a Fulbright scholarship to go and study Carnatic vocal and violin in Chennai at a traditional gurukul headed by Smt. Seeta Rajan. She is now working on a PhD that takes a deeper look at what it means to have a holistic learning experience: “Classical music in the East and West – although the style of music is different, there’s still a teacher who you’re very close to, who is passing on a culture of knowledge and values. I feel a holistic experience gives one the tools to express and create and be themselves, rather than having to be about reproducing an exact style.”
Each artist is unequivocal in their praise of their teachers and early training. But how does training and mentorship continue into the life of the professional artist? Seeta shares that it can be challenging: “I have to be very resourceful now, more than when my teachers were with me all the time. Since Mavin left the country I’ve had to have a reality check. I always have Pushkala aunty (Pushkala Gopal) and she’s a huge support, always there for me, but I have had to think laterally about how to progress within bharatanatyam. Mavin can’t always be there. I do class twice a week, teach, keep my body in shape and do yoga – my learning has become different.”
“The girls [I went to mentor] … just seemed to want to be told stuff… the solution is to have the sense of fear that I have with Mavin. There’s no way I would be late for class, messily dressed, or talk or yawn.”
As artists become educators themselves, it naturally follows that they pass on the learning environment they have experienced to a new generation. “It’s not a babysitting service, I make that very clear,” says Bhupinder, “but then the students who are taking the learning very seriously, I teach them at home. I deal with them the way my teacher used to deal with me. Money was never part of the equation. The guru’s duty is to take his students to beyond his level – there are very few musicians now who really want that.”
Some, like Seeta, feel concern over a seeming wane in enthusiasm among students, perhaps exacerbated by the ISTD formal exam system: “I went to mentor some girls recently and there just didn’t seem to be any hunger, they just seemed to want to be told stuff. It makes me think that the solution is to have the sense of fear that I have with Mavin. There’s no way I would be late for class, messily dressed, or talk or yawn.
“…we have to make the system relevant to the world we live in.”
“In a certain way introducing the ISTD syllabus for bharatanatyam and kathak is a step forward, but in other ways now parents have a gauge for how to push their child through the training. Now they can have a piece of paper to say their child reached a certain level, but how deep is it?”
Aakash, on the other hand, is optimistic about the future: “I’m glad there still is a gurukul system somewhere so you have the option to go and experience it. But we have to make the system relevant to the world we live in. It’s about allowing the dance to evolve and have a language of its own that doesn’t necessarily have the form or context of being from India.
“There is so much for students now, it’s better than ever before.”
There are so many opportunities − the CAT programme, Unlocking Creativity, Dance India in Liverpool. There is so much for students now, it’s better than ever before.”