The silent cry of the Gungroo - Mutation and monetization of classical dance

- Dr. Lata Surendra
e-mail: kalashrilata29@gmail.com

June 8, 2026

For generations, classical art was not merely performed; its sacredness was preserved as its strength. It lived as a sacred trust, passed from breath to breath, born of a quiet reverence for the unseen and the eternal. Today, that protective shield has shattered. Be it the lucrative choreographers or the masses who lap it all up, we are stretching the crazy urge inside in seeking to impress more than express to extreme limits.

Ananya Panday's viral Chand Mera Dil controversy is the living embodiment of a tragedy that laments the death of a sacred art form - with Bollywood just staging the execution to create an uproar all around. Panday's viral "fusion" dance was labeled a "catastrophic misunderstanding" of Bharatanatyam by eminent dancer Anita R. Ratnam. Even committed performers all over the world and critics have watched Panday's performance and watched aghast at a centuries-old spiritual discipline being reduced to aggressive, soulless modern gymnastics. Panday's team defended the act as a "creative experiment," proving the point that today you have systems that prioritize cheap entertainment over cultural guardianship.

Today's artistes view themselves merely as entertainers rather than guardians of a sacred heritage. Fearing the verdict of a profit-driven industry where artistic compromise is the price of survival, few dare to champion the true system. We watch with quiet grief as pure folk and classical traditions are butchered on the altar of reality television, reduced to mere instruments of shock value. Manmade monstrosities like "Disco Dandiya" are paraded about, stripping away the spiritual sanctity of our roots.

Worse still, the very choreographers and mentors entrusted with our lineage seem to have lost their way. They orchestrate a scenario where mere acrobatics soar above the depth of performing arts. We are left to witness the sorrow of Bharatanatyam twisted to Bollywood beats, where immortal melodies like "Raina Beeti Jai" and others are jarringly reimagined as cinematic 'padams'. Even festivals are curated with cinematic songs to draw the crowd and cremate the sanctity of the art, drowning and calling for help in a tide of commercialism.

Oh, yes - how deeply we yearn for the golden eras of classical grace! We remember the master choreographers and the luminous, lotus like grace of Kamala, Padmini, Ragini, Dr. Vyjayantimala Bali, and Gopi Krishna. Through their devotion, forms like Kathak and Bharatanatyam transcended the boundaries of tradition to become a cultural craze even within the concrete jungle of Mumbai. In those days, young and eager souls lined up to enroll, hungry to imbibe a chosen style under the watchful, uncompromising eye of a committed Guru.

Actors today view themselves as entertainers, not cultural guardians, and they rarely fight the system because doing so risks career suicide in an industry that prioritizes survival and profit over artistic purity.

But then what about the so-called stream of dancers, choreographers, and mentors themselves creating a scenario with acrobatics soaring over performing arts and Bharatanatyam with Bollywood songs?

We had the legendary Pandit Lachhu Maharaj who debuted as a choreographer in Indian cinema and shaped the performances of Bollywood's greatest leading ladies. Recognized globally as a Kathak maestro, maestro Pandit Birju Maharaj (also from the Lucknow Gharana) composed and choreographed for highly acclaimed Indian films. The legendary Guru Vazhuvoor Ramiah Pillai taught and showcased star silver-screen dancers like Kumari Kamala, Vyjayantimala, and the Travancore Sisters (Lalitha, Padmini, and Ragini) in several blockbuster films.

Today, a sacred, centuries-old art form like Bharatanatyam and other classical and folk forms are being stripped of their spiritual depth just for cheap entertainment value.

The beauty of the adavus is now replaced with body techniques and calculated drills, without realizing that these adavus accord self-control more than physical control. Each thick-skinned youngster today taking up teaching has one aim, which is to create a package to push into educational systems, to market it into curriculums, and gather systems to imbibe these easily. The imaginative, financially well-off, and respected mentors also join the race to promote drills and tools as part of classical dance training, all in the name of body control.

The sudden influx of gym drills, resistance bands, yoga blocks, and biomechanical tools under the guise of "body conditioning" and "injury prevention" is fundamentally altering how classical dance is taught. When gurus and mentors jump onto this trend, it often masks a deeper failure in traditional teaching methods, creating several distinct points of friction within the parampara (tradition). You have the redundant replacement of traditional conditioning with the irony of "Body Control."

Classical Indian dance forms are entirely self-contained, rigorous physical conditioning systems. For generations, perfect body control, core stability, and lower-body endurance were built through the repetitive, grueling practice of basic adavus (steps) held in a perfect Araimandi (half-squat).

Mentors frequently use resistance bands or ankle weights because they provide a visible, quick shortcut to muscle activation instead of building the long-term, specialized muscle memory that comes from hours of pure dance practice. Students are given gym drills that train muscles for linear movement rather than the complex, multidimensional geometry of Bharatanatyam.

Monetization and content creation have taken over mentorship. In an overcrowded digital space, many modern mentors use fitness tools to make their teaching look "scientific," modern, and premium. It allows them to package standard dance training into trendy "conditioning workshops" or "bootcamps" that can be easily monetized online.

You have today the aesthetics of the drill. It is far easier to market a "30-day ankle-strengthening drill" than it is to explain the spiritual and physical endurance required to master a single Varnam over the course of a year.

Just look at the disconnect from geometric grace, muscle hypertrophy vs. fluidity! Gym exercises focus heavily on muscle contraction and hypertrophy (building mass). While cross-training is beneficial for stamina, over-indexing on standard gym drills can make a dancer's body rigid and cause it to lose its aesthetic lines. The classical dance forms of India rely heavily on the fluid flow of the grammar of the dance form, effortless extensions, and statuesque framing.

When the body is trained primarily to fight resistance (like gym tools), the subtle, fluid transitions between movements become blocky, aggressive, and athletic rather than artistic. This athletic obsession shifts the ultimate goal of classical dance. The stage is no longer a sacred space to evoke bhava (emotion) and rasa (sentiment) in the audience; it becomes an arena to show off physical feats - how high a leg can lift, or how many spins can be executed. When mentors focus heavily on the mechanics of the tool, they treat the student's body like a machine to be optimized rather than an instrument of spiritual storytelling. While supplemental sports medicine has a valid place in helping professional dancers recover from injuries, incorporating gym culture directly into the daily fabric of classical dance classrooms risks erasing the unique, organic physical culture of the dance itself.

Ultimately, we cannot simply dismantle a system we have quietly allowed to reshape us into passive receptors - a compliant flock chasing the hollow currency of metrics, audiences, and algorithmic applause. Instead, the duty falls upon each of us to fiercely safeguard our own unique cultural identity. If art is to truly survive, it needs to be carried on the shoulders of those quiet, dedicated mentors - the hidden jewels scattered across the globe who understand that innovation is inevitable but it is not the enemy of tradition, but its very breath to ensure continuity. Mentors who remind us that creativity must adapt its innate grammar to changing times without severing its core.

Tradition is the foundation and innovations are its branches reinforcing its very essence through adapting its innate grammar to an ever-changing life always. Realization of it is knowing that we only touch the heavens by anchoring ourselves firmly on earth. Like the grandest tree reaching for the stars or the wildest bird soaring out of sight, our greatest heights are forever anchored to the home that birthed us.

Dr. Lata Surendra is a performer, mentor, an imaginative choreographer, a sought after curator, a dance journalist, a committed independent researcher, a sensitive poet and in the field of dance for over six decades.

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