With Bursts of Color and Energy, Indian Classics Get a Workout

With Bursts of Color and Energy, Indian Classics Get a Workout

Performers Showcase Classics at DanceFest India!

Richard Termine for The New York Times

DanceFest India! From left, Sujata Mohapatra, Ammr Vandal and Ayona Bhaduri in a performance Saturday called “Sacred Vision,” part of this festival at the Kumble Theater at Long Island University in Brooklyn.

Every dance idiom has its specialist audience, but one of the wonders of New York is the ease with which it offers even a general fan the chance to sample many idioms. Last week I watched six performances of American Ballet Theater's production of Frederick Ashton's “Sylvia” at the Metropolitan Opera House, with American, Argentine, Brazilian, Cuban, Italian and Russian dancers in the lead roles; I love both the work's music and its choreography. But on Saturday night, as I watched three types of classical Indian dance at the Kumble Theater in Brooklyn, I wanted to bring all those thousands of Lincoln Center balletomanes with me to see how this was just as marvelous - sometimes even more so.

Actually, the gestures, rhythms, plasticity and footwork of Ashton's choreography quite often contains a number of features so remarkably like Indian dance that I suspect there are stylistic links both direct and indirect. Saturday evening's performance, titled “Sacred Vision,” came at the end of a DanceFest India! week of workshops and classes; it offered leading exponents of three of India's foremost classical genres, Odissi, Bharata Natyam, and Kathak. In particular it presented, at the end of its first half, the Odissi dancer Sujata Mohapatra, who - as Saturday's performance proved - is one of the great dance soloists of our time.

Her two dances followed two by another Odissi dancer, Ayona Bhaduri, who had perfectly shown many of the stylistic beauties of this genre: its sinuous sideways twists of the shoulders and pelvis; its contrast between firmly sculptural positions and long, flowing phrases; its communicative mime; and its purely formal and musical sequences. What more could Ms. Mohapatra offer? But she no sooner entered than she seized the audience up in her charm.

Dressed gorgeously in yellow and crimson, she offered marvels of sensuous coordination. All Western dancers of any kind could learn from the subtleties with which her eyes and hands move in luscious harmony. I was enchanted by the teasing merriment with which she held out a hand, palm down, and then connected little patterns of footwork with the way she gently tipped this outstretched hand from side to side.

Choreographed by her father-in-law, the renowned Odissi master Kelucharan Mohapatra, Ms. Mohapatra's two dances were “Hamsadhwani Pallavi,” a sheer-dance item, and “Ardhanariswara,” in which the dancer embodies the balance of the two sexes in one being, the union of the mighty Lord Shiva and his delicate wife, Parvati. The thundering vehemence of the god alternated with the melting sweetness of the goddess and sometimes merged; the dance became an act of spiritual contemplation as well as virtuoso enactment.

Ms. Bhaduri - who, dressed in black and red, danced an item by Kelucharan Mohapatra, “Pallavi Kirwani,” and one by Sharmila Biswas, “Katha Surpanakha” - is a quite extraordinary technician. Tiny details of individual fingers, extended or clenched, became absorbing in her performance; different rhythms, alertly shown, made her mere walk riveting. Circuits of turns and jumps were delivered with breathtaking assurance. She keeps her personality guarded and correct, but the fullness of commitment she gives to dance execution makes her a most impressive performer.

Two of the three items after the intermission were danced by Savitha Sastry in the Bharata Natyam style, with its firm, percussive meters and its ardently three-dimensional gestures. Though she's gifted and eloquent, her dances were mere sketches - her main item, excerpts from her “Soul Cages,” featured many changes of costume and lighting - but never allowed time for movement to sustain and build its own interest.

In between, Prashant Shah and Ammr Vandal danced a Kathak duet, “Yugai.” The whole program was danced to taped music, which is widespread in India as it is here. Live accompaniment would have enriched every piece, but it counts for most in Kathak, which so often rests on jazzlike sessions where dancer and musician work together to virtuoso effect. For this reason, I initially resisted much of “Yugai” - until I finally succumbed.

Ms. Vandal, who has an exceptionally beautiful face, wore a wide Kathak dress of green and gold over leggings, and large earrings; Mr. Shah wore azure over pale gold. At the climax of their dance, side by side, they spun, stopped and gestured; spun, stopped and gestured; spun, stopped and gestured - all at top speed, and all with complete calm and control. Another dazzling image came as she rapidly circled the stage while he revolved on the spot. Their charm lay in the marvelous blend of intense rhythmic excitement and personal composure. I hope to see them - and Ms. Mohapatra and Ms. Bhaduri - again.

This article has been revised to reflect the following correction:

Correction: July 2, 2013

An earlier version of this review misidentified the choreographer of “Katha Surpanakha.” She is Sharmila Biswas, not Kelucharan Mohapatra.

A version of this review appeared in print on July 2, 2013, on page C7 of the New York edition with the headline: With Bursts of Color and Energy, Indian Classics Get a Workout.