Questioning the classical canon

The more our perception of art grows and evolves in a contemporary context, the more imperative it becomes to engage in rigorous dialogue on its fundamental constructs. Such conversations not only redefine but also demystify our understanding of essentials like form, structure, practice and process.

Two forums in March turned their attention to the foundational grammar of Indian classical arts.

A seminar by musician T M Krishna on form, structure and creativity, hosted by Bijayini Satpathy, and a lecture-demonstration by danseuse Malavika Sarukkai at the Bangalore International Centre invited audiences to engage more closely with what lies beneath performance.

While the subject warrants day-long discussions and long-form writing, even a slice of these interactions revealed an intricate warp and weft of ideas on classical art forms.

In a preamble to his talk, Krishna acknowledged two prevailing tendencies. On one end, critical discussions, limited as they are, often remain within comfort zones. On the other hand, there exists a view that nothing matters beyond the art itself, whether or not it adheres to form or structure.

He moved through his talk methodically: defining terms, illustrating them with examples, and then building a critical argument through questions. He described ‘form’ as a cohesiveness that offers definition, not just externally in appearance but internally in intention. Structure, he said, consists of multiple building blocks, such as laya, that together create this cohesive form. These components must be understood deeply before they can be questioned; training, rigour and repetition are therefore indispensable.

Drawing from his research into the history of ragas, he pointed to the stark differences between how a raga is imagined and rendered today and how it appears in older descriptive notations often treated as authoritative. Reflecting on his own practice, he questioned what binds the Thodi ragam of the past to the Thodi he performs today.

He concluded that these cohesive threads have not only shifted but, in some cases, been lost — through homogenisation, erasure and systemic oppression. Evolution, then, is not always organic; form can become a function of habit. As Frederick Matthias Alexander observed, what we are accustomed to often feels right.

Krishna also noted how engaging with historical texts unsettled his own sensibility. For him, challenging, altering, disrupting and even dismantling the notion of form is intrinsic to being in dialogue with it.

He argued that our education system rarely teaches us how to question responsibly, and that the act of questioning itself must be practised. Doubt, in this sense, is not an antagonistic aspect but essential to understanding structure.

If Krishna’s session interrogated music from within its conceptual scaffolding, Sarukkai’s lecture-demonstration offered a tactile entry into the inner workings of dance. Framed as an invitation to look “into” dance rather than merely “at” it, her session explored nritta and abhinaya as primary constructs that shape both external space and inner experience.

She began with the complex mathematics embedded in nritta, an aspect not often foregrounded in Bharatanatyam discourse. Breaking down a korappu — a progressive rhythmic descent — she revealed the layered precision within performance.

Through excerpts from her work Sthiti Gati, which explores the coexistence of stillness and movement, she spoke about choreography as a process of deliberate choice. From infinite possibilities of interpretation, visualisation, movement and music, the artist crafts an experience patiently and with intent.

Abhinaya, with its potential and precision, emerged vividly as she dissected a verse from the Naachiyaar Thirumozhi, evoking the layered emotional world of Andal.

What the audience ultimately sees is a finished whole, but Sarukkai carefully revealed the layers that build towards that experience. In doing so, she renewed a sense of wonder around the familiar, showing how classical arts continue to offer depth when approached attentively.

In her closing reflections, she spoke of how, with patience, the seemingly rigid grid of form and structure begins to loosen. She described manodharma not merely as improvisation but as a state of being — one where discipline settles so deeply within the artist that it becomes effortless.

Across both sessions, a shared impulse emerged: to look within the form rather than accept it at face value. Whether through questioning inherited structures or inhabiting them with greater awareness, both artists suggested that the familiar can still yield new, compelling perspectives when engaged with rigour.