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someone who is constantly trying to break free of conventions and stereotypes, he is remarkably consistent in his ideas and beliefs. There is no dichotomy in what Navtej Singh Johar, one of India’s most acclaimed dancers feels, observes and expresses. An accomplished Bharatnatyam dancer trained at Rukmini Devi Arundale’s Kalashetra and with Leela Samson at Shriram Bhartiya Kala Kendra, New Delhi, he is not just another Punjabi trained in the demanding dance form. As his creativity stretches boundaries, more pertinently metaphysical, it finds a palpable resonance in several of his dance productions like ‘Dravya Kaya’ and ‘Fana’a: Ranjha Revisited’. While his odyssey is dotted with many achievements such as Charles Wallace Fellowship, being the performance-director of the Commonwealth Parade for the Queen’s Golden Jubilee Celebrations at London in 2002, it’s the pursuit of intangible that engages him. Excerpts:As one of the first Sikh dancers in the country, do you think society has shed its prejudices about male dancers?
Yes, male dancers are becoming more and more acceptable. People are breaking free from the idea of only a female dancer. Women’s emancipation has also freed the female desire to see a dancing male body. I personally have never felt that I am different or an oddity. For me dance is beyond image, idea, race and gender.
Do you agree that your work is often characterised by a distinct language of abstraction?
I believe in the abstract. Art deals with that which is closer to the ‘essence’ and it is that which I am after. I do not know if my work is abstract enough yet, but I am definitely moving towards it. I am not sure if I have a distinct vocabulary as my works vary, but I certainly have a distinct aesthetics.
What has been the trigger for creating dance pieces on national heroes?
In 2004, I was commissioned to make a short dance film on Gandhi and then on Rabindranath Tagore for his birth centenary. I realised there is so little we know about them. Tagore inspired me deeply. To my mind he is the tallest Indian figure since the 19th century. He was not seduced by idealism like the others and retained the sanest voice, deeply political but anti-nationalistic during a time when nationalism was sweeping all over India. I marvel at his clarity. It is a shame that we don’t know enough about these incredibly inspiring people from whom we can learn so much. The idea to bring out the struggle, insight and wisdom of these geniuses inspired me to work on nodal personalities who participated, witnessed and insightfully commented upon the formation of India, a pivotal historical event that no Indian can escape.
What is the status on your piece on Guru Teg Bahadur?
I haven’t started work on it yet. I intend to make this work in Punjab and hope to start it soon.
Is tradition a source of inspiration for your contemporary works?
I would like to make a distinction here. There is tradition that we live, that we are continuously informed by, that flows through the way we live, eat, think, perceive and render the larger reality for ourselves. That is very exciting, unique, rich, poetic and experience-inducing. Then there is the ‘idea of India’ that has been part of the nationalistic project which converts culture and traditions into its USP, uses tradition to bolster the idea as well as the Indian identity. I have serious differences with the latter. My work is entrenched and deeply inspired by the Indian tradition which I love, but I am equally resistant, if not defiant, to the idea of appropriating tradition into the image-making machinery of India.
Is it right to call you a mixture of North and South?
I love and identify with Punjab and Tamil Nadu. I freely draw from them and consider them to be the two bookends of India and its culture; and for me there is continuity between the two, even if there may be differences.
Fana’a is one of your most acclaimed works. What does it represent to you?
It represents my love for Punjab and Tamil Nadu, and is a rebuttal to the idea of low and high culture.
Any concern that is particularly dear to you?
There are a number of things that inspire and agitate me. These include things that I love, and few things that I hate. I love the possibility of creating beauty through movement, poetry, music and design. I love the Indian way of imagining the body as in yoga and ‘tantra’. I love the possibility of entering the spiritual realm through the physical. I am fascinated by the fluid connection between the tangible and the intangible. I love the possibility of bringing about an attitudinal shift in the mind through the use of movement, word, sound and design. On the other hand, I hate the exhibition of culture, more so the cultural police. I abhor artificial binaries between moral and immoral; sacred and profane; modern and traditional. I detest social inequality and resist the use of culture in the building up of national identity.
Has Indian contemporary dance found its idiom?
Dance has traditionally not had an autonomous voice in this country. Today, I see a handful of dancers who are beginning to speak with an independent voice. They are beginning to tell their own story, their own point of view; and that is very encouraging.
Do you still hold the dismal view that Punjabi culture is not going anywhere?
I love Punjab, its ethos and the language. It offers incredible sensitivity, spaciousness, abandon and deep spirituality. However, I feel Punjab has been culturally undermined and intimidated. Punjabis seem to have forgotten that our cultural richness lies in the poetic resonance-filled word. Our literature, poetry, music are unparalleled and deeply insightful. Our cultural richness is of the intangible variety, which makes it richer because it hovers closely to the ‘essence’. The project of Indian image-making has so far privileged tangible culture, which can be showcased and flaunted. India has used culture to flirt with the western world, to seduce it, to impress it with its uniqueness. Punjab does not have too many tangible images to offer. We don’t have an Ajanta or a Konark. But what we can create is an incredible, transformative inner landscape through the power and beauty of our poetry and music. Punjab needs to wake up to its poetic magnitude. But we are bent upon entrenching ourselves in our ostensible cultural bankruptcy by abandoning our language. It is tragic and very disturbing. At this point in history, we are culturally and, therefore, spiritually derailed.
You have collaborated with composers Stephen Rush, Shubha Mudgal and installation artist Sheeba Chachi. How important is this interdisciplinary partnership?
I feel that today, more than ever before, answers lie in interdependence. Classical Indian arts are no longer about externalising the truth of the human condition. They are about conforming to the idea of India and about showcasing India in a flattering light. So, something very vital has become fixed and fossilised between the highly self-conscious display of the ‘self’ and the viewing ‘other’. This equation has to be challenged. There are things about ourselves that we might not be able to break free from as the conditioning may run deep. A creative partner can serve as a sympathetic other to help break the patterns of ‘censored showing’ and ‘passive viewing’.
Where does tradition fit in your attempt to break free and not conform?
Tradition is not fixed, it is fluid. It flows through me, informs me, equips me to handle or negotiate my reality over which I have no control. Tradition does not dictate, it involuntarily runs in my veins, but it does not lay conditions. My resistance is against the idea of tradition obsessed with prescriptions desperately trying to confine its free fluidity within a recognisable definition.
What is the place of yoga in your art?
It plays a central role in my life. It is my guiding spirit. My enquiry into yoga, its history, philosophy plus the practice and teaching of yoga influences my work.