A Karnataka Dance Moves With Modern Times BANGALORE - In a quiet Bangalore home, a group of middle-aged women are learning to walk, talk and dance like men. Only a decade ago, they might have been scoffed at; today the mixed audience of men, women and children cheers them on. They are learning Yakshagana, a 700-year old dance-drama that originated in the coastal regions of Karnataka. Traditionally this vigorous dance, with leaps, twirls and kicks, was confined to men, who played both male and female parts. It was sung exclusively in Kannada, and the themes were based on religious epics, but its appeal was to the masses. Classical music, humor and dialogue - the latter often extempore - are key. The bhagavata, or narrator and singer, plays a crucial role in keeping the whole show on the rails. In the past, shows were performed in tents to massive crowds and lasted a whole night. That was then; this is now. Yakshagana has moved with the times, some say too fast. Today, it is performed by women. It is performed in Hindi, English, Tulu and sometimes even in a silent form, without dialogue. It has moved from coastal Karnataka to Bangalore, Delhi, northern India and overseas. It has been adapted to send social messages about AIDS, the rights of girls and financial literacy. Overnight performances have been reduced to a few hours to save time. The old tent melas are dying out; instead the dance has moved to sponsored shows, temples and inaugurations. "Yakshagana is thriving, but in new forms," said M.L. Samaga, until recently the chairman of the Karnataka Yakshagana Bayalata Academy, a state government body set up to encourage the dance. Mr. Samaga is also a Yakshagana performer himself, with over 40 years of experience. Everybody wants recognition now, so every dancer is trying to create their own space. The form is being democratized," he said. But, as with most democracies, this one has brought its own problems. A constant debate rages between tradition and change, and how far to go with both. Gowri K. Srinivas, a dancer based in Bangalore, along with her husband, Srinivas Sansthan, is one of those trying to find a balance. Before practice begins, Mrs. Srinivas is a soft-spoken bank employee. But, as the bhagavata begins to sing, she transforms into a macho, raging, fiery-eyed Kamsa, the enemy of the god Krishna, albeit one swathed in a feminine lavender dupatta. About 14 years ago, she, along with Mr. Sansthan, was one of the first to introduce women to the dance. She now has about 25 to 30 dancers in her all-women troupe, the Karnataka Mahila Yakshagana. Amazingly, most of her original troupe began learning when they were in their 30s or 40s. I never thought I would be able to learn a dance form when I was 31. I thought I had missed the boat," said Latha K., who is now 47, but could pass for a decade younger, like many of the other dancers. She and her fellow dancers said they have had nothing but encouragement. "When we first performed 14 years ago, old women - but also men - rushed to welcome us," she said. Everyone was so glad to see women come forward. Mrs. Srinivas has faced difficulties with her troupe: women dropping out to study, get married or simply felled by the usual health niggles of middle age. And yet, the troupe has endured. When the women dance, their passion is evident; they switch from mild mannered mothers to terrifying rakshasas, demons that twirl imaginary mustaches and strut like peacocks. The young, too, are flocking to Yakshagana. Pavithra Krishnamoorthy, 19, and Chaitra Bhat, 14, have both been learning Yakshagana since they were young children, encouraged by their families. Both have been awarded government scholarships to learn the dance. "What I like about Yakshagana is that it is so different from any other dance form," said Ms. Krishnamoorthy, who also credited the dance with introducing her to the beauty of Indian mythology. I spent so many years learning how to walk like a man that I don't remember how to walk like a woman now. But many traditionalists are uneasy at the manner in which the dance has become a "fashion" of sorts, perhaps one that is too easy to try on and discard. "Yakshagana needs major surgery," said M. Prabhakar Joshy, a critic based in Mangalore who holds a doctorate in Yakshagana. It has been hijacked by many troupes, especially those in Bangalore. Dr. Joshy minces no words in deriding the "gimmickry" of many troupes. Young teens who learn for a few hours a week are put up on stage, perform a few prasangas [scenes], then everyone applauds and calls it a wonderful performance. There is a culture of low expectations," he said. Ms. Krishnamoorthy acknowledged that standards have fallen. "Everyone wants to be Krishna on stage, even if they have only been learning for a few classes," she said. Otherwise, they just leave the class. That's why quality is always a concern. But Prahlad Acharya, a Bangalore magician who is also a Yakshagana fan, said what was important was the participation of the youth. "At least the young are being educated to appreciate the form," he said. Hobby classes have a role to play in developing an audience, even if they don't produce full-time artists. Dr. Joshy is also scathing about sponsored shows, where the government commissions troupes to perform on a social theme in rural areas, or to dance for 10 minutes at an inauguration."Instead of having Ravana as a villain, they now have AIDS as a villain," he said. Experimentation is all very well, but this is a dangerous word when taken too far. But Mrs. Srinivas sees nothing wrong with changing traditional themes, as long as the conventions of Yakshagana are followed. Why not? Dance is meant to convey a social message, and we are doing just that," she said. It is far more effective to teach villagers through dances than through lectures. Then there's the issue of Yakshagana in other languages. With Bangalore becoming an increasingly multicultural city and Kannada speakers dwindling rapidly, even traditionalists now support English and Hindi Yakshagana. Yakshagana is now performed all over north India in Hindi. Meanwhile, English and Hindi versions tour the United States. Of course, many of these shows retain the original Kannada music and songs, and the Hindi is delivered with a strong, unapologetic Kannadiga accent. "Yakshagana is a dance form that communicates through language," said Mr. Samaga, the former Karnataka academy chairman. Now it has to adapt the language of the audience. The audience no longer speaks Kannada. But adaptations aren't always easy. Much of the charm of Yakshagana is in the way artists often ad lib their dialogue. Bringing in other languages often means that they have to follow a set script. Thus extempore dialogue - the very essence of the form - goes out the window. "There is a charm to hale [old] Kannada that cannot be duplicated," said Mr. Acharya. Invariably, the translations often sound fake, like Hollywood movies translated into Kannada. With most dancers barely making 400 or 500 rupees ($6 to $8) per performance, the frantic experimentation in recent years often boils down to the need to make money. "Why would anyone want to be a full-time Yakshagana performer?" said Dr. Joshy bluntly. He may be called an artist, but actually he is just a part-time coolie employed for a few months a year, having to stay up all night, traveling. Now even artists want their children to get computer jobs in Bangalore or go to the U.S.A. The need to generate ticket revenue means dance troupes will do anything to appeal to audiences, he contended. "They borrow senseless passages from popular films, or from other dances," he said. To maintain its integrity, Yakshagana needs support for the traditional form and a vision for the future, said Dr. Joshy. "The Yakshagana academy has a budget of only 40 lakh [4 million] rupees for the entire year," he said. That won't even cover the cost of proper lighting and brochures. However, Mr. Samaga said artists are better off financially today than they used to be 50 years ago, with more - though still minimal - government support. But he acknowledged the constant search for novelty, which often comes at the cost of aesthetics and tradition. He is trying to put together a textbook for Yakshagana training, which will help preserve its essence, but he also contended that the dance should adapt to modern times. "Yakshagana can digest all this experimentation and survive," he said. It's flexible, and adjustable. It's a classical art and a folk art at the same time, so it can and should change to reflect society. Even the purist, Dr. Joshy, praised Yakshagana's resilience. This is the biggest living theater. It has endured," he said. For all its faults, we can be very proud. Kavitha Rao is a freelance journalist based in Bangalore.