A Threshold of Grace and Dedication

The Bharatanatyam Arangetram of Diya Sriram & Rhea Avari’s
Written by Manasa Jayanthi, Artistic Director of Nrityanjali School of Dance

An Arangetram is not merely a debut performance; it is an arrival a stepping across the threshold into the lineage of a centuries-old artistic tradition. It is an invocation of memory, discipline, devotion, and the many unseen hours of practice that shape a dancer long before she ever steps onto the stage. In their Arangetram, presented under the guidance of Nrithyapooja Dance Academy founded and directed by Smt. Pooja Kumar Shyam, Diya Sriram and Rhea Avari entered this tradition with poise, composure, and heartfelt sincerity. The evening’s program was thoughtfully curated, interweaving foundational repertoire with lyrical storytelling and devotional depth. What unfolded was not only a demonstration of technique and tradition, but the blossoming of two young artists beginning to speak in their own voices through the language of dance.

The performance commenced with Pushpanjali (Ragam: Jog | Thalam: Adi), a gesture of offering and invocation. Diya and Rhea, radiant in their yellow costumes, appeared grounded, centered, and unhurried as they stepped onto the stage. There was a sense of enchantment in seeing two twelve-year-olds carry themselves with the poise and composure of far more seasoned dancers, like exquisitely crafted dolls came to life. Their lines were clean, their footing assured, and their sensitivity to rhythm evident. This was followed by Chakra Alarippu (Ragam: Madhyamavati | Thalam: Mishram), a crystalline unfolding of form and breath, where the dancers’ control of adavus, alignment, and spatial clarity was particularly striking. Both pieces were beautifully rendered, supported by the musical ensemble, with special note to the cautious, precise, and thoughtfully attuned nattuvangam of Guru Pooja Kumar Shyam, whose guidance subtly shaped the dancers’ rhythmic confidence and in the interspersed vocal verses by Arthi Kumar the choice vocalist of the evening.

The devotional tone deepened with Sri Vighna Rajam Bhaje (Ragam: Gambhira Nattai | Thalam: Khanda Chapu), offered as a tribute to Lord Ganesha. Diya approached this piece with a bright and uplifting presence that immediately engaged the audience. The rhythmic texture, enhanced by the rhythm pad, introduced tonal layers evocative of Kerala temple percussion, subtly recalling the pulse of chenda and edakka traditions. This created an atmosphere akin to a temple procession, celebratory, welcoming, auspicious. Diya responded to this musical landscape with buoyant footwork, confident rhythmic phrasing, and an open-chested stage presence that beautifully captured Ganesha’s qualities of joy, wisdom, and benevolent protection. Her facial expressions glowed with an approachable warmth, a kind of gentle joy that felt like, Ganesha was entering the room; her portrayal suggested a young artist already beginning to understand how to illuminate divine character through movement.

Rhea followed with Saraswati Kauthvam (Ragam: Gowla | Thalam: Rupaka), a graceful ode to Saraswati, the Goddess of knowledge, learning, and the arts. Where Diya’s energy moved outward like sunlight, Rhea’s presence drew inward, serene and reflective. Her interpretation did not rely on overt theatricality; rather, it unfolded through quiet clarity, the softness of her gaze, the measured elongation of her arm lines, and the poised suspension she allowed between gestures. These choices beautifully embodied Saraswati’s qualities of stillness, purity, and contemplative wisdom. There was a sense of reverence in the way she held space not as an imitation of divinity, but as a listening, a tuning of herself to the music, the moment, and the sacred. The result was a portrayal that felt intimate and genuine, suggesting a dancer who feels the emotional undercurrent of the piece before offering it outward.

The Jathiswaram (Ragam: Kalyani | Thalam: Rupaka) provided a refreshing shift into pure nritta movement as geometry, rhythm, and kinetic architecture. Diya demonstrated a naturally buoyant quality in her jumps and directional transitions, allowing the movement to feel lifted and expansive, while Rhea’s strength lay in the steadiness and elongation of her lines, her torso composed and her footwork deliberate. Together, their contrasting movement sensibilities created a visual harmony, lightness, and grounded-ness in conversation. The musicality of the piece was handled with sensitivity as each dancer responded not only to the counts, but to the phrasing and internal pulse that gives Jathiswaram its characteristic elegance. This performance revealed a budding maturity: a willingness to dance with the music rather than merely alongside it, a hallmark of dancers beginning to truly understand the internal architecture of Bharatanatyam.

The Varnam (Ragam: Atana | Thalam: Adi), centered on episodes from the life of Lord Krishna, formed the emotional and technical heart of the recital. As the most demanding item of the Bharatanatyam repertoire, the Varnam calls for seamless movement between intricate rhythmic passages and deeply expressive storytelling, and both dancers rose to this challenge with admirable stamina and focus. The choreography invited them to inhabit varied facets of Krishna, the playful cowherd, the protector of Dwaraka, the beloved divine companion, and each dancer revealed her own interpretive leaning. Diya approached Krishna with a bright, outward radiance, her expressions vivid and her gestures expansive, suggesting a deity whose joy is both infectious and generous. Rhea, in contrast, offered a more introspective lens, allowing stillness and gaze to speak; her Krishna felt gentle, contemplative, and deeply felt.

Their adavus remained clean and grounded through the rhythmic sequences, and their transitions into narrative passages showed attentiveness to musical phrasing and an evolving sensitivity to emotional shading. The jathis, rendered with care, demonstrated their growing command of timing and breath, and neither dancer showed strain, a testament to training, presence, and internal pacing. As young artists, their expressive voices are still unfolding, but what emerged here was unmistakably sincere: an early articulation of devotion and identity through movement. The Varnam revealed not only what they have studied, but what they are beginning to understand, that Bharatanatyam is not merely danced, but lived from the inside out.

The program continued with Nee Adum Naa Adum (Ragam: Khamas | Thalam: Adi), a duet invoking the cosmic dance of Shiva and Parvati, where the masculine and feminine energies of the universe move in eternal dialogue. Rather than treating the piece as a literal portrayal of two deities, the dancers approached it as an exploration of balance, complementarity, and shared presence. Rhea embodied Shiva with a quiet regal stillness and grounded strength, her stances firm and her gaze steady, evoking the calm, unshakeable axis of the cosmos. Diya, in contrast, brought forth Parvati with graceful fluidity and gentle expansiveness, her movements softening and rounding the space, suggesting compassion, creativity, and the inward turning of devotion. The choreography allowed these energies to meet, separate, circle, and return, like the inhale and exhale of divine breath. The effect was not theatrical display, but a kind of quiet revelation: the understanding that Shiva and Parvati are not opposites, but two halves of the same sacred wholeness. It was a moment in the recital where technique and meaning aligned, leaving the audience in thoughtful stillness.

Rhea then presented Chinnanjiru Kiliye (Ragam: Ragamalika | Thalam: Rupaka), the much–beloved lullaby attributed to Subramania Bharati. This piece calls for an inner softness, a tender emotional transparency that is felt rather than declared and Rhea met this challenge with remarkable sensitivity. Her movements were unhurried and delicately shaped, allowing the music’s phrasing to breathe. What made the performance especially striking was the emotional maturity she brought to the portrayal; for a dancer of her age, embodying the layered tenderness of a caregiver soothing a beloved child requires not only technique, but imaginative depth and emotional cognition and Rhea demonstrated both with quiet assurance. Rather than relying on overt expression, she listened inward, letting meaning surface through subtle shifts in gaze, the gentle tilt of her head, and the warm, protective framing of her arms. In her interpretation, the “little bird” of the lyric became not merely a child to be soothed, but a symbol of love held with care, love that is patient, attentive, and unconditional. This was a moment in the recital where stillness spoke more powerfully than flourish, revealing in Rhea a dancer with an already emerging capacity to understand and convey emotional nuance beyond her years.

Ayyappa Padam (Ragam: Anandabhairavi | Thalam: Misra Chapu) called the performance into a space of deep devotional stillness. In contrast to the gentle intimacy of the earlier lullaby, this piece asked for a pilgrim’s heart, steadfast, reverent, and inwardly turned. Diya entered this emotional landscape with a quiet strength. Her eyes held the soft gravity of longing, and her movements unfolded with measured deliberateness, as though each gesture were a step taken on sacred ground. There was no haste; instead, she allowed the music to bloom and settle around her, responding with pauses full of breath and prayer.

What was most striking was the authenticity of her bhava. Diya did not perform devotion, she inhabited it. The subtle lowering of her gaze, the shaping of her hands in offering, and the grounded stillness of her stance conveyed a young dancer who understands that devotion in Bharatanatyam lives as much in silence as in movement. The choreography’s imagery of journey, surrender, and the intimate nearness of the divine emerged with clarity and emotional resonance. In this piece, Diya revealed an artist capable not only of rhythmic strength, but of stillness that speaks, a quiet, luminous offering that lingered long after the final gesture.

The recital culminated in the Thillana (Ragam: Revathi | Thalam: Adi), a vibrant celebration of rhythm, pattern, and joyful movement. After the emotional depth and introspection of the preceding pieces, the Thillana opened into a space of lightness and delight, allowing the dancers to move with freedom and exuberance. Both Diya and Rhea demonstrated crisp adavus, clear lines, and a lively command of tempo, their feet striking the stage with confidence while their upper bodies remained poised and expressive. The choreography highlighted their emerging ability to sustain energy with precision, offering bursts of rhythmic agility balanced by small moments of breath and release. What made this finale especially memorable was the joy that radiated from both dancers not the polite smile of performance, but the unmistakable brightness of young artists moving from a place of genuine happiness. The stage felt full, warm, and alive. As the final poses softened into stillness, there was a shared sense in the auditorium of witnessing not merely the close of a recital, but the opening of a journey, one stepped into with grace, sincerity, and wholehearted presence.

The Tarana (Ragam: Sindhu Bhairavi | Thalam: Adi) followed as a special duet, offering a lively and interwoven rhythmic dialogue between the dancers. In contrast to the structured clarity of the Thillana, the Tarana allowed Diya and Rhea to explore musicality with a sense of play and freedom responding to one another through glances, rhythmic cues, and shared momentum. The choreography featured sequences that echoed Kathak-inspired rhythmic patterns and circular formations, introducing a fresh textural layer to the Bharatanatyam vocabulary while remaining rooted in classical precision. What made this duet compelling was the relationship between the dancers not simply two performers sharing a stage, but two young artists co-creating a rhythmic world together. Their movements were in conversation: Diya’s buoyant clarity in jumps and directional shifts meeting Rhea’s graceful fluidity and measured extension, each offering balance and complement to the other. There was delight here, a sense of dancing for the joy of dancing, a quality that cannot be manufactured, but arises naturally when confidence, presence, and trust converge. The Tarana felt like a celebration not only of training accomplished, but of friendship, artistic partnership, and the shared becoming of two dancers growing in harmony.

The recital concluded with Mangalam, a closing benediction offered in humility and gratitude. After the expansiveness of the Thillana and the playful harmony of the Tarana, this final piece invited both dancers and audience into a moment of quiet reflection. The stage, which moments earlier had pulsed with rhythmic vibrancy, now softened into stillness. Diya and Rhea stood not as performers, but as young disciples honoring their lineage acknowledging the blessings of those who have danced before them, those who guide them now, and those whose support allows their journey to continue. It was a gentle reminder that in Bharatanatyam, every ending is also a return, to devotion, to discipline, to the heart of the art itself.

This Arangetram was not only a testament to the dancers, but to the careful, patient, and loving guidance of Guru Pooja Kumar Shyam, whose teaching philosophy emphasizes both technical rigor and the inner cultivation of bhava. Her precise and steady nattuvangam shaped the rhythmic integrity of the evening, providing Diya and Rhea with a strong and assured foundation. The musical ensemble offered depth and luminosity throughout the performance: Aarthi Kumar’s vocal warmth carried the emotional contour of each piece; Venkatasubramaniam on mridangam brought nuanced rhythmic architecture; Virroshi Sriganesh on violin offered melodic clarity and tonal sensitivity; and Raman Kalyan on flute infused the evening with lyrical grace and atmospheric color.

The event was further enriched by the thoughtful contributions of many:

Master of Ceremony: Mahathi Athreya

Light and Sound: Christopher Greco

Photography: Anil Nayar

Event Videography: Pradeep Nair

Make-up: Manasa Jayanthi and Ramya Raghupathy

Decorations: Sharmitra Ramanan

Brochure: Varnila Design & Print

The success of this performance also reflects the dedication of the dancers’ families and the supportive community that surrounds Nrithyapooja Dance Academy. In witnessing Diya and Rhea cross this threshold, we do not simply celebrate a debut; we honor the unfolding of two young artists stepping into their own voices. Their journey is only beginning, yet already they dance with intention, openness, and heart.

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