Kumudini Lakhia: The woman who gave Kathak new feet

Ahmedabad, April 13 (IANS) When news broke about Kumudini Lakhia’s passing on April 11 at the age of 95, a silence fell over the world of Indian classical dance. The silence was not of emptiness, but of reverence — the kind that settles when a great light fades, leaving behind a trail so radiant, it can never be forgotten.

For those who watched her perform, Kumudini Lakhia was not merely a dancer — she was a force of reinvention, a trailblazer who lifted Kathak from its rigid classical roots and set it free on new rhythms. Her legacy was etched not just in her own performances but in the movements of the many dancers she mentored, nurtured, and inspired.

On Saturday, Prime Minister Narendra Modi, paying tribute to her in a heartfelt post, wrote on X, “Deeply saddened by the passing of Kumudini Lakhia ji, who made a mark as an outstanding cultural icon. Her passion towards Kathak and Indian classical dances was reflected in her remarkable work over the years. A true pioneer, she also nurtured generations of dancers. Her contributions will continue to be cherished. Condolences to her family, students and admirers. Om Shanti.”

Born in Calcutta in 1930 and raised in a musically rich household in Ahmedabad, Kumudini was introduced to classical arts early. Her mother, Leela, was a classical singer and ensured that Kumudini’s early years were steeped in melody and movement. At age seven, she began Kathak training — first with Sohanlal of the Bikaner gharana, and later with masters from both the Jaipur and Lucknow traditions. But even in her formative years, she questioned structure. “I didn’t want to just copy what I was taught,” she once said in an interview. “I wanted to understand why — and then, how else.”

As a young dancer, Kumudini joined the legendary Ram Gopal’s international troupe in the 1940s and ’50s. The experience took her across continents and planted seeds of artistic rebellion. Seeing Western choreographers treat movement as language rather than just tradition influenced her deeply. “I saw Martha Graham and Pina Bausch. And I thought — why can’t we tell stories differently too?” she recalled during a lecture-demonstration in the early 2000s. That question would go on to define her career.

When Kumudini Lakhia returned to India, she took a radical leap. In 1964, she founded Kadamb Centre for Dance and Music in Ahmedabad — not just a school, but a crucible of experimentation. She began crafting ensemble Kathak performances, breaking away from the solo-centric traditions. She infused abstract themes, contemporary ideas, and ensemble choreography into a form that had long been the domain of individual mastery. Her productions — Dhabkar, Yugal, Duvidha, Atah Kim, and Bhagwati — weren’t just performances; they were conversations between tradition and modernity. “She gave Kathak a new canvas,” Mallika Sarabhai, a fellow dancer, said earlier. “And more than that, she gave it courage.” At Kadamb, her commitment to teaching was unwavering.

Over six decades, she mentored hundreds of students, many of whom have become stalwarts in their own right — Aditi Mangaldas, Sanjukta Sinha, Parul Shah, and Maulik Shah, to name a few. “She never imposed. She challenged,” said Aditi Mangaldas in a tribute. “She would ask, ‘Why are you moving this way? What do you want to say?’ That one question changed my entire relationship with dance.” Her school became a sanctuary for experimentation. She encouraged students to collaborate with musicians, visual artists, and poets. She herself often choreographed to the works of Faiz Ahmed Faiz and contemporary composers, proving that classical dance could respond to the times.

Despite global acclaim — the Padma Shri (1987), Sangeet Natak Akademi Award (1982), and Padma Bhushan (2010) — Kumudini Lakhia was never one to bask in honours. “I have spent most of my life fighting Kathak itself,” she had said once, half in jest. “But I did it because I loved it too much to let it remain boxed.”

Even in her later years, she could be found sitting cross-legged on the floor at Kadamb, watching rehearsals, correcting a mudra, nudging a thought. She remained curious, fierce, and open. Her death marks the end of an era — but also the continuation of a movement she helped create. In every dancer who dares to deviate, to innovate, to ask “what if,” there is a bit of Kumudini. “She didn’t just teach us to dance,” said a young student at Kadamb. “She taught us to think. She taught us to become artists.” As the tributes pour in and the candles are lit in studios across the country, one truth stands tall: Kumudini Lakhia didn’t just live a life of dance — she made dance live anew.

--IANS

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