The Many Paths, Part 3 of 4: The Spectacle of Dandiya Raas

In Gujarat, the celebration of Navratri is famous for two unique forms of folk dance—-nightly garbas and dandiya raas in Amdavad, Gujarat's largest city, may include hundreds, if not thousands of participants and spectators. The dances are circular and repetitive and try endurance—-they wheel on for hours, often into the early morning hours. Garbas feature only women, are devotional in nature, and are performed before Aarti, a nightly worshipping ritual. Dandiyas follow Aarti, are celebratory, and feature both men and women and sticks (dandiyas)--the essence of the dance is an endlessly repeated reenactment of the battle between the goddess Durga and the demon Mahishasura, with the sticks standing in for swords. Udaipur, less than 100 kilometers north of Gujarat, has also adopted these folk forms in celebration of Navratri, and on each of the last two nights of the festival, I return to the base of Nirach Mata to watch dandiya performed in its modern, Udaipurian incarnation. It isn’t difficult to find: the music blares at such a volume that it can be heard plainly from my guest house a quarter-mile away. I only have to follow my ears.

In a schoolyard, an iron-framed canopy has been strung with tinseled silver and gold garlands and fringed with translucent pink bunting. Youth (broadly speaking—-I would say that participants range in age from 4 to 35 years, although most seem to fall between the ages of 12 and 17) form two circles around its perimeter—-girls inner, boys outer—-and while (in the case of this dandiya) dated Indian pop music thunders, the circles slowly grind in opposing directions, like the gears of a clock. Each of the youth clutch two dandiyas; they’re about the length of drumsticks, although perhaps twice as thick. Face to face, male and female counterparts strike their dandiyas together in unison, keeping the beat in a uniform pattern which, once traced, is repeated endlessly as partnerships shift with the turning of the circle. The tempo of the song drives that of the dance, which itself is simple and obeys an unwavering structure—-hit, hit, off-beat, hit, off-beat, and a final off-beat in which all dancers step to their right and the next partner. However, within its rigid structure, the dance admits individuality and improvisation: during off-beats, dancers move as they like, and each develops his or her own style, partially contingent, as well, on the character of the song being played. Within this circumscribed freedom lies much of the charm of the dandiya raas.

Variation in skill among dancers is pronounced, though this is hardly of consequence. Some are stiff and unsure in their movements, but many dance well, fluidly and joyfully; the girls are masters of a controlled suggestiveness and the boys are loose-limbed and confident. Although some do little more than step in place during off-beats, the most accomplished twirl their dandiyas in an elaborate, almost figurative style (my roommate Arun was particularly captivated by a girl who twirled herself, along with the dandiyas, between hits). Faces are also telling in their differences: many of the youngest dancers bear timid, nervous expressions, seemingly mortified by their inexperience, while other faces plainly reveal the delight, concentration, or boredom of their bearers.

The striking of the dandiyas, too, allows for variation. Within some pairings, the hits are integrated nearly seamlessly into the off-beat movement of the dancers; they become, if not incidental to the dance, a mere complement. For most, however, the striking is the dandiya's distinguishing feature, and part of the intrigue to the observer is the inevitable pairing of dancers of different styles, ages, and abilities. It is through this multiplicity of pairings that diversity is revealed to be at the heart of dandiya raas, despite the dance's formal limitations. Because the two circles move in contradiction, every boy must dance with every girl, and each partnership gives different expression to the dance. This is likely what allows dandiyas to press on for hour after hour, to midnight and beyond, for nine consecutive nights. For the dancers, the anticipation and satisfaction of pairing with a favored partner (or partners) is motivation and sustenance enough to continue spinning; for spectators, enjoyment derives from appreciation of the myriad varieties of expression born from the intersection of the dancers’ individual styles and the dance’s egalitarian structure, all realized within the constraints of a simple folk tradition. It’s just a bunch of kids dancing, and yet so much more: religious observance, cultural celebration, social adhesive, romantic catalyst (according to Arun, condom manufacturers do big business in Gujarat during Navratri), and entrancing spectacle.