Kathak Ta Thei Thei Ta

Completely amazed by Kathak. Need to learn. WOW! An ancient Indian art form. A physical and verbal fusion between spoken word and musical rhythm, Ta Thei Thei Ta, which to my novice ears sounds like Ra-da da-d a d ara-da-da da DA! Da dad da drarara da da. Da Da da-da-da- DA! The movement of the feet, the hands, the beats of the ghugharu bells. Tap dancing – but with naked feed – a soft tap a wave of jingles. And so quick a 'jingle' doesn't even come close to the sound which is produced. More like a soft series of crashes, as ankles lined with small bells rise and fall as rapidly as the feet pounding the floor. The vibrations being sent up the dancers body to her posed face, moving her shoulders and rippling up to her cheeks. Hands holding up the lengths of silk cloth, to show the listening audience the skill of her steps. Feet jumping at us, outlined with red paint, below the rrrrring rrrrring rrrrring of the tapping bells and the ra-ra da-d a d ara-da-da da DA DA DA DA! Of the tongue. How she can keep the sounds coming during such a rage of mesmorising motion is amazing. Hands let the skirt drop but the feet keep pounding and the rrrring rrrrring rrrrring of the tapping jingling bells shaking around the theatre. The words are picked up by another female voice. As precisely as the passing of a relay baton: Da dad da dra-ra-ra da da. Da Da da-da-d-d DA! High but smooth. As rhythmic and addictive as the beat of the tabla. Thud dud dud dud. Thud dud dud dud. Da dad da drarara da da. Da Da da-da-da-d DA! Behind this plays the harmonium the lollllls of this are picked out by a sitar. The sounds of the dance penetrate the ears and move the hands. The eyes follow the movements of the body – which seems to be following a different beat to the feet. The dancer's hands move and take the audiences attention with it. Like a conductor she identifies the rhythm of her own feet– a hand is pointed DA DA DA DA! Is what it says. The hands return to collect the skirt. Feet pound. Heels Turning turning turning turning turning. Silk flying upwards. Like a whirling dervish. Feet solid – tapd tapd tapd tapd. Faster and faster taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappppppppppppppppppppppppppppd. Skirt flying, sounds flying, eyes returning to connect with our watching eyes after every full rotation and then spinning away – connect – spin – connect – spin – connect - spinning the audience into a dizzy sway. Da da-d da dra-ra-ra da da. Da Da da-da-da-d. Da da-d-da dr-ra-ra da da. Da Da da-da-da-d- DA! And on and on the voice trills over and over. Guiding the beats and revealing the rhythm. Dark round eyes finally stay connected. Hands release and point. Mouth opened. Voices, drums, thud dud dud, lollllls and tri tri tras joined, slowing.
Ending.
Vibrating outwards from the source, across the stage, into our chairs, up my body and finally, through these fingers.

For more info on Kathak see:

Kathak

Tarang

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