The Odissi dancer, Shashwati Garai Ghosh, presented one of her solo choreographic works, Poorna, recently at Gyan Manch as part of Sampriti 2025 (picture, left), the annual programme of her institution, Angashhuddhi. Conceived as an introspection on the idea of completeness, the work probes the many shades of love through Radha’s adoration and the sakhi’s quiet, self-effacing devotion to Krishna. Ghosh’s choreography draws these dual impulses into a single continuum, where longing and surrender meld into spiritual intensity. The result is a passage to a state of weightlessness that Ghosh conveys with urgency.
As a performer, she commands the stage. Her movement language, precise and unrestrained, anchors Poorna’s inherent dichotomy. She invites the audience not just to watch an act, but to inhabit the experience she evokes. The songs rendered by Dipannita Acharya and Sucheta Ganguly add an impassioned resonance, allowing the performance to expand inwards into a realm where love attains the equilibrium of trance and transforms into a quest for the unknown.
Earlier in the evening, the dancers of Angashhuddhi presented Prakriti, a series of compositions designed to foreground the idioms, technique, and pedagogical rigour of Odissi. Conceived to showcase the institution’s training ethos, the production sought to convey both discipline and rootedness in tradition. The opening piece, Ramashtakam, a dynamic choreographic work, celebrated Ram in his epic glory. Dondo attempted to capture the rustic spontaneity of a community joyfully dancing together. The children’s Natati had charm, with its playful evocation of gopis and Krishnas. Sakhi, choreographed by Ghosh, stood out for its emotional depth. It was a delightful and sensitive portrayal of companionship between two friends who are confidantes of each other, one completing the world for the other.
As in every other edition of Angashhuddhi’s annual performances, Sampriti once again bore the unmistakable marks of care and precision that have become Ghosh’s signature. Whether in costume, comportment, sequence or presentation, the evening reflected her disciplined attention to every aspect of a recital.
The subversive satire of Sukumar Ray’s Abol Tabol in the garb of nonsense formed the conceptual spine of Oshombhober Chhondo, the opening piece in Brindar’s annual show, Darshana (picture, right), staged at the Satyajit Ray Auditorium recently. Widely read as a text in which acute political consciousness is veiled in whimsy, the choreography envisaged a tilt towards a contemporary allegory of resistance and hope. It was fun with an unmistakably serious core.
One of the most introspective pieces of the evening that showcased a bunch of Debashree Bhattacharya’s choreographies was the work titled Sthira. In this, the dancers confronted the paradox at the heart of movement that the essence of dance lay not in motion but in stillness. Set to vilambit teentaal, it unfolded as meditation examining the body’s negotiation between surrender and control. The piece interrogated the notion of thehrav or poise, which is at the core of North Indian classical music and dance.
In its 25th year of existence, Brindar’s offering featured the fundamentals of the Kathak repertoire explored through virtuosic footwork, a bandishi thumri and a delightful parmelu. But Bhattacharya ventured beyond the classical tenets in The Other
Little Rhythm, which was inspired by Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s poem, “Hum Dekhenge”. Here, the choreography functioned as a protest against tyranny and erasure, violence, inequality and the complicity of silence. It attempted to reclaim the body as a site of strength and resistance.