A Classical Dancer Who’s Challenging Her Traditions

Two years ago, when Ramaa Bharadvaj turned 40, she had an epiphany.

No longer would she conform to traditional notions of how an Indian wife and mother should behave. Nor would she confine herself to age-old ritual and mythological themes when choreographing the classical Indian dance she had performed since the age of 3.

“My 40th year was a tornado,” recalls Bharadvaj, sporting a cranberry-and-gold chiffon sari and a stick-on bindi, representing the “third eye of wisdom,” on her forehead. “I realized that I was unfulfilled--belonging to everyone but myself and just passing along the dance vocabulary. Since then I’ve developed a fearlessness that’s made me a better artist and left my husband in shock.”

Angelenos can sample the results of this sea change on July 22, when Bharadvaj makes her first appearance in the “Grand Performances” series, performing two original river-themed pieces at the California Plaza Watercourt. And this Saturday, she’s directing her 19-year-old daughter, Swetha, in a 15-minute solo performance of kuchipudi--a traditionally male genre relatively unfamiliar to American audiences--in the annual Dance Kaleidoscope festival at Cal State L.A.’s Luckman Theater.

In a small way, Bharadvaj suggests, she’s a “cultural ambassador,” introducing people to--and “polishing up”--bharata natyam, one of the seven forms of Indian classical dance. Under British rule, bharata natyam was considered disreputable, the province of prostitutes. But the dance form bounced back in the 1920s and ‘30s, thanks to some upper-class Brahman families who gave it respectability by learning the art form and performing it on stage. Though it has flourished for the last 40 years, it still faces challenges.

“In India, they’re more interested in the ‘foreign,’ fascinated by the West,” says Bharadvaj, a vivacious spirit with a dry wit and a warm laugh. “You go back to discover your roots and find them listening to Michael Jackson and Madonna.”

In Southern California, however, interest in classical Indian dance has accelerated as the number of Asians and Asian Americans has soared. Though the form has yet to acquire a berth in the national mainstream, Ramaa and Swetha graced the cover of Dance magazine last month--edging out the prestigious Bolshoi Ballet that was also profiled inside.

“In the past 15 years, Indian dance has become a force, with more producing and exciting programming going on,” says Judy Mitoma, a UCLA dance professor who directs the school’s Center for Intercultural Performance. “Along with African, it’s the most popular dance class we offer. The Indian dancers have hung in against great odds, mounting a struggle for recognition from presenters and becoming more savvy about the business side.”

For her part, Bharadvaj has emerged as an important voice in the mix--an unorthodox blend of the old and the new. “Panchatantra,” her 1994 adaptation of ancient Indian animal fables (created to increase her then-5-year-old son’s appreciation of the medium), takes aim at macho stereotypes. “The Future,” based on Vedic scriptures, makes a strong case against environmental pollution. Even when tackling traditional material, the choreographer opts for “spiritual” rather than “religious.” And she rarely performs the subservient female dances typical of the genre.

“Just as Twyla Tharp shocked people by combining ballet and pop culture, Ramaa is courageous in not restricting herself to predetermined categories,” Mitoma says. “She’s dedicated to tradition and respectful of what it represents. Still, she’s also a contemporary soul engaged creatively and politically with what’s happening in the world.”

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Bharadvaj was born into a lower-middle-class Brahman family in Madras, India, the daughter of an accountant and a homemaker. Her uncle, a renowned Sanskrit scholar, introduced Ramaa and twin sister Uma to a leading bharata natyam teacher when they were 3. They started to train a year later.

At 6, they made a three-hour dance debut and two years later were given a state scholarship to tour South India--the youngest recipients of the award to date. From age 10 to 19, the pair studied with Kamala, a legendary dancer and teacher, becoming principal dancers in her company.

During her teens, Ramaa also worked in television, interviewing personalities and doing documentary voice-overs. Dance was still her first love, but the possibility of a solo career was slim.

“There were too many dancers and too little opportunity,” she says. “Unless you’re a big name, you had to pay to perform. Besides, by the time you were 20, marriage was supposed to be your focus.”

Everything changed in 1978 when her parents spotted a matrimonial ad in a local newspaper. An Indian man, studying in the U.S., was coming home to seek a wife. (Singing and dancing were a plus.) She and Bala Bharadvaj exchanged photos and horoscopes and, after a two-hour meeting, the arranged marriage took place. In short order, they moved to Atlanta, where Bala was working on a doctorate in engineering. Though he could never have anticipated how things would play out, he has remained her staunchest supporter.

In 1982, the couple returned to India, praying at a temple dedicated to Siva, the Indian god of dance. Ramaa, who had contracted a spinal infection that left her paralyzed from the waist down, was hoping for a miracle. Thirteen-month-old Swetha suddenly started duplicating the three most common hand gestures in Indian dance--a sign that God intended her to perform, her mother was convinced. Three months later, Ramaa was off medication and giving another concert.

It’s sometimes rough to have a “calling”--to be the messenger for the next generation, acknowledges Swetha, a UC San Diego management science and biochemistry double major who started dancing professionally at age 4. It wasn’t until she went away to college and danced by choice that she began to appreciate the opportunity.

“We went through a pretty weird stage,” she says. “If I didn’t do my chores at home, it carried over into the studio. Besides, my mother has enormous energy and is something of a perfectionist. She creates an image in her mind and won’t stop until she gets it right.”

The Bharadvajs moved from Atlanta to Boston in 1980 and headed West seven years later, settling in Yorba Linda. Her sister Uma Suresh also came to Southern California, where she performed with her twin until 1991. The situation was “highly competitive to the point of ego clashes,” Ramaa says--and for seven years, they didn’t talk.

“I was the more extroverted and she needed to find out who she was,” Bharadvaj says. “She called me up on Mother’s Day last year, and now we’re inseparable--just like in our teens.”

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Living in Los Angeles has provided valuable lessons that have added a marketing expertise and technical sophistication much needed in Indian dance, Bharadvaj says. Though lighting designers have been used infrequently in that arena, they are now integral to her productions. Today she networks extensively through workshops, conferences and outreach programs to help raise the profile of her work.

“This town is all about entertainment,” she says. “If you’re not serious, you get swallowed up.”

In 1982, Bharadvaj founded her Angahara Academy of Performing Arts, which today has 48 students. In 1990, she formed her six-member Angahara Ensemble from dancers trained at her academy. The troupe has performed primarily in India, Canada and Southern California, generating mostly positive reviews.

Ramaa and Swetha Bharadvaj’s “Ardhanariswara” duet “took dance metaphor into the realm of the spiritual,” wrote The Times’ Lewis Segal of a 1995 performance.

Bharadvaj’s big breakthrough came in 1993 when the troupe first performed at Dance Kaleidoscope. The visibility led to the highly regarded Lester Horton Dance Award for outstanding achievement in staging traditional dance--a prize that carries great significance because it was voted on by the dance community rather than a “bunch of snobby panelists,” the outspoken choreographer says.

That year, she also started an Indian dance curriculum at Costa Mesa’s Orange Coast College, where she still teaches. Since then, she’s received three California Arts Council grants--two for her multicultural work and one for traditional/folk art. And the prime-time “Grand Performances” appearance in which she dances with her daughter should further bolster credibility.

With success comes responsibility, she says. There’s an obligation to give back. One of her dreams is the creation of an AIDS-related production, an idea that gained impetus when a beloved writer-friend recently told her that he was diagnosed HIV-positive.

“The work of the Old Masters is fabulous, but, like the world, an art form must keep changing,” she says. “I may draw inspiration from 400 years ago, but I’ll be damned if they call any of my pieces a ‘400-year-old dance.’ ”

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Swetha Bharadvaj will perform “Tarangam” in the Dance Kaleidoscope festival at Cal State L.A.’s Luckman Theater, 5151 State University Drive, L.A., on Saturday at 8 p.m. Tickets: $18; students, seniors, $12. (323) 343-6683. Ramaa and Swetha Bharadvaj will perform “Invocation to the God of Rain” and “The Descent of Ganga” in the “Grand Performances” series as part of an evening of Indian music and dance at the California Plaza Watercourt on July 22 at 7 p.m. Admission is free.