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Please begin by telling us a little about yourself and your dance journey. When did you begin studying kathak, what were your initial impressions of the dance form, and what most attracted you to the dance?<\/strong><\/span><\/h4>\nI\u2019m a firm believer that nothing happens by chance. It\u2019s as if I was predestined to be a kathaka. My childhood wasn\u2019t the usual one. My parents were entertainers and I was raised on the road, a backstage baby playing in the wings during rehearsals. Theater life was a familiar environment. My mother sang and danced. My father acted, sang, wrote plays and was a female impersonator. My favorite play was <\/span>The King and I<\/span><\/i>, a musical. My dad played the king; a flamboyant, charismatic, dramatic presence. I was enamored by the elaborate Asian costumes, sets, and customs. I was three, but I already knew I was a dancer.<\/span><\/p>\n I studied ballet and classical piano for 4 years. But, when I was 13, I rebelled when my father died suddenly. Dropping classes, I left home at 15 and immersed myself in the sixties counterculture movement. I went barefoot and wore 12 brass bells around each ankle which I never removed. Yes, I was a hippie.<\/span><\/p>\n I first saw\u00a0Pandit Chitresh Das<\/a> (who in my earlier student days we called Dadaji) perform at the San Rafael Improvement Club on November 9th, 1977 with Zakir Hussain and George Ruckert. It was his 33rd birthday.<\/span> I was amazed by his dynamic energy and drawn to the vibrant rhythms. He slapped his feet effortlessly and seemed to be challenging the drummer to go faster. My dentist had invited me to the concert. I was 26. The day after seeing him perform for the second time, I would be leaving for Nepal with my 7 year old son. I had no plans, but fate obviously did. I returned to live with my mom five months later, broke and sick. My first day out, I saw a poster that Kathak classes were being taught by Chitresh Das at the Belrose Studio in San Rafael. I decided to check it out. I already regarded myself as an established dancer in my own right. I copied the free form expressive moves of Isadora Duncan and Martha Graham. I\u2019d danced onstage with the Grateful Dead for over a decade and performed in plays and improv groups. I thought I\u2019d just drop in and take a few lessons so I could incorporate these interesting movements into my own dance form. Yes, I was consumed by my own greatness. My ego more than outweighed my talent. Dadaji had never seen such audacity. He used to say, \u201cNoelle, she has a swollen head.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n My first class was on April 16th, 1978. I showed up early. Gretchendi [<\/span>Gretchen Hayden<\/span><\/a>] was setting up a rug, flowers, incense. Others arrived and greeted her. Dadaji had just returned from a tour of India with his first group of American dancers. I was unaware this was his first class since separating from the\u00a0<\/span>Ali Akbar College<\/span><\/a>. There was only one level back then and new students danced in the back and floundered until an advanced student helped you figure out the footwork or composition. Gretchendi set the finest example of an elder guru-sister. I’d watch her feet. A few months later, classes moved to the Knights of Columbus building in San Anselmo, which would become our main hub for over a decade.<\/span><\/p>\n I loved the dance, the vigorous footwork, the dizzying turns, the recitation. It’s the mathematical element that has always attracted me most about Kathak. I loved the complex rhythms and the dance, but I never intended to stay or become a kathaka. I had a huge ego and a stubborn will. Dadaji knew I would be a challenge to tame. So one day as we were sweating through our hundredth grueling cycle of tatkar, he stood within inches of me and stared into my eyes, unimpressed, and said, \u201cIn the dance many will come, and many will go\u2026 the weak ones always run away!\u201d Well, the challenge was on. How could I leave now?<\/span> Classes were soooo different then. First of all there weren\u2019t as many students, so we got a lot of one-on-one attention. He made us recite loudly every syllable as we danced, building intense stamina and endurance. After three hours of dancing we would sing, recite and write down compositions. He expected us to have bells on and be sweating when he arrived. Often, if you weren\u2019t dancing up to par, you were told to sit down, watch and recite. That seemed like punishment at the time, because all we really wanted to do was dance.<\/span><\/p>\n About a dozen students started class in the summer\/fall of 1978. Michele Zonka,\u00a0<\/span>Joanna Dunbar [de Souza]<\/span><\/a>, and Amrit Mann (my lifelong guru-sisters) started on the same week at the Cultural Integration Fellowship in San Francisco, where he held classes every Saturday. Dadaji had nicknames for his students. Michele, Joanna and I were his “Wolves.” He didn\u2019t drive a car back then. So for many years Joanna, Michele and I picked him up at 9 a.m., making a loop around the Bay teaching classes, returning to Marin at 6 p.m. Between classes, as we drove, Dadaji would recite new compositions that we wrote in our journals. Every car ride with him was an intensive, especially on long eight-hour drives to teach in Los Angeles.<\/span><\/p>\n We all lived within a mile of dance class. For a few years Joanna, Michele and I shared the same house. We went everywhere together. We recited as we walked to class. After classes we\u2019d go over the new material. Reciting and dancing was never-ending in our household. Classes were five or six days a week and rehearsals were a few evenings a week. After class, which ended after 9pm, we\u2019d walk with Dadaji to the pizza place for dinner. He was always reciting and brainstorming. During one of those late-night-walks, I explained to him that the American audience didn\u2019t get the mathematical element of Indian music and dance. They needed to be educated. That\u2019s when the phrases “organic math” and “meditation in motion” were first coined. Years later Michele coined the phrase Kathak Yoga.<\/span><\/p>\n The Indian music scene was flourishing in the Bay Area in the late 60s and the 70s. Our audiences were enthusiastic and came to every concert. We had a devoted audience, mostly because of the hippie scene with its often naive interpretations of India\u2019s spiritual ideology and mysticism. The Beatles and Sandy Bull had already introduced Ravi Shankar to some Westerners.<\/span><\/p>\n In 1967, Don McCoy, a family member of mine, contributed $20,000 to Khansahib [Ali Akbar Khan] to establish his dream of a school of Indian music and dance in America. Those were the seeds of dreams.<\/span><\/p>\n George Ruckert was there during those very early days of the College. He recently reminded me that Khansahib, Zakir Hussain, and Dadaji were on a quest to perform wherever and whenever possible. There were concerts every weekend in churches and theaters in San Francisco and Berkeley. As new students we did our first performances at schools, in nursing homes, at county fairs, and home concerts.<\/span> One thing about Dadaji, he was able to adapt with the times. He realized that the American audience wouldn\u2019t sit through a three-hour concert, no matter who was performing. He created pieces that were ahead of their time: <\/span>Energy<\/span><\/i>, <\/span>Class Tech<\/span><\/i>, and <\/span>Rhythmics<\/span><\/i>, which eventually led to <\/span>Gold-Rush<\/span><\/i>.<\/span><\/p>\n In America, we were dubbed \u201cThe Pioneers of Kathak Dance\u201d by SF dance critic Alan Ulrich in 1980. During that same year, San Francisco\u2019s Ethnic Dance Festival was only a few years old. My belly dancing friends had performed the year before and I kept thinking, “Why aren\u2019t we in the festival?\u201d\u00a0 But whenever I mentioned it to Dadaji he rejected the idea because of the term \u201cethnic.\u201d He was offended and said, \u201cKathak is a classical art, not an ethnic dance.\u201d I kept trying to explain to him: Americans refer to anything that originates from another culture as ethnic. He didn\u2019t want to hear any of it. It was Christmas of 1980. He was away on tour in India. Gretchen, Michele, Joanna and I decided to call him and beg him to allow us to at least audition for the Ethnic Dance Festival. Reluctantly, he gave us permission and we landed the audition. We performed in at least twenty annual Ethnic Dance Festivals over the past four decades. We also performed in the 1984 Olympics, and for the World Drum Festival at Washington DC\u2019s Kennedy Center in 1987. Another highlight was performing on the same bill with Ravi Shankar in Berkeley.<\/span><\/p>\n In India, it was a risky challenge for him to present his American students. At first we were viewed as a novelty. But eventually we proved our merit. At the end of the 1981\u201382 tour, Dadaji and the Company, which had dwindled down to<\/span> Julia [Maxwell]<\/span><\/a>,<\/span> Marni [Wieser Ris]<\/span><\/a>, Batina and myself, performed on national television. Back then there were only three channels showing old 1950s American TV programs. Imagine my surprise when twenty years later on a visit to Darjeeling I saw our performance on TV.<\/span><\/p>\n
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What was the sociocultural environment like in the early days of your learning? W<\/strong>hat was the energy like in Pandit Das’ classroom and\/or on the stage when he performed?<\/strong><\/span><\/h4>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/leela.dance\/devsite2\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/04\/1Chitresh-Das-and-Company-1984-for-Noelle-Barton-interview.jpg\")
Not being in the professional work world, many of us didn\u2019t earn a lot of money. Whatever we earned we put toward our tuition. All our money went into the dance. Even with the grant money, we had to do much of the work. We designed our posters, (laid out by hand, before computer graphics!), we did the mailing lists late at night, and sold tickets (by word of mouth). We sewed our own costumes from the cheapest kitchen curtain material and glued on sequins. We designed and made props with paint, glue, duct tape and cardboard. The day before a concert we\u2019d make hundreds of samosas for intermission. Then on the day of the show, we were roadies: we unloaded rugs and stage props and set up the concert hall. Then with our costumes and bells on, we\u2019d wear headsets to give lighting and sound cues from the wings before running out on stage to perform. The company couldn\u2019t afford to hire people to do all that work. We performed to sold-out audiences\u2014mostly friends, musicians, and students\u2014and then we\u2019d pack it all up again and go home. A very close bond developed between the three of us. Dadaji would say about his Wolves, \u201cI feed them knowledge and they chew my hand off.\u201d But he knew the level of our devotion. We dove into the dance and immersed ourselves in his teachings. We couldn\u2019t get enough of the dance.<\/span><\/p>\n
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What kinds of challenges did Pandit Das face in his earlier years of teaching and performing in the US? And in your experience, what challenges and opportunities did the Chitresh Das Dance Company face, both in the US and in India?<\/span><\/strong><\/h4>\n
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