When I knew my grandfather was on the final chapter of his life, I was writing and rewriting my homage to him in my head to the point where, when I put my fingers to keys, it just came together.
Now, three years later, that’s not how it’s been with the changes that have happened this year. I’ve been working, working, working, working through grief and hope and grief and small changes and big changes and just struggling to find words. So, I let my actions do the talking for most of the past few months - well, three years, really. And, many things were also left unacknowledged, at least in written form. My own journal gave me a jumpscare when I saw that the last morning I had written in it was the morning before Amma passed, but the Thursday morning when I should’ve been writing - nothing. I know what I did that morning, but the headspace I was in before I faced the day is as much a mystery to me as to anyone else. And too much has changed since then for me to ever recapture that moment. And definitely, in the blurry weeks after, I was not keen to pick my journal back up and deal with the heaviness of my emotions.
My “next blog post” has been several lost drafts at this point and I couldn’t tell you what I was going to say in any of them. Or what I’m about to write now. But … here goes.
This is not a eulogy for Amma. I don’t have the words. Well, I have many words, and I find different ones on different days. Amma - she was, for me, Ammavaari Svaroopam. There were as many manifestations of her as I need there to be - and, I’ve learned in the weeks since her passing, others have needed of her. I cannot at this time distill her existence into a eulogy. I’ve built my entire life around her, and the way things are going, that is how I will continue my life’s work and that brings me joy. And that’ll be enough. cue the music “Who lives, who dies, who tells your story”
However, I do think I want to take stock of where I was when I started this website and where I am now, where I want to go. A milestone. A marker. An acknowledgment of the journey, a journey which she never pointed me down, but also encouraged me onward once I had chosen it.
I think I want to come back to writing regularly on here and taking stock of where I am much more frequently. I’ve been processing a lot verbally lately, but I love the written word. I need to relearn to trust sharing the written word that is unvarnished.
When I started this website, in 2018, eight years ago, I was afraid to say the words “I am a dancer”. I had already been dancing for eighteen years at that point, and I was pursuing my Masters in Kuchipudi, and yet, I was forcing my hand to say “I am a dancer”. I could never have envisioned where I am now back then.
I am splitting my time between three deeply meaningful areas of work, all of which support one another. And in all, I feel Amma’s presence.
I am studying Sanskrit, and using my Sanskrit studies to inform my analysis of the Kuchipudi solo repertoire. I’ve shared before that from my earliest music lessons, Tatayya focused on the interrelationship between swara (melody), sahitya (lyrics), and bhava (emotion). My first masters degree culminated in a study of the way in which rhythm was used for the purpose of expression emotion within the Kuchipudi solo repertoire. Now, I am looking at the way the alankara of the sahityam was translated into the alankara of dance, focusing on the Krishna Leela Tarangini, which is such an important source for Kuchipudi as a solo form.
I am teaching dance. I am continuing the work Amma started with Sri Sai Dance Academy. I was doing so since her illness, but I was not ready to announce it. We were all planning for her recovery and return, even if she told me long before the events of this year that I would need to be the one to take it forward. These past few years, she was in an advisor role, helping me find my feet. She made sure she told me every step of the way that she trusted my vision, agreed with it, and felt that I was capable and ready. So I continue on the work. .
Most importantly, I am dancing. My body aches in protest of my long commute and brutal schedule, and every snap, crackle, and pop remind me of how much work remains for me to get my body into the form I would like it to be in. But I am dancing with everything I’ve got - sometimes because that’s the only way I can turn my brain off.
I want to write regularly here, just as I did in the early part of the research phase during my first masters’ program. I have read so much these past few years, thought about so much, and the best way to distill my ideas is to write, so I will write as well. You’re welcome to join me.
Love & Light.