Many years ago, I read a Sanskrit verse whose core message struck me: to become a true artist, one must possess knowledge of both dance and music. The complete mastery of an artist’s lines, shapes, and forms flows directly from understanding rhythm, tempo, and metre.
It was during my student days at Konark that I first witnessed the Odissi dance of Sanjukta Panigrahi. She was a tall, fair-complexioned woman whose face held an expression that felt both ancient and deeply mysterious—like the serene countenances of the Alasa Kanya (indolent maiden) sculptures carved into the ancient Kalinga temple architectures.
From the moment her solo performance began until it ended, I was utterly mesmerized; my eyes never blinked. I simply gazed, my heart captivated. I felt as though an Apsara (a celestial nymph) from heaven had descended and was fully immersed in her dance right before me. Her body seemed as light as a flower, and she moved with the speed of lightning. What extraordinary grace! What perfect postures! A performance of that calibre is truly a rare and precious sight. It was that very day I fell completely in love with Odissi dance.
Years later, as I now experiment with Odissi music and dance in my own painting, I seldom watch Sanjukta Panigrahi’s performances on YouTube. Yet, every time I do, I am keenly aware of how insignificant these videos are when compared to the power of her living, breathing performance.
