Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, November 1, 2025

There is no doubt that Shijith Nambiar and Parvathy Menon are among the nuanced contemporary interpreters of Bharatanāṭyam today. Every work of theirs, when examined through the four dimensions of abhinaya—āṅgika, vācika, āhārya, and sāttvika—reveals a deep philosophical grounding that shapes their choreographic choices. Their choreography distills movement and emotion into a refined abstraction, challenging audiences to reconsider long-held notions of how a narrative is constructed and conveyed.

Kavyam – the poetry within, is one such production offered as an ode to Shijit’s father, P Raghavan Nair, a Malayalam scholar whose influence deeply informs Shijiths thought process. Eschewing props entirely, Kāvyam rests on the disciplined physicality and expressive clarity of its dancers. The evening opened with “Amba Kāmakṣī,” rendered in the sonorous voice of T. M. Krishna. Set in vilambita kāla, the piece distilled the composition to its purest image—the eyes of the Goddess that see all. Beginning with two dancers chiseling her image with nattuvangam, she is personification of the power and purity in the arts and the eyes that travel from her image and draws back to the image is the desire that she fulfills. A unique personal perspective, Amba Kamakshi set the right tone of revealing the imagery behind the words. Parvathy Menon, as Parvathy, performed with serene grace. A special mention must be made of the costume designed by Mohanapriyan Thavarajah—its gold triśūlam motifs set against a deep red fabric added both symbolism and visual richness to the piece.

The following three pieces—Bhavayāmi Raghurāma, Jagadoddhāraṇa, and Śaṅkara Śrī Giri—each offered memorable interpretive moments. In Bhavayāmi, the expansion of the caraṇams into thoughtfully choreographed saṅcāris allowed the eight dancers to narrate the stories with well timed clarity and conviction. A particularly striking vignette was the story of Ahalyā, portrayed with sensitivity by Simran Sivakumar as Ahalya, alongside Aswathi Suresh as Indra—an interpretation that stood out for its emotive depth and dramatic precision. The lighting design by Sivan Venkitangu further heightened the narrative, illuminating the quiet manipulations of Indra and the subtle, unsettled expressions of Sage Gautama, played with restraint by Lakshmi Priya.

In Jagadoddhāraṇa, young Krishna—played by Bhadra was a delight to watch. The Kāliṅga Mardana episode, in particular, was rendered with a charm and spontaneity that only a child performer can truly bring to the stage. The only visual distraction was a misplaced spotlight that shone directly into the audience’s eyes.

Further iterations of Kāvyam would do well if Shijith directly introduced each item in his characteristically warm voice, preserving a personal connection with the audience and offering insight into his thought process—something a recorded voice could never replicate.

Overall, Kāvyam distills the creative ingenuity of Shijith Nambiar. Each of the dancers trained under him and Parvathy delivered with remarkable precision and commitment—no small feat, and a testament to the rigor of their guidance. Aswathi Suresh brought both Indra and Rāvaṇa to life with effortless elan; Simran Sivakumar offered a moving portrayal of Ahalyā; Lakshmi Priya captured the measured dignity of Gautama Rishi and the emotional intensity of Śūrpaṇakhā; and Vishrithi, Swathi, Limna, Varada, and young Bhadra added depth with their attentive timing.