Bharatanatyam

Jingle, jangle, jingle. Can you hear me? That is the sound of tiny bells, called ghungroo, tied around a dancer’s ankles, singing with every step. Swish, swoosh. That is the sound of a colorful silk costume moving through the air like a bright butterfly. I can tell a whole story without speaking a single word. I use graceful hands that form shapes like a blooming flower or a brave lion. I use sparkling eyes that can show if a character is happy, sad, or surprised. I am a poem that you can see and a song that you can feel through the floorboards. I am a dance filled with energy and emotion, and I have a very special name. I am Bharatanatyam, a dance from the heart of India, and I am so excited to share my story with you.

My story began a very, very long time ago, more than two thousand years ago, in a warm, sunny place in Southern India called Tamil Nadu. I wasn't born on a stage with bright lights, but inside beautiful, giant stone temples where people came to pray. All of my special rules and movements were carefully written down in a very old and important book called the ‘Natya Shastra’ around the year 200 BCE. That’s an incredibly long time ago. For hundreds and hundreds of years, special temple dancers known as ‘devadasis’ were my best friends. They performed my steps inside the temples to tell everyone amazing stories about gods, goddesses, and brave heroes. It was their special job to share these important tales with everyone who came to visit. I have two fun parts. One part is pure dance, with lots of happy, rhythmic foot-tapping that makes the bells on the dancer’s ankles sing. The other part is storytelling, where the dancer uses their hands, face, and eyes to show feelings like love, anger, or sadness. Every little movement has a meaning, like a secret code for telling stories.

But as time went on, my story took a sad turn. For a while, I grew quiet. People started to forget about me, and the temples became silent. I was almost lost forever. I worried my dancing days were over and my stories would disappear. But then, a wonderful woman named Rukmini Devi Arundale found me. She thought I was too beautiful and important to be forgotten. In the 20th century, starting in the 1930s, she worked very hard to bring me back to life. She helped me travel from the quiet temple courtyards to big, grand stages with bright lights and rows of seats for everyone. Now, anyone and everyone could come and see my stories unfold. Soon, people all around the world fell in love with me. They traveled to India to learn my steps, and dancers started performing my stories in countries far, far away from my home. I was so happy to be dancing for so many new friends.

Today, I am more alive than ever. Children and grown-ups all over the world learn my special movements. They tie bells on their ankles and wear colorful costumes, just like the dancers from long ago. I am more than just a dance. I am a bridge that connects today's world to the ancient stories of India. I am a way to share feelings without saying a word and to celebrate history with your whole body. As long as there is music to hear and a story to tell, I will keep on dancing. My jingles and steps will connect the past with the future, one happy dance at a time.