Christopher Gurusamy is a Bharatanatyam soloist based between Sydney and Chennai, who trained at the prestigious Kalakshetra institution, performing internationally to critical acclaim. Named in The New York Times’ ‘Best Dance of 2017’, Christopher Gurusamy has toured as a principal dancer in Leela Samson’s Spanda Dance Company, and performs annually at the Madras Music Academy, Sri Krishna Gana Sabha, and Narada Gana Sabha for the Chennai December Season.
When you were a child, all you wanted to do was dance, even though it was a ‘feminine’ pursuit. What do you think life would be like if you’d hadn’t been allowed to pursue this?
I mean, to be fair, I was always allowed to dance. My aunt had gone to Kalakshetra way back in the ‘70s, and my mum knew Dr Chandrababu in Melbourne, so it wasn’t something that was frowned upon, which I was really lucky [to have].
The kind of success I’ve had and the kind of things that have happened to me, I could never have dreamt of. I don’t have any ‘ins’ in Chennai… Somehow, I’m one of the lucky ones who’s really worked hard but succeeded in this thing. It’s like the universe conspired for me to be there and I kind of just went at it.
But what would I be if I wasn’t? I feel like it’s really ironic, but I would just turn into my parents and become a nurse. I’m actually really good with vomit and poop, I can handle it!
When you were 18 years old, you moved to India for the first time to study at Kalakshetra. How did you navigate this cultural change, having grown up in Perth?
I went to Kalakshetra in 2005, before the internet… I’d been to India once when I was 10 to do a pilgrimage, and that was it. Like, I’d never even seen Kalakshetra before. It wasn’t like Kalakshetra people were visiting [Perth either]. I had really no clue what I was getting into.
My family had bets on for how long I would actually survive in India, I’m not even joking! I got a lot of money after my first year because no one thought I would survive – then one year became four, four became seven, seven became ten… then a full-blown Bharatanatyam career.
At Kalakshetra there was no hot water, no AC, no fridge. Sometimes there was no toilet with a flush. You name it, I had to do it. My first time I had to wash clothes, I kind of just got a whole bag of washing detergent and put it in a bucket, put my clothes in it, walked away for half an hour – because that’s what I’d seen my mom do – and [then] just got the clothes and put them on the line. The next day I put them all on and I had rashes all over my body. Everyone thought I wouldn’t last, so nobody thought to teach me how to wash clothes by hand.
I was really lucky in my first year, the girls that were in my class with me, each one of them took it upon themselves to teach me one life skill. When I came back to Australia after my first year and suddenly had hot water, I realised how hard I was doing it. Going back used to be heartbreaking. I always say it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever done, but it’s also the worst thing I’ve ever done in my entire life, and I would never ever do it again. It was like being on the TV show Survivor for like, 7 years solid.
You’re currently training abhinaya (emotive dance) with Bragha Bessell. What does this teach you about emotions?
I’ve been reading a lot of self-development books and there’s these theories that emotions aren’t real. I was reading a book which said when you have an emotion it’s reactive, so are you actually feeling it, or is your body telling you something?
Abhinaya isn’t about you. It’s about everybody else. I don’t have to feel anything, I could be thinking about dead kittens, but you might be thinking I’m thinking about something completely different and that’s the game. It’s self-indulgent to go ‘I felt’ – nobody cares, did you make the audience feel it?
I feel like Abhinaya is really, really difficult, until it isn’t – it’s about doing the work to internalise and understand what you’re going to do, because if you understand that, it becomes easy. Learning Abhinaya is a huge process, it takes a long time to understand and it’s a lot of questioning yourself and looking at tools to make it work.
What’s something that you’re currently listening to/reading/playing/watching?
I’m listening to Priya Ragu on repeat. I didn’t see her live; I feel like Sydney Opera House isn’t really the [right] place to see her, but I heard it went off in Melbourne!
And The Song of Achillies [by Madeline Miller], that’s what I’m reading.
What’s a word that you like in a South Asian language, and what does it mean?
I actually like ‘da’ and ‘di’, like calling people that; it feels good in the mouth to say ‘va di’. Those kind of colloquialisms are something I miss in Sydney; I have one Chennai Tamil friend and we talk like that. People used to laugh at me because I sound like an auto driver; I learnt Tamil by talking to auto drivers. I present as pretty or fair or whatever, but when you hear me talk, I’m like ‘amam da’!
And finally: Soan Papdi or Papdi Chaat?
Papdi Chaat.
Neither really, I’m [actually] a dahi papdi chaat boy… I’ve gone to Calcutta and Bombay and eaten off the roadsides. I’ve [also] had malaria four times in one year.
READ MORE: Christopher Gurusamy: Ananda, dance of joy
