Traditional Kuchipudi dance runs in her genes and so Chavali Bala Tripura Sundari, illustrious daughter of Padma Bhushan Dr. Vempati Chinna Satyam — legendary dancer, choreographer and guru of Kuchipudi dance form — did not let her father’s ‘no’ keep her from becoming an instructor par excellence in the ancient genre in her own right. Her father may have had reasons to keep her away from dance as back then Kuchipudi dancers used to travel far and wide, but left their womenfolk back at home. But Bala, against odds, picked up the nuances of the art form, mostly on the sly by peeping through the crevices of the bamboo cottage in which her father used to conduct dance classes for others. He used to teach Vyjayantimala, Hema Malini, Shobha Naidu, and Manju Bhargavi, who have since made a niche for themselves. It was through assiduity and keen observation that she mastered the Kuchipudi dance form, which her father had popularized on global platforms. Thus began the dancing career of Bala, who has established herself as a renowned teacher and choreographer, nurturing young dancers over the past three decades. Speaking to The Pioneer’s Subodhini Purohit, Bala narrates how she had kept the spark of Kuchipudi alive in her heart and fostered her love for dance through the years.
SENSITIVE AND EXCITED ‘BALLI AKKA’
It was a mix of sensitivity and excitement. I discovered that my father’s academy provided cottages for students from all over the country and abroad. Despite being the eldest in the family, I was surrounded by younger learners who used to affectionately refer to me as ‘Balli Akka’ and sought my assistance. Among my siblings, I stood out for being outspoken, bold, and candid; never the one to hesitate while expressing my thoughts.
DAD FORBADE ME FOR PURSUING DANCE
Growing up in the vibrant ambience of dance, its steps flowed through my existence like breath, sustenance, and elixir. Born into a lineage of dancers, I yearned to learn formally, but my father’s watchful eyes kept me from pursuing a structured path. Growing up in an orthodox Brahmin family, my father held strong convictions shaped by his own experiences as a dancer. Having witnessed the challenges in the world of dance, he was determined to shield his children from similar struggles. Consequently, he forbade me from pursuing dance.
SILENT HELPER FOR DAD
My father, affectionately known as ‘Master Garu’, was a renowned exponent of the Kuchipudi dance form. Although I didn’t directly learn dance from him, his influence remains to this day. As he taught his students, I absorbed the nitty-gritty of the dance form and found inspiration in his teaching. During ballet performances-those enchanting moments when the stage transformed into a realm of dreams-I found my purpose. While my father and his students twirled and leaped, I played a different role. Behind the scenes, I became the silent helper-the one who adjusted costumes, dabbed rouge on flushed cheeks, and handed out props. It was a labour of love, an unspoken bond between me and the art form that had woven itself into the fabric of our lives.
FATHERS’ LEGACY: ‘DANCES ALONGSIDE’
My father’s philosophy extended beyond dance steps. He believed in resourcefulness and in creating something beautiful from the simplest of materials. “What can we fashion from what we have?” he would muse, his eyes alight with possibility. Inspired by his ethos, I now craft my own props-ingenious creations crafted from discarded ribbons, cardboard and the like with imagination. Together with my students, we breathe life into these humble objects, infusing them with the spirit of dance. And so even today, in the early morning hours, as the sun stretches its golden fingers across the studio floor, I feel my father’s presence. His legacy dances alongside us, whispering encouragement and urging us to find magic in the ordinary. For in those quiet moments, when the world still slumbers, we honour not only the steps but also the spirit that binds us-a legacy that transcends time.
WHEN SHE REALISED THAT DANCING IS HER DESTINY
When I was a child, I would watch my father’s students-Sobha Naidu and Manju Bhargavi-sit in the hall, their faces transformed by skilled makeup artistes. Their costumes, adorned with intricate designs, held a magical allure. As I observed their graceful movements during performances, a spark ignited within me. At the tender age of nine, after returning from school, I witnessed their artistry on stage. The rhythm of their feet, the expressions that conveyed stories, and the sheer joy of dance enveloped the room. It was then that I realised my destiny: “I, too, should dance.” Not merely as an observer, but as a participant-a vessel for expression, a conduit for emotions. In that moment, the desire to wear those beautiful costumes, to feel the brush of makeup against my skin, and to step onto the stage consumed me.
