Can Rani Padmini dance?

Since none except a few privileged media celebrities have seen Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s film Padmavati, all comments are in the realm of conjecture, or based on the repetitious viewing of a brief trailer. One objection is to the traditional Ghoomar dance and it is claimed that queens in Rajasthan did not dance, not even among their lady companions. This may vary in terms of precise customary practice, but let us admit that Rajput girls do learn the Ghoomar and other traditional dances even now, and participate in the joyful spirit of festivals from their homes.

In the film trailer, Deepika Padukone as Padmini does perform a rather graceful number, modestly clothed and eyes downcast. If one compares her to Vyjayanthimala, the Bharatanatyam danseuse in the Tamil film Chittoor Rani Padmini (1963), the vigour of Padmini’s dancing is at a different level altogether. Vyjayanthimala’s costume and the presentation of the body are quite sculpted. Yet, there was no objection raised by the viewers, instead there was great appreciation of Vyjayanthimala’s virtuoso dance.

The Doordharshan Series, Bharat Ek Khoj (1988 onwards), Episode 26: Delhi Sultanate, Part III, Padmavat & The Tughlak Dynasty, has a lovely Ghoomar dance, outdoors, with potential enemies watching from a distance. Along with Rana Ratan Singh, Rani Padmini is watching the women, but she doesn’t dance. Later in the telefilm, Khilji sees the gorgeous Padmini in a mirror and is struck instantly with longings of possession. Again, there were no protests on this popular TV series.

So why this new debate about Rani Padmini’s dancing being a matter of ‘’female honour’’? If Bhansali’s story is garnered from Jayasi’s Padmavat, Padmini was from Sinhala/Lanka where the customary practices would have been different than in Rajasthan. Would she have acquired dancing and other womanly accomplishments there? Ratan Singh of Chittor, hearing of her beauty from the speaking parrot Hiramani, went in search of her, wooed her and married her, as his second wife. When Ratan Singh brought Padmini to the Chittor Palace, severe jealousy sparked between the two wives. Was dancing the Ghoomar one way of asserting Padmini’s newly acquired Rajput identity?

Our epics and folk narratives show a strange fascination with Sinhala/Lanka. In the Ramayana, Sita is abducted by King Ravana of Lanka, and held captive. Ravana’s wife Mandodhari has ambiguous feelings towards Sita—admiration for her integrity, and yet a personal jealousy towards her. Nevertheless Mandodhari warns Ravana that he will attract ill fortune for abducting the honourable Sita. In the Ashok Vatika, Sita’s women guards, specially Trijata, become her admirers and friends. It is said that Ravana’s mother walks into a public assembly and berates her son for carrying away another man’s wife. These are examples of women in Sinhala—upright, intelligent, plainspoken. If Padmini’s origin is in this land, would her character not partake of the same attributes? How then would she adapt to Rajasthan where honour resides in women who stay behind veils?

Rajasthan’s link with Sinhala/Lanka shows up in folk narratives too, in the scroll of Pabuji ka Phar. The folk hero, who has pledged to protect cows, travels from Kolu village in the desert towards Lanka, “the land beyond the seven sees” in search of “she–camels” and also finds himself a lovely bride. This story also contains a speaking bird who influences royal destiny. This folk tale is said to be related to the Ramayana epic through several details.

The point here is really the interlocked genres of storytelling which it would be futile to separate. “Can Padmini dance?’’ is a question raised in the context of appropriate conduct for high born women. Would this not be culturally coded along a matrix of time and space even as we note the varied responses to the same story over the generations and in different regions of India. In Lanka and Rajasthan, the expectations seem to change. If a Tamil film portrays Padmini dancing with abundant devotion, are the expectations different in contemporary Hindi cinema? The social conditioning of the audience makes for the impossibility of a fixed visual text.