“When you came into this world it watched and waited.” These were the words Dadi Saraswati spoke to me, when I was preparing for my Orangetherum. I was an excited nine-year-old who loved to dance and was learning the choreography for Pasuram before Tiruppavai, Andal’s iconic rendition of verses worshiping his favorite deity – Krishna.
My special dance debut was at my maternal uncle’s wedding ceremony in Madras. In the 1960s, weddings featured full classical music and dance performances. There was a trend for girls to learn not only Bharatanatyam but also Tambalam (plate dance), Kurathi (gypsy/indigenous community) dance, snake dance (made famous by Kumari Kamala) and ending with Tiruppavai verses.
I was most excited about my transformation into a young and dreamy poet. I loved the side top knot (kondai) and the Tulsi garland around the neck. How was I to know that she would invade my heart, body, and mind for years to come.
My grandmother felt that I danced the best in the Andal part. “I think she was looking and smiling,” she said, caressing my hair. I requested him to tell Andal’s story again. I grew up listening to Tiruppavai sung at home, and especially the 29th Pashuram influenced me greatly, in which Andal vows to be reborn again and again only to serve Krishna. It seemed as if his entire body was humming with prayer and song. How could someone so young dream, sing and write with such amazing clarity?
Andal is the only female saint-poet to have her own temple, which is in Srivilliputhur. , Photo Courtesy: SR Raghunathan
Years later, in her last days, my grandmother told me: “Your destiny is to dance and sing about Narayana like Andal. The story of marriage is not for you!” Although I had memorized the entire 30 Tiruppavai Pasurams, I did not start analyzing the words until much later. I understood the self-belief, complete surrender, supreme confidence and profound joy that comes with deep love.
Andal’s poems are like a puzzle. On the outside it is all sweet and unrestrained devotion but it reveals a tender, hurt and vulnerable voice. 7th century BC This brilliant Tamil poet was one of the earliest of the mystical female dreamers and the only one to have her own temple. It was a vibrant tradition that transcended the boundaries of identity and geography.
But who was Andal in my mind? How did she look? What was his voice like? Was her braid long? Why top knot? What was his daily routine after Margazhi month? What did he like to do best? Vague images started moving in my mind. my mother had priceless Chitra Tiruppavai Books that illustrated each of the 30 verses, but the back cover caught my attention. It had a picture of dancer Vyjayanthimala, portraying Andal dressed in white. Finally, I could give form and structure to my many questions.
It was Vyjayanthimala and her choreography of all 30 verses as a dance performance that brought it all together for me. A historic stage presentation ‘Sanga Tamizh Malai’ at the Madras Music Academy was a significant moment.
My sister Pritha and I were sitting in the first row in the balcony. As soon as the curtain rose, I leaned forward and watched carefully. Finally, Vyjayanthimala stepped backwards and in a flash, the young Kodai goddess transformed into Andal.
Vyjayanthimala has inspired generations of dancers with her choreography of all 30 verses of the dance performance ‘Sanga Tamizh Malai’. Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
The very next day, I requested my mother to ask her Carnatic music guru Vidwan Madurai N Krishnan to tell me how the 30 songs were set to music. He shared this interesting story of how he, along with other senior students of the great Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar, patiently notated the songs for five years. When the recordings of Tiruppavai were finally released in the voice of ML Vasanthakumari, the songs were played from 5 am every day in many temples in Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh in the 1960s and 1970s.
Andal was an impossible role model for any young girl to emulate. After all, she had written Tiruppavai even before she turned 13.
I didn’t learn of the existence of a second book of poems until I was in my teens. Naachiyar TirumozhiI got this opportunity when my mother was looking for some special pashuram composed by Vaishnav saints for one of my dances, She was reading the opening stanza where Andal challenges Kamadeva, Here there was no victim of Manmada’s love arrows, Her voice challenged, coaxed, coaxed, taunted, pleaded and even threatened, My mother thought it was too bold for a 19-year-old boy in the 1970s to dance to those verses, but they stuck in my mind,
When I started exploring the 143 verses Naachiyar TirumozhiIt was like entering a dark tunnel full of puzzles and hidden streams babbling in contrast. A more mature person was speaking. “How do my Krishna’s lips taste?” She asks the conch. Such apparent passion was compared to the words of a helpless young girl playing with sand castles. The verses point to nature, and then the anguish of a young woman – who poured out her heart in a long love letter to Krishna, but later became silent – is piercing. As I read the last stanza, ‘I will tear out my breasts and throw them on him who is so cold and heartless,’ I cried silently.
From Anita Ratnam’s ‘Nachiyar Next’ Photo Credits: Courtesy: Northkey
I wondered how I could capture these changing moods in dance. In the years before 2000, Andal was not in vogue any more on the dance circuit. But I felt her voice in my dreams, urging me to tell her story now that my own life had found me alone again. It started with a solo performance in 1998, followed by a small group performance ‘Nachiyar’ in 2000. In 2011, there was another production with my sister (‘Andal-Andal’). Each expression was a step towards understanding this brilliant mind.
In my latest group work, Naachiyar next, I have traveled the farthest – examined his thoughts and life and tried to connect the dots that suddenly stop in the text. Centuries after Andal’s time, Vijayanagara king Krishna Devaraya provides a beautiful conclusion to the story, when Vishnu Narayana takes Andal into his existence as his bride and favorite wife.
It felt as if I was being guided every step of the way. After a restless night every choreographic challenge was answered. The choice of verses, the sequence of scenes – it felt as if I was merely a medium to tell his story in a bold and new way. The vague mist that I had first seen at the age of nine had become within me a gurgling stream and a fast-flowing river.
I always carry a pocket version of this with me Tiruppavai with me. There is a volume by my bed. I often listen to ML Vasanthakumari, who made 30 songs unforgettable. The young girl who merged with Vishnu in Srirangam was barely 20 years old, but my Andal has grown up with me. She is a woman, with brown temples, walking slowly but with a regal gait. When she appears the crowds part, trees sway, elephants blow trumpets and birds sing. My Andal is my shadow, my guide and companion.
published – December 24, 2025 02:32 PM IST