Becoming a Global Dancer: Rethinking One's Roots in a Connected World

By Archana Murali

What does it mean to be a global dancer today? Bharatanatyam and other Indian classical artists today thrive across continents. From Toronto to US to Singapore and Europe, Indian classical dancers are shaping fresh identities, building audiences, and experimenting beyond borders, while still staying rooted in the essence of their art. We speak to a few global Indian dancers today to hear their perspectives on how they are shaping this evolving landscape.

Becoming a Global Dancer: Rethinking Roots in a Connected World

Being an Indian classical artist outside India can feel like performing a varnam on a tightrope, it takes years of training, balance, and faith. But beyond the challenge of sustaining practice in foreign lands lies a deeper journey: shaping new identities, finding audiences across cultures, and redefining relevance both on stage and online. Today’s global dancers are not only performers but also curators, teachers, and cultural bridge-builders. Navigating social media, managing networks, and sustaining an art form abroad have become part of the performance itself, demanding resilience, creativity, and reinvention. The challenge, is not just about maintaining artistic purity in foreign lands. It is also about staying relevant - on stage, online, and often, on your own.

This article draws on my conversations with artists who embody this balance with strength and elegance.

For instance Archana Raja, a Bharatanatyam and Kuchipudi dancer based in the U.S. and the Artistic Director of Laya Dance - for her, the biggest virtue a dancer can possess is patience. “I also acknowledge the privilege of having a partner with a full-time job, which gives me the stability to keep taking risks and investing in my practice,” she says. “The rewards are never immediate, but the process itself is valuable. It’s easy to appear awkward or forced when trying to be modern just for relevance, but by trusting my trained body and blending my strengths with experimentation, I can create work that is both meaningful and sustainable. Above all, it’s about showing up, either to an empty studio, to rehearsals, to performances and trusting that something worthwhile will emerge.”

Archana Raja

Her words linger. Perhaps that is the secret. Not fame, not funding, but showing up.

Having been an NRI myself, I have always wondered if global audiences seem more open to artists who experiment beyond the margam. “In the U.S., audiences are diverse and many don’t have the cultural context to sit through a traditional margam in its entirety,” Archana adds. “You serve both diasporic and non-dance audiences. What draws them in is, when the form becomes a medium to speak to something universal. Experimentation isn’t about abandoning tradition, it’s about finding fresh ways to make it resonate.”

Across the world, in Australia, Christopher Gurusamy, a British-Indian artist,  is gently bending the rules of Bharatanatyam to fit his own story. “I am still interested in blending margam with my contemporary lived experience,” he tells me. “I don't believe we have to forgo one for the other.” His upcoming work 5 Arrows, an interpretation of the Mohamana Varnam, is already set to be performed at major festivals in 2026.

Christopher Guruswamy

Christopher believes that respect for tradition and personal authenticity can, and must coexist. “If the work is handled with care and remains true to who you are, there will always be an audience for it,” he says. “After a while, you start to see how the rules that govern you can be bent and reimagined. There’s freedom within the framework. It is up to us to explore it, even if it means failing sometimes.”

He also points to a creative tide rising in Sydney, where South Asian voices like author Shankari Chandran, dramatist S. Shaktidharan, and multidisciplinary artist Shyamla are making space for nuanced diasporic expression. “We’re walking the paths paved by generations before us,” he adds, “and now, it’s our turn to widen them.”

But what about the deep, almost spiritual connection between Indian dancers abroad and the institutions back home;  the sabhas, the guru–sishya lineages and the cultural validation that comes with belonging?

Kasi Aysola, a Kuchipudi dancer based in the U.S. and the Artistic Director of Prakriti Dance, puts it with his usual clarity. “In the sabha system… everyone’s just trying to survive,” he quips. “Dancers in Chennai want to get into the system, and sabhas are scrambling to pull in audiences; it is a cycle that feeds on itself. He doesn’t mince words about the economics either. “Dancers need to be paid, but sabhas don’t have the funds or patronage. So, they turn to artists to fund their own performances! They also turn to NRIs, who are a huge income source, but that creates a trap too. When diaspora artists become a revenue stream, it takes away space from local performers.” Still, he concedes, a few sabhas like The Madras Music Academy and Krishna Gana Sabha have managed to strike a healthy balance, giving equal space to both Indian and diaspora artists.

Kasi Aysola

When it comes to the guru-sishya parampara, Kasi is refreshingly candid. “This factor needs to be taken into consideration,” he says. “You get opportunities only if your guru is illustrious or has the right connections with sabhas. Otherwise, good luck waiting for your turn in the queue that never moves.” It was a sharp truth wrapped in his calm tone. The idea that merit alone can carry a dancer forward sounds noble, but in reality, the system runs on relationships and reputation. “And let me be clear,” he adds dryly, “applying to sabhas doesn’t work.” It was the kind of statement that landed like a perfect adavu -, controlled, on point and impossible to miss. Looks like this problem needs fixing. Yesterday.

Deepta Seshadri, a lawyer-turned-dancer based in the U.S., acknowledges this dual pull. “To a certain extent, yes,” she admits. “These sabhas and systems have shaped the way dancers are seen and accepted in India. They remain powerful spaces to be understood and acknowledged. And as our place of origin, there will always be a desire to maintain that association. At the same time, we must remember that these institutions were created by people, and like all people, they evolve.”

Deepta Seshadri

So how do these artists keep their art alive while continents away from Chennai’s December Season?

For Deepta, it’s consistency and self-work. “Steady practice and continued mentorship- that’s what keeps me grounded. Technology has made it possible to stay in touch with my teacher in India, so guidance never stops.”

Christopher, after spending twelve years in India, now finds himself evolving from a performer into an artist. “Living in Australia has not only enriched my practice but also led me toward a deeper, more reflective journey,” he shares. “I draw inspiration from a wide range of creative disciplines beyond Bharatanatyam; each one shaping my artistic voice in unexpected ways while keeping me deeply connected to the essence of my dance.”

Kasi points out that the system abroad operates very differently. “There’s no traditional sabha network here,” he says. “Performances happen at a higher level, with more variety and, thankfully, better funding though the current political climate.” He emphasizes that artists need financial support to fully realize their creative expression. “For me, it’s about delving into choreography and teaching, building on the groundwork laid by previous gurus who paved the way for us.”

And for Archana, it comes down to something simple, yet powerful. “Dance is my life,” she says. “I feel truly alive only when I am engaging with it. Keeping my art alive isn’t an extra effort,  it is just who I am.”

Maybe that is the real lesson. For artists straddling two worlds, the magic lies not in choosing one over the other, but in dancing, quite literally, between them.

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Archana Murali is a Chennai-based arts manager and musician.