Remembering Hari Uppal
Dancer Hari Uppal passed away a few days ago, on the second of January. News of his death in Calcutta ,at the age of 84, was even carried in newspapers in Shillong. The Khasi newspaper U Nongsain Hima carried news of the Padmashree winner. Hari received the Padmashree last year.
That would have pleased Hari, who had an enduring affection for the people North Eastern India and Darjeeling Tea.
I met Hari Uppal about 15 years ago, and spent a lot of quality time with him, sipping excellent Darjeeling tea on the lawns in front of his Bharatiya Nritya Kala Mandir in winter or in his residence inside the Kala Mandir complex. He was always a courteous and dignified host.
I remember one of his students, Dhanesh, who was learning Bharat Natyam being near terrified of him. Seventeen at the time, Dhanesh told me that he had to face the Spanish Inquisition before Uppal granted him admission to the course. The old man was making sure that the boy hadn't joined the class because he had a crush on one of the girl students!
Hari Uppal was eccentric, and had a flash-fire temper, and had been known to throw a tantrum or five in his day, or so I am told. But then, he wouldn't be the creative genius people say he was if he were a docile door mat.
His exasperation grew with the decline of the arts in the Laloo Prasad regime, and with political (and perhaps lumpen) moves by certain ’powerful’ individuals close to wrest control of the premier dance institute. As he had founded the institution, he was pained to see the scant respect given to the arts in the days of the lantern.
Happily, perhaps, the past five years brought him more comfort.
He is missed and mourned in all cultural circles.
That would have pleased Hari, who had an enduring affection for the people North Eastern India and Darjeeling Tea.
I remember one of his students, Dhanesh, who was learning Bharat Natyam being near terrified of him. Seventeen at the time, Dhanesh told me that he had to face the Spanish Inquisition before Uppal granted him admission to the course. The old man was making sure that the boy hadn't joined the class because he had a crush on one of the girl students!
Hari Uppal was eccentric, and had a flash-fire temper, and had been known to throw a tantrum or five in his day, or so I am told. But then, he wouldn't be the creative genius people say he was if he were a docile door mat.
His exasperation grew with the decline of the arts in the Laloo Prasad regime, and with political (and perhaps lumpen) moves by certain ’powerful’ individuals close to wrest control of the premier dance institute. As he had founded the institution, he was pained to see the scant respect given to the arts in the days of the lantern.
Happily, perhaps, the past five years brought him more comfort.
He is missed and mourned in all cultural circles.
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