the forgotten pleasures of finitude
We are a culture in love with infinity. We want ever-expanding horizons; a world of abundance and plenitude, where we never run out of inspiration. In moments like these, the tihaai saves me
These days, when I hear people talk about their greatest desires, I find a new tenor: how their vocabularies are now suffused with words like "chasing dreams", achieving the "impossible", and breaking boundaries. We are a culture in love with infinity. We want ever-expanding horizons; a world of abundance and plenitude, where we never run out of inspiration.
While this is a wonderful change from a previous generation, I sometimes feel like we have forgotten the pleasures of finitude. In classical dance, however, I have learnt it well.
In Odissi, there is something called a 'tihaai' that occurs again and again in a dance. It's a pattern of steps and syllables that is repeated 3 times, hence the name. The purpose of a tihaai could be grammatical and practical (it separates the dance into smaller sections, helps you remember steps), but I find that it is also a way to enhance the dancer's emotional enjoyment. It builds a dancer's purpose.
A good dance composition is suffused with infinitude. You can never perfect it. You can perhaps master it, but only briefly. What you can do best is experience it fully, and it will be different each time. And hence, I can dance the same dance a thousand times and not get bored. It's a lot like chasing a dream.
But it can also become a lot like getting lost, which I find a lot of people doing, as they follow the drug of infinity. It can also become emotionally draining, which is always the cost of following passion. It can be a lot like irony, when the greatest pleasure begins giving you the greatest agony. I want the dance to go on forever, and yet I also find myself desparate to stop and taste it, to know how far I've come, how much longer there is to go.
In moments like these, the tihaai saves me. While I'm soaring too high and hungry, it gives me a taste of completion. It is familiar and comforting, it tethers me - I know exactly when it's going to end, allowing me to move on again. And for that reason, it's delicious.
And so in life, I've learnt that while thirsting and gravitating towards that great vision - the impossible dream, the body that never stops getting better, the life that never bores me - I shouldn't forget to notice when the tihaai occurs. And when I spot it, I must slow down to ride that wave, dance with it, and enjoy its finite gifts.