IN CONVERSATION WITH Rathimalar Govindarajoo
On dance, desire and transcending ourselves through art.
Interview and cover illustration by Shanita Lyn Kumar.
This is not the first time I’ve met Rathimalar Govindarajoo. Back in 2014, when I was a student at the National Academy of Arts, Culture and Heritage (ASWARA), I had the good fortune of watching Rathi teach a dance workshop in conjunction with the academy’s annual dance festival, Tari. Though I had never seen her dance before, I had certainly heard her name — and watching her that day, it was easy to understand why. Rathi has an inner passion and dynamism that comes through in the way she moves. In turns poised, animated, graceful, fierce, elegant and explosive, she has mastered the art of communicating her inner worlds through movement.
Having danced for very nearly all of her life, it makes sense that the language of dance now comes so naturally to her, in the same way our mother tongue comes naturally to us. When she was little more than a toddler, she would spend hours and hours watching the Kamal Hassan classic Salangai Oli on repeat — “My sister told me the film [on the tape] snapped so many times because I used to rewind, forward, rewind, forward…” she tells me over Zoom, laughing. “Instead of watching cartoons, I was watching Kamal Hassan dance.”
She was just four years old when her mother first enrolled her in dance classes at the Vivekananda ashrama in Brickfields, Kuala Lumpur, as a way for her to burn off some of her seemingly endless energy. It was a short-lived stint, though — her teacher threw her out after a couple of months because she was playing around too much to do any actual dancing. Nevertheless, it was there that the seeds of a lifelong passion were planted.
Photo by Jimmie Busby.
She had another chance to try bharatanatyam lessons the following year, when her mother began volunteering at the Temple of Fine Arts (TFA) in Brickfields to help her deal with the unfortunate passing of Rathi’s father. “Since I wanted to dance, she said, okay, fine, you learn your dancing here,” she says — and so she began her dance training in earnest, under the tutelage of one of TFA’s founding dancers, Guru Gopal Shetty. “We did adavus (basic dance steps) for four years — we did not touch an item. So it was theiya thei, theiya thei throughout!” She laughs as she mimics the repetitive, laborious rhythm that adavus are danced to.
It was only when Master Gopal passed away, and Rathi’s class of young dancers passed into the care of his wife, Radha Shetty, that she got her first taste of what it was like to perform. “We were the youngest at that time, and she created a small group of like seven or eight of us. So we would do lots of items for yearly performances and events and things like that, which was great. I think on Merdeka day we even did a kolattam (stick dance) thing in the streets.” Between sangeetham and bharatanatyam classes, rehearsals and performances, she and her mum ended up spending a lot of time at TFA, which was great for both of them. “My mum was [always] there — she would help out in the kitchen, cooking, cleaning, things like that. [It became] like a sanctuary for her to heal.”
One day, as the two of them were walking by the Vivekananda ashrama on the way to TFA, Rathi caught sight of a group of kids learning a kind of dance she had never seen before from an elegant, fair-skinned man. Among these young dancers were Mavin Khoo, Geethashankaran Lam and Umesh Shetty; their teacher was Datuk Ramli Ibrahim, the pioneer of Odissi in Malaysia and founder of Sutra Foundation. “I used to pass by and hang on the gate to see from the outside,” she recalls with a laugh. “I used to wonder, what kind of dance are they dancing? Because they were doing Odissi, and it’s so different from bharatanatyam.”
Photo by Gana Sundaram.
Incidentally, her sister managed to get tickets to watch Sutra’s production, Night of Purnima, just a few weeks later, and brought her along to see the show. That was when she saw Ramli and his dancers onstage for the first time, and she was blown away. She was fascinated watching the young dancers, who were about her age, dancing so gracefully on that beautiful stage, playing characters and acting out dialogues; and the production quality was like nothing she’d ever seen before. “So I was sitting there, looking at them, and thinking to myself, ‘My god, I wanna dance like them. So I told my sister, ‘I wanna join this school.’” She spoke to “Radha teacher,” whom she had grown to love dearly, about her desire to learn Odissi under Ramli Ibrahim, and her teacher gave her blessing for her to do so. Thus, she began Odissi lessons at Sutra, while continuing her bharatanatyam lessons at TFA.
Rathi still vividly remembers the first time she met Ramli, and the impression he made on her. “When I first went, I was so small,” she says, “and Ramli looked at me, and I ran and hid behind my mum’s maxi dress.” She laughs. “But he was very lovely!” Though she wasn’t aware of it then, Ramli also happened to be on the lookout for someone to play the part of the child goddess Keramat in that year’s Pesta Sutra, and deemed Rathi to be the perfect fit. And so, upon her arrival at Sutra, she found herself thrust into a whirlwind of rehearsals and workshops on Malay traditional dance to prepare her for her new role, on top of the Odissi classes she had originally intended to join.
Photo by Sivarajah Natarajan.
Within just a couple of months, she was centre stage. “It was amazing for me because I wanted to go onstage, and I wanted to be a part of it,” she recalls. “So I was not under pressure, but enjoyed it tremendously.” She went on a tour of Malaysia with the production, performing with 20-30 other dancers, being carried in on a palanquin every show night and acting alongside Sukaniya Venugopal, who played her mother. “It was amazing to experience that. Then when you finish that whole season, you think to yourself, my god — you want more, you know? It’s like drugs.” She laughs.
She was hooked. Her desire to dance and perform was now stronger than ever — so much so that when Ramli asked, through her mother, what she wanted to be when she grew up, she answered without hesitation — “I want to be a dancer.” Upon hearing this, Ramli went all out to give her every opportunity to keep dancing, performing and honing her craft. She performed in numerous productions, began to teach basic classes and spent far more time in Sutra than she did in school. Within just a few years, Ramli deemed her ready to do her arangetram (bharatanatyam graduation performance) at the age of fifteen.
Photo by Chu Li.
Working on her arangetram, Rathi found herself squarely outside her comfort zone. “This was the first time I was going to do a solo performance,” she says. “[It made me] a bit more anxious about being onstage. Because I enjoy dancing with a group — in a group, for me, it was more of a playground, where you’re playing with each other. Then when it became a focused thing on me, and I had to produce a solo performance… there was a lot of pressure.” She remembers that at one point she even locked herself in the bathroom at the musician’s house where they were having rehearsals. “I think that was when I realised what I was getting into — like, seriously getting into. It was just too intense for me at that point, and I locked myself in the bathroom and refused to come out,” she recalls with a laugh. “It took Ramli, Guna and the musician, Padma Subramaniam, to keep knocking on the door, coaxing me, telling me, ‘Don’t worry, just come out, you’ll be able to do this.’”
In hindsight, she regrets doing her arangetram so young, and wishes she had had her current depth of understanding back then so she could have appreciated the process more. “When it was over, I was just thinking, ‘Thank god I got this over and done with.’ Which I regret a little bit now, because I feel that if I had the maturity for approaching a solo performance at that time, I would have enjoyed the process more, and I would have gone deeper into studying the artform of bharatanatyam, and spiritually what it means to have an arangetram, and all of that. But I was not even sixteen years old, so I couldn’t understand what it took to be a solo performer, and to really understand the stories behind the varnam, the padams, the whole idea of what an arangetram is and how important this is as an artist or a dancer, to produce a solo performance. I wish I had that maturity of approaching it a little differently.”
Photo by Sivarajah Natarajan.
Nevertheless, it was an important stepping stone in her journey, and opened up entirely new doors for her. She continued performing and touring extensively with Sutra throughout college, gaining popularity and garnering acclaim across Malaysia and beyond. “Master invested a lot in me and my batch of students,” she says. “We did a lot of performances, and we created a name for ourselves, which is fantastic. That was something we should really be grateful to Ramli for, for giving us those opportunities.”
As she matured as both a person and a dancer, Ramli began to expose her to more contemporary styles of dance and more nuanced characters in the productions she was involved in. One such production was Unraveling the Maya, created in collaboration with ASK Dance Company. The show followed the journey of two protagonists, Awang and Siti, who get caught up in the lure of the fast-paced, modern, technology-driven world while also finding themselves inexorably drawn towards the mythic traditions of their ancestors. Rathi played the role of Desiree, the personification of modern society’s seductive pull. Stepping into this character was a first for her in more ways than one. “That was one of my first experiences being lifted [extensively],” she says of the technical skill the role required. “And that was the very first time I really worked with ‘professional’ dancers. I collaborated with the ASK dancers, and with Ballet Philippines who were invited over to collaborate with Ramli.”
The character of Desiree herself was also a lot more nuanced and adult than any of her previous roles, and required her to explore a side of herself she had never had the chance to before. “It was scary because I wasn’t sure whether I would be judged — because I’d always been seen as the classical dancer, and suddenly I’m coming out all in red, with red boots and all that, to seduce and be all erotic. It was an eye-opener, tapping into that and seeing how I’m able to [present] myself in another light. It was good! I think that was when I broke my inhibition a lot more. I became more daring.”
Around this time, Ramli also sent her off to participate in the American Dance Festival for six weeks, to let her see what the dance scene was like internationally. It was a bit of a culture shock for Rathi at first, seeing what was happening beyond the classical dance bubble she had grown up in. “I was like, whoa! I never knew that people danced this way, and they could just express themselves, and people could take off their clothes and dance nude and that’s considered art, you know?”
Photo by Arun Aravind.
After completing her college diploma in mass communications, Rathi found herself at a crossroads. What would her next step be? She knew she wanted to be a dancer — she’d known it for years — but now that she was done with school, it was time to consider the where and how of it. “There was this time when [Master Ramli] was sitting there with this magazine,” she recalls, “and then he looked at me and he said, ‘Take a look at that; there’s an advert in there for an audition.’” The ad in question was for Shobana Jeyasingh Dance, a UK-based company founded by the eponymous internationally acclaimed choreographer. “The advert was talking about how it was an all-woman dance company, and it was promoting women empowerment and the voices of women in South East Asian dance forms, especially in bharatanatyam. So I thought it was very Indian and I decided, no, I didn’t want it.” She laughs. “Yeah, I did that!”
At the time, the thought of leaving everything she was familiar with to go and join a dance company on the other side of the world seemed too daunting an option to consider. “I was so comfortable in Sutra, because I was in that bubble. I was protected, I’m travelling around the world… you know, I’m fine. Why would I wanna go anywhere? And the thought of going away from home….” But as she started thinking more closely about the kind of dancer she wanted to be, where she wanted her career to go and how she wanted to grow, she realised that she needed to break away from what she was comfortable with in order to explore more of who she was. So when Ramli gave her the magazine a second time, she began to consider the opportunity more seriously. She also figured that while she was at it, she might as well apply for a spot at Middlesex University to do a degree in dance, an option which wasn’t available in Malaysia at the time. So she sent out her applications, received offers for both an audition for the company and a place at the university, and was on a plane to London shortly thereafter.
Photo via Shobana Jeyasingh Dance.
The audition process for Shobana Jeyasingh Dance lasted two days. The first was especially nerve-wracking for her, as the audition was overseen by her former senior at Sutra, Mavin Khoo. “It was scary because I’d not seen him for so long. And Mavin used to be a very strict teacher — I was so afraid of him!” She laughs. However, that first day went smoothly, as did the second, which was overseen by Sowmya Gopalan, another principal dancer at the company. All throughout the process, Shobana herself sat by and observed the proceedings with a keen eye.
On the third day, she offered Rathi a place in the company. “She said, ‘Okay, we would like you to sign the contract, and to come in to be with us for a year,’” Rathi recalls. "And then I looked at the contract and said, ‘Oh, this is fantastic and great, but I would also like to pursue my degree at Middlesex University.’ And [Shobana] was taken aback. [She] looked at me and said, ‘I’m giving you a full time job and you wanna go back to school to pursue a degree??’” So Rathi made the decision to postpone her studies for a year, and go back to school when her contract with the company ended — but that never happened. “First year, second year, third year, fourth year… five years,” she says, counting them out on her fingers for emphasis. “It went on for five years, and I never got to do a degree whatsoever in dance.” Choosing not to pursue her degree in dance remains one of her biggest regrets. “I wish I had done it, somehow or other — taken night classes or something like that, I don’t know.”
Photo by Magendran Subramanian.
Still, she believes that her own personal and professional journey in dance has been an in-depth education in its own right. From her early days in Sutra right up till today, she has learnt more from being totally immersed in her craft than she ever did in a sit-down classroom. “I didn’t do very well in school, because I was never in school,” she says. “I was known to be the ‘dancing girl’ and not the studious kind. But looking at it, I think I learnt more from Sutra than anywhere else — acquiring knowledge about performing arts and dance and everything. So with that, I think it has actually moulded me into the dancer — not even the dancer, the person that I am.”
One of the key principles that shapes Rathi’s work today stems from something she heard Ramli say long ago. “He said, ‘You’re not just a beautiful dancer — you’ve got to be more than that.’ So I have been trying to find a depth in my performance, to see beauty in another light. To show people that it’s not always ‘pretty,’ and you should always appreciate things that are deeper than what is being seen on a shallow level.” When she made her award-winning underwater dance film, Blue, for example, she was particular about how her limbs and body were filmed. Her direction to Lesly Leon Lee, her friend and collaborator, was to capture her movements in such a way as to make it look visually beautiful, without being too provocative.
“You want to be desirable, but at the same time you want to be respected, not objectified,” she explains. “That was always a contradicting thing for me. You know, I’ve got so many friends who are very open about things, and they say, ‘Oh, why do you care about what others think? If you wanna take off your clothes, take off your clothes and do what you wanna do!’ But then that was not always the point for me.” She cites Shobana Jeyasingh’s approach to choreography as one of her key inspirations. “When she starts creating a piece, she keeps telling us that she loves androgynous dancers, who are not male or female. It’s just the movement of the body that expresses the message. So I think I was more interested in that rather than wanting people to look at me, or how beautiful I am, or how beautiful my limbs are, or how voluptuous or whatever, you know?”
This philosophy extends to her choreography too, in which empowerment is a recurring theme. The exploration of this theme began with her first major original work, Panjara, a thirty-odd-minute piece she created for Tarikan!, a dance festival held by Sutra in 2012. Against the backdrop of a Southeast Asian-inspired original score by Edwin Anand (also known as Coruz Hooks), and with an all-female cast of Sutra dancers, Rathi wove together a narrative of tradition, empowerment and freedom. The whole piece takes place in and around a square metal frame which represents the cage (panjara) of society’s limiting expectations and suppression of women. In it, she explores the disparity between cultural, archetypal depictions of women as the Goddess, the very principle of creation; and the marginalisation and disenfranchisement women from those very cultures face today.
There’s more to it for Rathi than simply advocating for gender equality, though; in striving to portray the energy and spirit of the goddess while presenting dances like these, women like herself get to experience a taste of what it’s like to truly embody that power, and hopefully carry it into the way they conduct themselves in everyday life. “When you are doing items like Dasamahavidya, or Simhasana Sthite,” she explains, “these items are so strong that [as] you try to portray those goddess-like elements, it really empowers you. You start taking the elements that are being portrayed, as that goddess, into your psyche; and eventually there’s some kind of strength that you build within yourself.”
It’s a transcendent experience for any dancer or performer, straddling the realms of the mortal and the divine by way of art. Her eyes light up just thinking about it, even as she struggles to find the words to describe it accurately. “Ramli calls it the angin (literal translation: wind). It’s that spirit. And I believe that we all have that angin inside of us, so it’s [about how you bring it out]. It’s… how would I put it? I don’t know. It’s like when I’m performing, or doing Dasamahavidya, of course you’re trying to portray the goddess, and you’re getting into that expression and the emotion. It doesn’t mean you’re getting into a trance — you’re still aware that you need to be standing in this position, that you need to sit low, that you need to keep your eyes open. So there is an awareness, but at the same time there is a projection of that angin, and the release. And once you finish that performance and you’re done, it’s like…” She strokes her arms absently, searching for the right words. “There is an… would I say enlightenment? You feel satisfied. If there were things built up inside of you, it would have just disappeared, and you feel relieved, and calm. I think one of the reasons for me to keep dancing is for that feeling,” she says. “So [with Panjara], I wanted to look at how that empowers you.”
Photo by Magendran Subramanian.
And it seems that, since then, her area of interest has never really left that theme of empowerment. “I try to move away,” she says, laughing a little, “and I tried moving away when I did some other works, but somehow or other it just never felt…. Every time I do something that’s about energy, healing, empowerment, woman, goddess — I feel it in my heart. But some other works that I’ve done that don’t touch on empowerment and things like that, I can’t even remember the names of! Because there was no meaning for me.”
This is why looking back on her portfolio of original work over the years is almost like looking back through a personal diary. Every piece that she’s created since she first started choreographing has been directly influenced by whatever she was going through at that particular point in her life. Take When Spring Came for example, a dance duet she choreographed based on Radha’s intense love for Lord Krishna, set to Sikkil Gurucharan’s heart-wrenching rendition of “Lalitha Lavanga.” “When I created that piece, I was actually very in love with somebody,” she explains. “And I was going through a season where I was in love, flying on cloud nine, and I was experiencing the passion and the feeling of being loved by another person. So I think then when I was asked to create a piece, it was very natural for me to pick a song that was igniting the feeling even more; and to also pick another dancer to be Krishna [so that I could] be Radha.” She laughs at herself as she speaks. “Sometimes I wonder whether it’s very cliché, because you [look back] through all of your works [thinking], ‘Is this why I did this work at this time, because I was going through this?’”
Rathi recalls a moment when she was called out for being self-centred on social media, which made her stop and reflect on what she was creating and sharing — and why. “There was once my friend asked me, ‘Why are you always posting about yourself? It’s all about I, I, I, I, I!’ Then I said, mmm, I think all artists are very narcissistic, right? They all talk about themselves!” She laughs. “But isn’t that what art is? It’s your way of communicating and expressing yourself, right? So I think only now I’m starting to [question] — as a human being, as a person, is it okay to look at myself as an individual, to celebrate my art or my dance, because it’s about me? Or to celebrate art because it’s something bigger than me?”
Having always believed that narcissism was a negative trait and humility a virtue, she found it hard to wrap her head around this apparent contradiction at first. She credits Eckhart Tolle’s book, A New Earth, for helping her understand and come to terms with it a little better. “It talks about the ego, and how we have a ‘pain body.’ There’s pain like jealousy, pain when you’re angry, pain when you’re frustrated, and things like that. So when you’re feeling that hate in yourself, you become addicted to it; you keep wanting to nurture that hate with more and more hate. So you unconsciously start inviting those kinds of situations to affect you, so that you have that feeling. So that’s what Eckhart Tolle talks about — how to come to a realisation that we do that at times, and how to eliminate [it], and to have no ego. That’s when I started realising [the need] to let go of expectations, to let go of frustrations or failures, regrets and things like that.”
Photo by Mikuni Yanaihara.
This concept resonated with her so deeply that when she was asked to speak at the TEDxHerriotWattUMalaysia event in 2019, it ended up becoming the underlying theme of her talk. Titled, “Rehab: What is dance to you?”, her talk was unique in every way — dressed in a simple white kurta top and pants with minimal makeup, she danced as she spoke, using movement to illustrate the points she was speaking about. At the end of the spoken portion, she presented a modified snippet of her original work rehab, which she had just gotten back from performing in Indonesia with Sueki Yee. But halfway through the performance, as she was smearing sandalwood paste all over her skin and clothes to the steady thrum of the Shatangayur Sukta, the hall abruptly went silent. As the technical staff scrambled to figure out what had gone wrong with their soundsystem, Rathi appeared totally unperturbed, calmly lifting her gaze to the audience. “The music stopped,” she acknowledged calmly. And then, to the technical team, “It’s okay. I’ll speak a little bit more.”
In that moment of the video, if you look into her eyes, you can catch a glimpse of that trance-like state she spoke about achieving through her dance. There is no trace of panic, irritation or confusion at the technical hitch — only serenity. Barely missing a beat, she begins speaking again, completely off the cuff, and delivers the most powerful segment of her talk yet. She speaks about the importance of being present and becoming nothing; about how the mind travels when we get caught up in the same old, same old; and about the importance of letting yourself get caught off guard, so you can be totally focused. “I need to be here, completely immersed in myself, to give you the best of me,” she concludes. The audience erupts in reverent applause.
Looking back on it, Rathi is very proud of that talk. “I’m very proud that I chose that topic, because I really wanted to speak about something that I was very passionate about, and I was happy I chose that. [Because] I think we all want to be, right? We all want to be so present.” In doing the talk, and having that opportunity to embody what she had read in Eckhart Tolle’s books, she realised that she had been doing it all along, without even being conscious of it — through her dance. “Because I think dance makes you so present. Being right here, right now — and not thinking about tomorrow, or what happened yesterday, or things like that. No, it doesn’t give you an opportunity to think about all that.”
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These days, Rathi has expanded her focus to include imparting the wisdom and experience she’s gained from years of performing to the next generation of artists and art appreciators. When she got back to Malaysia after five years of working full-time with Shobana Jeyasingh Dance, she discovered that it simply wasn’t sustainable being a freelance dancer in Malaysia. She did several odd jobs for a while to supplement her income before deciding that she wanted something more stable, something that would give her the independence, freedom and peace of mind she needed to keep pursuing her art. She thought back to what Shobana Jeyasingh Dance did in the UK — as they toured around the country, they would go into local schools and give workshops to secondary and college-aged students. “So that was intriguing for me, because then I started thinking to myself, why don’t I do this here?” she says. “Because it was not known at that time. There were just dance schools, where you go in as a hobby, and you pay a monthly fee. But in schools, there was no education in the performing arts. So I told myself, okay, let me try this.”
She started approaching schools, asking if they would like her to offer lessons in dance or something creatively inclined. The first gig she got was teaching an extra-curricular creative class to primary school children at Sri KDU Private School, which got her thinking that she could see herself doing something like this full time. But it was tough finding a school willing to offer her a permanent teaching position, since she didn’t have any formal qualification in dance or teaching despite years of experience. Finally, after being turned down by many other international schools, Fairview offered her the opportunity to teach while also doing a teacher’s training course with them. “I thought that was a good opportunity, so I took that up,” says Rathi. “It took me one-and-a-half years to complete that, while also being mentored by an international educator. She was actually a physical education specialist, but because she had an understanding of the performing arts as well as the syllabus, she sort of transferred all of her training and her lessons to me, which was amazing. I gained so much from Fairview International School, and I’m really, really grateful that I had that. Because if I didn’t, then I wouldn’t be able to get into the system at all.”
Photo by Magendran Subramanian.
Earning her teaching qualification at Fairview opened up a whole new world of opportunities for her, which eventually led to her landing the job she currently holds as a full-time Performing Arts Teacher at Stella Maris International School. With the stability and financial freedom her day job gives her, she is able to devote her after school hours to working on collaborations, freelance work and her own creative projects. And though she still loves to create and dance, she thoroughly enjoys being a teacher — something she never thought she’d say, as she was always more interested in being on a stage than at the front of a classroom. “I never really liked teaching, even though [I’ve been] teaching from a very young age,” she explains. “But I think over time, you start coming up with your own methodology — of course you follow your guru’s methodology, but then your way of presenting it and teaching it to the student will definitely be different. So I think I cultivated, over the years, my own personality in how to teach. And then when you start seeing improvements in the students — perhaps they become a lot better, and they start performing, and then you see them becoming professionals — then it’s quite rewarding, because you see that you’ve been a part of their journey. I think [that’s when] I started growing that passion for teaching.”
Looking back on her journey so far, Rathi’s pretty happy with how things have turned out for her. Sure, she may have missed out on some opportunities that meant a lot to her at the time, but the path has led her to where she is today — still dancing, still creating, still practising and honing her craft, sharing her experience with the next generation, and becoming more of herself every day. Moving forward, she hopes to continue to age gracefully with dance, and have longevity in her field. “Sometimes I tell myself, ‘My god, I’m so old! 42 already, what are you doing, Rathi?’ When I was a lot younger, sometimes when I would see older people perform, I used to tell my mum, ‘Oh my god, so old, I don’t wanna see!’” She laughs out loud. “But I think, of course, as you get older you gain the maturity of understanding how to appreciate an art form, and you start looking at it [differently].
“But it’s so weird — I only started getting more and more physical after the age of thirty,” she says. “I don’t know why I never tried experimenting when I was a lot younger — maybe there was a fear. And then suddenly when you hit thirty and you’re thinking, ‘Okay, I only have this much time left to dance, and I need to make the best out of it,’ then you start experimenting a lot more to see what else your body can do. So in that process I’ve broken my arm, I’ve done all sorts of things, but I think it’s satisfying. At least you know that you’ve used your body, your instrument, as much as you can. And now it’s about how you sustain it until however long, and to still keep evolving with time.” At the end of the day, what matters most to her is having enough self-awareness to know what suits her best as she gets older, and a firm understanding of why she does what she does. “Because at the end of the day, you want it to be worth it, right? Why — what is your purpose in doing what you’re doing?
“The other day I was just thinking,” she muses, “my god, if I were to get COVID, and die in bed, will I be satisfied with whatever I’ve done so far? Am I happy? I think I am. I think I’ve done a lot over the years. There’s still a lot to learn — I wouldn’t say, ‘Oh, I’ve done everything and I can die now.’” She laughs. “No, of course, there’s so much to learn. I know that there’s a lot more space to improve and to grow, but I’m happy where I’m at as well. Yeah, I think I am.”
BRAZEN QUESTIONS
At the end of each interview, we ask our guests a series of BRAZEN questions about what inspires them, in the hope that you will be inspired, too.
What makes you want to get out of bed in the morning?
“Currently, my little furry child Ewok wakes me up banging on my bedroom door! Haha... It’s good to have others love you more than you do.”
Who inspires you?
“My Amma inspires me to keep going everyday... she’s my everything, my all! Other than her, I’ve had so many artistes whom I’ve crossed paths with in my life. They have all inspired me in one way or the other. Without them, the experiences wouldn’t have been so colourful, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today!”
Who inspires you to be better?
“Master Ramli. He has not only inspired me, but moulded me into a better human, embedded art in my soul, and taught me about the universe through dance! He has invested his entire life in the arts, producing dancers and promoting performing arts globally. How can you not be inspired by a man who contributes so much to the arts here and abroad? He inspires me to be better — to even be capable of a fraction of his accomplishments will be such an honourable success!”
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
“A long time ago someone told me to ‘suck it up.’ It made me realise that some things just do not go your way, and there’s no point whining and fussing about it. All you must do is either give up or get strong and persevere. It’s a lesson of being resilient and effervescent no matter the situation and time. (Life is much bigger than us, the world doesn’t revolve just around one person!)”
Photo by Arun Aravind.
What’s your proudest achievement so far, in work and in life?
“Panjara 2012, and to have had the opportunity to travel around the world since a young age. I’m proud that I am still able to sustain myself in the performing arts all these years and witness how my career as a dancer has now evolved into contributing to the arts within the field of education.”
How would you describe the fullest version of yourself?
“A survivor! To survive through what life throws at you, to come out barely alive, yet being stronger than ever!”
Do you have any practices or routines that you like to include in your lifestyle to keep yourself feeling and functioning at your best?
“I workout (an hour or two) thrice a week. It’s become a necessity, like air, for someone my age to maintain strength and stamina for dancing. With it I’ve discovered ways to adapt the exercises to suit my body as it ages. It is not easy, especially for a dancer who’s had countless injuries over years of dancing professionally.”
When do you feel truly alive?
“Moments during a curtain call after a challenging performance, when audiences are applauding and showing their appreciation. Those gasps of air with a feeling of relief remind me of what I am here to do.”
Photo by Sueki Yee.
Rathimalar Govindarajoo (Rathi) specialises in Indian Classical Odissi, Bharata Natyam and Modern Contemporary dance. She spent her formative years with Sutra Dance Theatre for almost three decades now (since 1989), and presently continues to teach and perform with Sutra Foundation. Rathi is one of Shobana Jeyasingh Dance (SJDC)’s pioneer dancers who were employed full-time for five years (2001-2006) in London, UK.
When she returned, she ventured into education and began her journey with Fairview International School as a Dance Educator in the Middle Year Program (IB) for two years, and later a Dance Educator Specialist (DES) in the GCSE Secondary syllabus in Help International School from 2016 to 2018, and progressed as a Dance Educator Specialist (DES) & a Personal, Health & Social Educator from Preschool, Primary & up to Secondary levels in MAHSA International School 2018-2019. She is currently employed as a full-time Performing Arts Teacher in Stella Maris International School Damansara (Secondary School) and continues to freelance & strives to contribute her extensive dance experience towards the performing arts and education in Malaysia and abroad.
Rathi is also a Kakiseni Judge under the Dance category for the prestigious BOH Cameronian Awards.
