“I was six,” she says, “and it wasn’t really my idea.” Her voice has the clarity of someone who has danced her way through storms. “It was my mother who noticed. I’d come home from school, put on music, and dance... sometimes for an hour without stopping. That’s when she decided to enroll me in Kathak classes. Looking back, I feel so much gratitude. My mother saw something I didn’t yet understand,” says the classical dance exponent.

Ghungroos once wrapped around the ankles of temple dancers, are now wrapped around the lives of those who carry forward their legacy. For classical danseuse Neeti Jain, Kathak has never been a performance. It has always been a calling.

In Indian classical art, the idea of “mool” (root) is what binds us to tradition, even as we stretch toward new forms. So it is fitting that Neeti’s recent performance, Mool staged at the Epicenter in Gurugram, chose to delve into the elements that shape a life in art: mentorship, failure, focus, discipline, perseverance. The production, featuring original music by Samiullah Khan, was an ode to the invisible scaffolding behind every on-stage moment.

“Mool is very autobiographical,” she says. “It flowed out of me. These are the things I think about constantly. Discipline, hard work, mentorship... these aren’t just words for me. They’re the rhythm of my life.”

A Life in Tandava and Grace:

“I learnt the aesthetics of Kathak under Jai Kishan Maharaj ji. Not just the taal, the tukras, or the footwork but the pauses. The in-betweens. The things you can’t explain but must feel.”

To speak of Neeti Jain’s journey is to speak of a slow unfurling. Her years of training, first under Guru Ram Kumar for over a decade, then under the luminous Smt. Rachana Yadav, and finally under Pt. Jai Kishan Maharaj, are chapters of transformation. Each teacher left a distinct imprint. “Rachana ji opened my world to concepts, choreography, and the architecture of the stage. She taught me grit. Jai Kishan Maharaj ji… that was something else. That was divine. I felt I was finally seeing the soul of Kathak, in its purest, most refined beauty.” In her voice, there is reverence not just for the art, but for the silence between the beats.

Kathak as Chronicle, Kathak as Mirror:

For her, the classical cannot afford to be static. “Classical dance and music have the power to move people spiritually, emotionally, intellectually. So why restrict it to mythology alone? The structure, the values, the aesthetics—they must remain. But the themes? They can evolve. They must.”

In its earliest avatars, Kathak was a form of storytelling offered at temples, devotional and liturgical in spirit. Today, its canvas is broader, more introspective and sometimes, more daring. “Mythology still holds us,” Neeti admits, “but I feel we must allow it to breathe through modern lenses. We need to speak to the world we live in now.”

This belief forms the core of Mool, which fuses narrative dance with philosophical reflection, merging age-old movement with modern truth.

Collaboration as Choreography:

The music of Mool wasn’t plucked from a library. It was built, piece by piece, like a house where every room held a memory. Neeti collaborated with Samiullah Khan, whose voice she describes as “soulful, resonant, rooted.” They worked for months, sitting together with themes, texts, sketches of sound. “We did hours and hours of studio work before the final track came together. It was never about speed. It was about sync. Sami bhaiya knew when to hold space and when to fill it.” Shri Mahavir Gangani and a host of other musicians also contributed, making the score not just background, but backbone.

As a performer, Neeti lives by the light of spotlights. But as a teacher, she burns with a muted fire. At her Mudra Dance Studio, over 60 students have passed through her care. “We’ve always seen our Gurus just be,” she reflects. “And that was the biggest teaching. You lead by dancing. You mentor by doing.” In her studio, teaching isn’t separate from performing.

“When you're at your creative best, your students absorb the most. It’s not linear. It’s osmotic.”

And yet, she is aware of the delicate shift with each new generation. “With every passing generation,” she says, “a little gets filtered out. Or altered. I just hope that enough is preserved. That the essence, the mool, stays. The new dancers are bold, experimental, open to dialogue. That gives me hope.”

Like memory, Kathak loops rather than ends. It bends and turns and returns to its root. In Jain’s practice, you can see the entire arc from temple to theatre.

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