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IA: Can you introduce yourself and describe what it is that you do?
 

UDT: OK. My name is Urja Desai Thakore. I am the founder, artistic director and CEO of Pagrav Dance Company. I create work. I enable opportunities for the next generation. I am interested in providing new pathways for the next generation. I teach. I perform. I choreograph. I've got several hats as an individual.

IA: What hat fits best?

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UDT: It depends on what questions I'm asking at that particular time in my life. Sometimes it feels like in a single day I am changing three or four hats. Sometimes I feel that one larger hat is looking at it as an umbrella and I'm peeping into the situation in different spaces. It's a lot of out of body experience in terms of how I'm viewing the whole thing as a mode of communicating through dance. If you want to talk about that larger hat it's about how I want people to perceive Kathak which is my art form and how I want the existence of Kathak not to end, but live beyond what it is.

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IA: We will come back to that later on, thank you. What is your relationship to endings?

 

UDT: I don’t know if I really believe in endings. I think things can pause, or change shape, but I’ve often found that they come back to me in some way. When I was sent the questions for this interview, I began thinking about what an ending would actually mean in my life. A relationship with someone might change. You may not see each other for a while, or you may come back together as different people. But that doesn’t necessarily mean the relationship has ended. Even when someone has passed away, they’re still present in what you remember, in what you learned from them, and in the time you shared. I feel that with dance as well. I might move away from a piece of choreography, but then I see a recording years later and something comes back. It’s a bit like watching an old family video. Everyone has grown and life has moved on, but that moment still exists. Of course, I can only speak about the life I’m here to experience. I don’t know what happens when I’m no longer here. But so far, whether it’s with a person, a collaborator, a dancer or an art form, I’ve found that things have a way of returning.

 

IA: You spoke about that on the latest episode of your podcast, the three of you in conversation, you meet each other as different roles and at different times. Can you talk about that repetition of encounter a bit more?

 

UDT: Yes. I recognise that in my own journey with dance. When I was learning dance from my guru - Kumudini Lakhia – there were several times where she asked me to be part of the company, and I said no. I wanted to focus on my education. But I did go back, and my relationship with the dance started again, but this time it was a very different relationship. I had always enjoyed dance, but when I returned it became much more personal to me. With the people in that particular podcast episode, we first met as friends. Then they wanted to come and learn with me, so I became their teacher. But we still used to hang out after performances or after class and the friendship remained. They believe in their heart that I'm their guru, but they don't address me as that and I'm absolutely fine with that. Then, for personal reasons, they had to take a break from dance for a while, but they came back into Pagrav's life as trustees. One one them is back as a dancer and the other is training to be a teacher. So each time we meet again, we’re bringing all those earlier relationships with us, but we’re also meeting in a new way. I always find myself going back to relationships and I like to nurture the relationships which are with me. I think that’s why I’m drawn to working with people again. With a collaborator you know well, there’s trust, and that gives you room to challenge each other and discover something different. And even if we don’t make another piece together, I might still go to them with a question or talk through an idea. For me, the conversation is still alive.

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IA: Let's talk about Khoj. You've just had the first creation period and you had two R&D periods before that. Can you talk about the ending of each of those periods and what you took specifically from that phase into this phase. I'm interested in what do you choose to take forward.

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UDT: Sure. When we started our first R&D we didn't know what the piece was going to be. We had worked together on DEVA, so I knew he was interested in text, and he knew I wanted to find new vocabulary for Kathak. That was what we brought into the room. We wanted to see where those interests might take us. It was originally called Talaash, but Khoj is much more deeper and about the internal quest. In the second R&D, we started making sketches with the text, and by the end of it we could see a direction. We had a rough idea of how many dancers the work might need and how we might work with them. I would usually want everyone in the room together, but logistically that wasn’t possible. So we took those ideas, and those practical questions, into the first creation period. By the end of creation phase one, the storyboard and direction of the piece had become much clearer. We could see what we wanted from the set and costumes too. But we also realised we needed more time with the dancers than we had expected, particularly focused time with those who would be speaking. There’s still work to do in finding how the text and movement live together, both theatrically and dramaturgically. What’s lovely for me is that the things we came in with are still there: Hetain’s interest in text and my wish to invite people to see Kathak differently. Those ideas have stayed with us. What has changed is the path the work is taking.

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IA: Do you know what you want the end of Khoj to be?

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UDT: I know the feeling I want people to leave with. I’m quite sure about that. What I don’t know yet is exactly how the piece will end on stage.

Usually, when I make a work, I have a very clear beginning and a very clear ending, and I find my way between the two. With Khoj, the beginning is clear, and we have something that might be an ending. But I’m not ready to say that it’s the ending. We still need to spend more time with the work.

 

IA: When you are a performer and choreographer - how do you decide the end? In reference for Rangmālā and your work on that.

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UDT: It’s a difficult question, because I experience an ending differently as a performer and as a choreographer. As a performer, I need to follow what’s happening in my body at that moment. With a solo, especially, the piece can keep changing. You may know the route towards the ending without arriving there in exactly the same way every time. Live music gives you even more room for that; with recorded music, the finish is much more fixed. And once I’ve finished performing, the choreographer in me starts thinking: perhaps I needed another moment there, or perhaps I could have taken it in a different direction. The performance has ended, but that conversation in my head carries on. Rangmālā is interesting because it uses recorded music, so the ending is set. I made it quite quickly, with a clear intention to explore four distinct nayikas, or heroines, from Indian classical art. People often expect a dance to build towards a big finish. But Rangmālā begins with speed and ends more slowly. I feel composed and still at the end, and I want to leave the audience a little space to breathe. With Rooh, which has live music, the ending can feel different each time. Sometimes I reach there with tears in my eyes, and I can sense that emotion in the audience too. Other times, something practical happens, perhaps a prop doesn’t behave, and my mind has moved ahead while I’m still performing. That’s part of the experience as well. In Kathak, we have the sam, that poised arrival on the first beat of the rhythmic cycle. It can feel like a very definite finish. But in my choreography, I often want that moment to extend beyond itself. It’s more like saying “and…” than “and, one.” Reading your other interviews made me realise that I’ve been drawn to that sense of continuation in my work for quite a long time.

 

IA: In terms of your guru Kumudini Lakhia – who passed last year - what was that like for you? The idea of that ending which is a significant relationship.

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UDT: With Kumiben, it’s complicated. I don’t think I was ever her favourite student. I knew she loved me, but she had her own way of showing it, and I always felt I had to work hard for her approval. I wasn’t someone who would pick up the phone and call her often. I would speak to her on her birthday and on Guru Purnima, and if she came to the UK, I would make sure we went out for dinner. So I have lost the possibility of those conversations. But I don’t feel that she has gone from my life. I still talk to her, in a way. I have her photograph in both my studios, in London and Milton Keynes. If I’m stuck, I’ll look at it and say, “Come on, help me.” And often something comes. What she taught me about Kathak, and about questioning every movement, is still very present in how I work. Once she told me, “Urja, I don’t think you can ever do floor movement.” I didn’t argue with her, but my next piece was made almost entirely on the floor. I wasn’t trying to prove her wrong. I took what she said as a challenge, and I still find myself doing that. I can almost hear her asking, “Are you repeating yourself? What else can you do?” So yes, there is a very real sadness in knowing I can’t speak to her as I used to. But I still return to her words, and to the way she looked at dance. In that sense, our conversation hasn’t ended for me.

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IA: You wrote a piece for World Lifestyler and there's a particular part of a quote where you say “artists who once devoted themselves primarily to practice now find themselves becoming fundraisers and managers and employees and trust and all those things. And this creates a tension that many culturally specific organizations quietly carry.” Could you talk more about how you would want to end that tension that culturally specific organizations might carry?

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UDT: This is something I feel very strongly about. I would like Indian classical dance to have the infrastructure that other established art forms, such as ballet, have built around them. The training is demanding and takes years, but the conditions artists work in don’t always reflect that.

I was in a conversation recently where someone explained that a ballet piece couldn’t be performed outdoors because it needed a particular floor. I said, “Kathak needs a particular floor too.” We dance barefoot. The floor matters to our bodies, yet that requirement isn’t always understood or planned for. There’s also a question of how seriously the training is regarded within our own communities. A family might support a child attending music lessons several days a week, but hesitate when a dance teacher asks for more than one class. That needs to change through greater understanding, but also through visible opportunities for young dancers to build a career. For me, ending this tension means building a support system in which people can develop the skills they actually want to use. An artist who wants to perform shouldn’t have to become a producer simply to keep dancing. Someone who loves teaching shouldn’t be expected to choreograph, and a choreographer shouldn’t automatically have to teach. These are different skills. It is getting better. More Indian classical dance organisations have funding that allows them to employ and support artists. But the pool is still small. I’m working with twelve Kathak dancers, and if one becomes unavailable, finding someone to step in is difficult. So we have begun building that infrastructure, but there is a great deal more to do before artists have genuine choices about the work they take on.

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IA: We're just past the midway point of 2026. Looking back at 2025, what was that like for you in terms of Kathak in the UK? Was it a good year? Was it a bad year?

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UDT: I think it was a good year for Indian classical dance in the UK, even with the challenges we’ve been talking about. There are more opportunities, and I can feel more curiosity about what Kathak can be. But there is still tokenism, and still a lot of work to do in helping people understand the art form. I was asked recently to perform Kathak at a wedding. I said I don’t usually do weddings, but I would consider it if people were seated and there was no alcohol during the performance. They agreed. Then, when I asked what they had in mind, they said something like Heeramandi. I found that difficult, especially because the request came from people within our own community. It reminded me how easily Kathak can be reduced to an image of what people think it is. At the same time, there is clearly an appetite for dance. In 2025 and 2026, our semi-
professional group had more performance opportunities than our professional group. We were also part of an A. R. Rahman show where dance was such a visible part of what people shared afterwards, although the space given to dancers in the production felt quite limited. So I wouldn’t call it simply a good or a bad year. I see real energy around the form, and people who want to push its boundaries. I also see audiences who value its traditions. What I want is for both to be met with greater understanding and care

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IA: How do you consider your own archive?

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UDT: I archive everything. With Baharan, my first production, I recorded all ten performances on my own camera. They weren’t professional recordings, but I still have them on DVD. Since then, I’ve kept photographs, rehearsal and backstage footage, recordings of performances, applications whether they succeeded or not, and the feedback we received. That material became especially valuable for Pagrav’s twentieth anniversary. We used it to make a documentary, and it let me see the lives within the work, not only the productions. There’s a dancer who first came to me when she was six, and now she’s getting married in September. Seeing that journey is quite moving. I also go back to the archive to look at my own choices. I might forget the details of an application, but I remember what I was trying to do in each piece. I don’t want to repeat myself. For example, I’ve worked with live musicians moving on stage in both Kattam Katti and Rooh. Looking back makes me ask: what is different about the relationship between the dancers and musicians this time? What haven’t I explored yet? So the archive holds memories, but it also helps me keep questioning the work. I can look from Baharan to what I’m making now and see how my thinking, and the support around the work, have changed.

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IA: If you look back at Baharan, you as a choreographer then versus now, how would you say you have changed? What has changed in those 20 years?

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UDT: A lot has changed. When I began Baharan in 2005, I was quite new to working in the UK. It premiered in 2008, and it was the first time I had made a piece here with two other dancers, while also performing in it myself. I can see the beginnings of interests I still have now. I was using literature, different sounds and different kinds of material. At the time, I thought I had brought those elements together very well. Looking back, I can see how much I still had to learn about using them in choreography. Moving from India to the UK made me question things I had taken for granted about dance. My master’s at Roehampton was an important part of that. I focused on choreography and worked alongside contemporary dancers whose approaches were very different from mine. I remember one exercise in which a student lay still on the floor. The task was to shock the audience, and I was shocked because I thought, “But you’re not dancing!” It opened up a different way of thinking about what could happen on stage. I’m still working with that question, really. How do I remain within the grammar of Kathak while making something that feels alive to the people encountering it now? I ask it with much more experience than I had during Baharan, but I don’t think I’ve finished answering it.

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IA: What do you think your legacy will be?

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UDT: That’s a difficult question. [ Long Pause] I think there are two things. The first is my students: their love for Kathak, and the values they carry into their own work. I hope I pass those on through my teaching, through what I make, and through the way I work with people. I can already see some of that happening. Sometimes a student does something that irritates me, and then I have to laugh and remind myself, “Well, you encouraged them to think for themselves!” The second is something I still want to build. I would love to create a Kathak concert tour in this country with the mahol, the atmosphere, that you feel around Indian classical performance in India. I want to bring that richness into theatres here, with the care for lighting, sound and stagecraft that a touring production can offer. I would also want to leave behind some of the hierarchy and politics that can come with the form. If that becomes possible, it could give artists and audiences a different way to experience Kathak in the UK. I can see the first legacy taking shape around me. The second is harder, but it’s something I would very much like to leave behind.

 

IA: Looking back at 20 years, what is the production that stands out for you? We can't have a politician's answer. What is the one?

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UDT: I think the engineering part of me is always mapping space. When I walk into a building, I begin to imagine how people might move through it. I do the same thing when I’m making a dance: I’m looking at the distances between people, the pathways they take and how the space changes as they move. That also connects to what I learned from Kumiben. She made me think about dance as something happening in the space around the body, as well as in the steps themselves. I still carry that way of looking into the studio. Interior design comes through in how I think about colour, light and where I want the audience’s attention to go. There may be a moment when I want them to notice only a hand, or a hat, and then another when I want them to see the whole stage. So when I speak with a lighting designer, I often have a strong sense of what that focus needs to do. Of course, they bring their own ideas, but I’m already thinking about how each visual choice serves the choreography.

 

IA: Your original training in higher education was in civil engineering and interior design. How does that thinking and approach inform your work as a dancer and a choreographer?

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UDT: As a civil engineer you are constantly mapping the space and that's what I do as a choreographer. When I look at a building I instantly think about how the space can move. I feel that the space, and again learning from Kumiben, she used to always say that the dance does not happen from here to here. It is in the space between your chest and your body, that's where dance is happening. Learning from her and her philosophy of dance has informed the way and how things are moving for me. With interior design and the use of lights, where can you put that, what emphasis do you want to give and at what time in the show? How do you want to zone in or zone out? How do you want to ask people to focus on one thing and then on a bigger picture? When I'm having conversations with a lighting designer, you know this is where I just want them to see the hat, or I just want them to see the hands. So even before they...bless them, before they come in with a creative idea, I already have got an idea that this is the reason I'm doing it. That is also to do with my interior design mind and the colour palette of the costume and all of those things.

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IA: I have no idea like what goes on in a civil engineering course? What were some of the things that you were doing in terms of either essays or practical work?

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UDT: It was very practical. We would calculate what a beam needed structurally, or be given a plot of land and asked, “How would you fit forty houses here?” Then the brief might change: “Now design five houses on the same plot, and make each one different.” You had to think about the layout, water, toilets, materials and cost, all at once. I can see that thinking in how I make productions now. You start with an idea, but you also have a space, a budget and a set of practical questions to solve. I find myself asking: what does this part of the work really need, and what is the most effective way to use the resources we have?

 

IA: I have a few more questions. But this is a chance to say if there is anything that you've not spoken about so far in terms of dance and endings that would like to?

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UDT: Perhaps just that I don’t really think of an ending as a full stop. I think of it more as an extension into something else. I feel that way about Kathak too. It has always evolved, and I hope it keeps evolving rather than becoming fixed in one idea of what it should be. I want that evolution to be thoughtful, so the form continues to grow and to contribute to the wider world of dance. I hope there will always be another question to ask of it, and another direction to explore.

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IA: In terms of BBC Young Dancer and the choreography that you did for Vidya Patel, that's over 10 years ago now. Can you talk about that and what does that feel like in terms of endings?

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UDT: I understood why BBC Young Dancer mattered, but I had reservations about the format at the time. Bringing Kathak, ballet, street dance and contemporary dance into the same competition sounds exciting, but the young dancers weren’t necessarily arriving with comparable access to training. An eighteen-year-old ballet dancer might have trained intensively at a specialist school, while an eighteen-year-old Kathak dancer in the UK might still be learning once a week. I didn’t feel the format fully recognised that difference. I felt the later series gave the dancers more room to use their own vocabulary to say what they wanted to say. That made it a better platform for Indian classical dance. And it was a platform. Working with Vidya on the choreography was part of a much longer journey, and being seen by such a wide audience brought attention to artists who deserved it. That visibility can make a real difference. So, in terms of endings, I’m sad that there hasn’t been another series. I still think there are questions to ask about how dancers from different forms are supported and judged. But I would love to see a platform like that continue to grow. I hope this is a comma for BBC Young Dancer, rather than a full stop.

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IA: It's the end of the world. We’re talking the end of days. If you could have a last dance with two people, who would they be and what dance would you do?

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UDT: I would dance with my kids. Whatever they like.

 

IA: What would be their favorite dance? What would it be right now? Like if they say, "Mum, I want to do a dance, what is it at the moment?"

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UDT: That’s the lovely thing: they would choose completely different music. My daughter learns Kathak with me, and she’s begun to enjoy it more since the youth company started. But she doesn’t like loud music. My son is twenty-one and loves going out dancing, so his choice would be quite different. I don’t know what either of them would put on that day, but I’d dance with them to whatever it was.

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IA: What is the best ending in dance that you've ever experienced?

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UDT: The best ending is when a dance finishes and I wish it would keep going. I know you’re asking me for a particular ending, and I’m avoiding it again! But that feeling, when I’m still with the work after the performers have left the stage, is what stays with me.

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IA: Who gives you that feeling?

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UDT: Quite a few people. Within Indian classical dance, Priyadarsini Govind has given me that feeling. When she performs, my heart almost stops. Aditi Mangaldas too. And I felt it when I saw Aakash in Rising. He began his career in Baharan with me, so I’ve watched his journey over the years. Seeing what he had made, I felt so proud of him. I get that feeling with my students as well. Sometimes it’s only one moment in a piece, or something they do in class, and I think, “Yes, that. Stay with that.” I’ve seen Desh three or four times, and I’ve cried every time. I think that’s what I’m drawn to: a performance that reaches you emotionally and leaves you feeling a little tender afterwards.

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IA: Is there anything else that you'd like to say about dance and endings?

 

UDT: Only this: when the world really is ending, I think everyone will be dancing.

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