New Delhi: Chaos and calm, silence and cymbals, stillness and thrum, with these, the stage of RAM comes alive—a dance-drama where emotion shapes movement. Ram and Sita’s tender moments unfold through the grace of Kathak, while Ram and Ravan’s clash erupts with the raw energy of Chhau. The stage becomes a mix of divinity, love, war, and return.
It’s both a metaphysical return and a physical one for Delhi’s Mandi House. RAM is one of the most adored performances of the Ramayana, which returns to the Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra every year – an ode to the enduring love for both the epic and its re-enactment. From Jawaharlal Nehru to Atal Bihari Vajpayee to Narendra Modi, from the swinging 1960s to the Age of AI, the power-packed dance drama has spoken to all generations.
This return—this homecoming—is what Padma Shri Shobha Deepak Singh has witnessed and lovingly preserved for 68 years. Since RAM was first staged, she has seen it all: the birth of Ram, his exile, his triumphal return, and his coronation—year after year, moment by moment.
And she’s not ready to let go.
Every autumn, as jasmine scents fill Delhi’s streets and a gentle chill creeps in, the legendary dance-drama returns to its open-air stage. For more than 60 years, generations have gathered beneath the night sky to witness it—part of a memory and ritual.
First staged in 1957 with the patronage of former PM Nehru and envisioned by arts patron and founder of Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra, Sumitra Charat Ram, poet Ramdhari Singh Dinkar, and actor and dancer Guru Gopinath, RAM began as a bold experiment in modern Indian storytelling. It was a brilliant blend of India’s dance traditions: Mayurbhanj Chhau, Kalaripayattu, Bharatanatyam, and Kathakali, brought to life with evocative music, immersive theatre, and bold stagecraft.
Today, under the direction of Shobha Deepak Singh, RAM continues to evolve, season after season, adding new layers without losing its soul.
This cultural vitality hasn’t gone unnoticed by city leaders either.
Delhi’s Chief Minister Rekha Gupta recently reflected on the city’s vibrant festival spirit, highlighting how such traditions enrich urban life.
“In Gujarat, Dandiya goes on all night, so why should Delhi’s celebrations be cut short? That’s why this year, we’ve extended permission until midnight. All Ramleela, Durga Puja, and other cultural events can now continue till 12 am,” she said, calling on everyone to support and preserve this living heritage. “Ram Rajya should come to Delhi,” she added, underlining how these age-old stories still inspire hope and unity today.
The two Rams
Backstage at Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra, the air is thick with the scent of sweat and incense. Costumes rustle. Mirrors reflect flickers of divine characters. And in the middle of all this, Rajkumar Sharma, in his mid-50s now, readies himself to become Ram.
For 35 years, Sharma has embodied the character on stage, but the transformation has long since seeped into his everyday life. His aging mother battles cancer. The pressures of directing, choreographing, and mentoring young dancers mount.
Still, Sharma shows up—every single day. “I’ve learned how to wait,” he said. “Ram doesn’t react. He reflects. He listens before he speaks. That has stayed with me.”
It wasn’t always this way.
In the Delhi of the 1980s, growing up in a conservative Punjabi household, dance was not a viable path for boys. Sharma’s love for performance simmered beneath the surface until his elder brother bluntly asked, “What are you planning to do with your life?” That question became a turning point.
He joined Bharatiya Kala Kendra, and his Chhau training soon took him deep into the heart of rural Odisha, where he lived in a modest cottage—no fan, no cooler, just a single bulb, a mat on the floor, and the dance. “There was nothing else. Only the dance,” he recalled.
He played every role in the Ramayana—Sita, Ravan, Bharat, and even Surpanakha. The character of Ram didn’t come easily.
“At first, it felt like I was acting. It didn’t feel real,” he said. It was Singh who shifted everything. “Ram doesn’t get angry,” she told him. “He feels hurt. His silence is his strength.”
Singh initiated him into Tulsidas, Valmiki, and Adbhut Ramayan. Into the idea that Ram is not just a character but a state of being. Rehearsals often stretched until 2:30 a.m., and costumes weren’t handed out; they were made by the performers themselves. “Everything we have today—the discipline, the detailing—comes from those years.”
Trained by Pandit Birju Maharaj, Sharma learned how to speak through his body, grieve without tears, and smile without words. “Your eyes must tell the story,” Maharaj once told him.
During the performance, the audience smiles, leans forward, claps between scenes, fully immersed in the story they’ve seen a hundred times but still feel anew.
And even after it ends, the connection doesn’t fade. Ram remains on stage, still in costume, surrounded by people, waiting to speak to him. Children run to touch his feet, seeking blessings. Elders offer folded hands and praise.
Today, Rajkumar Sharma teaches at Bhartiya Kala Kendra, Kathak, Chhau, folk, and contemporary dance. He blends Ram through the full spectrum of Navras. “Ram needs all nine emotions,” Sharma said. “Only then is he complete.”
For Sharma, portraying Ram has become a disciplined way of life. His day begins at 3:30 am, followed by silent meditation before each performance. He eats only once a day and spends a few quiet minutes reading Hanuman Chalisa, avoiding all conversation before stepping on stage.
But long before Sharma wore the crown, another dancer carried its weight—Ravi Chauhan.
Chauhan arrived in 1988, young, energetic, armed with Kathak and Chhau training. He began with supporting roles—Lakshman, Jatrubhan—but by 1990, he had stepped into Ram’s sandals, a role he held for 12 years.
He even caught the attention of former Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee. “Atal ji was my biggest fan. He would regularly attend our performances and often invited me to his family functions. Vajpayee’s granddaughter, Neha, was also part of that world. “I used to attend Vajpayee’s granddaughter, Neha, dance classes. That connection made me feel like part of their extended family,” he said.
Chauhan’s departure from Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra was motivated by the reality unfolding backstage. ‘Salaries were modest, and resources scarce.’ As teachers and mentors gradually disappeared, so did the sense of direction. “You start to feel removed long before anyone actually removes you,” Chauhan said.
Eventually, he stepped away. But not from Ram.
He took up a post as a drama teacher at Delhi Public School, RK Puram, and launched his own production company, Shrimat Srijan Art and Culture. There, he reimagined the Ramayan—musically fresh, visually bold, and deeply personal. “My Ramayan is different,” he said. “Sometimes I feel it’s even more powerful than what we did at the Kendra.”
Today, Chauhan continues to teach, direct, choreograph—and tell the story that shaped his youth. One Ram still walks the stage in silence. The other built a Ramayan of his own.
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A living epic
Each year, before the lights come on, the RAM cast gathers for a quiet puja at Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra. Sweets are shared, incense curls through the air, and blessings are whispered.
Backstage, in the makeup room, faces lean into mirrors, hands steady with brushes and colour. Boys and girls transform in silence, into gods and demons, warriors, and queens. At a separate table, Sita prepares in stillness, tracing her kajal with slow, careful precision.
“We have to make our makeup a bit bold so that even the person sitting at the very back of the audience can see our expressions clearly. This is something Shobhaji taught us,” explained Anushka Chaudhary, performing as Sita for the first time.
What began as an artistic experiment when Sumitra Charat Ram first staged RAM at the Feroz Shah Kotla Grounds has, over decades, become a cherished annual ritual. For 67 uninterrupted years, generations have come together under open skies, drawn by this timeless story.
Yogendra Singh (55), who has been running a snacks shop outside Bhartiya Kala Kendra for over two decades, has been a regular visitor to the show.
“I have come to watch RAM many times, and every time it feels wonderful. I have often brought my family along as well. The tradition has been going on for years, and when the children prepare for the show, they often stop by my shop for tea,” he said.
Today, RAM has travelled across 35 countries, united Ramayan traditions from India to Southeast Asia, and performed at historic events including the inauguration of the Ayodhya Ram Mandir.
Nearly every Indian Prime Minister and President has watched the dance-drama. Among its most devoted admirers were Vajpayee and LK Advani, who never missed a chance to attend.
Its timeless power lies in the classical dance forms—Kathakali’s fire, Bharatanatyam’s precision, Kathak’s storytelling, Odissi’s grace, Chhau’s force, and even Kalariyapattu’s martial elegance, woven seamlessly with folk traditions from across the country. Hindustani ragas form the base of its music, while every gesture and movement helps bring the story and its values to life.
Shobha Deepak Singh, the force behind the production’s evolution, described it: “RAM is a cultural ritual that reminds us who we are and what we value. In a changing world, it offers continuity.”
At the heart of this production are artists like Shashidharan Nair, who have given their lives to the Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra. Originally from Kerala, Nair arrived in Delhi in 1972 with a strong base in South Indian dance but little exposure to North Indian forms. He left to train in Gwalior for nearly a decade, then returned to the Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra in 1981.
Though the production itself had already taken shape under the guidance of visionaries like choreographer Narendra Sharma and Guru Gopinath, it was continually evolving. The portrayal of Ravan, for example, still bears the unmistakable stamp of Kathakali, reflecting the South Indian influence early choreographers brought with them.
Nair has seen RAM through every season. He witnessed the shift when RAM, once staged in Sanskritised Hindi and rooted in classical ideals, was reimagined by Shobha Deepak Singh for modern audiences, without losing its spiritual core.
When Nair joined full-time, he was 40 years old, with no financial safety net or institutional support. It was Singh who gave him space to grow, first as a performer, then as a teacher and choreographer.
That idea of tradition sustained by vision is woven into the very foundation of the Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra.
It was Sumitra Charat Ram, the founder, who first envisioned a dance-drama Ramayan that could speak across class, language, and region. Her inspiration came, in part, from a conversation with Nehru, who encouraged her to create a production that brought the epic to life through the arts.
Her daughter, Shobha Deepak Singh, was a young girl then, too young to understand what was happening. “I used to accompany my mother,” she said. “Back then, I found it boring. I didn’t know what it meant.”
But things changed. The rhythm of rehearsals, the sound of the Ramcharitmanas being recited, it all seeped in. What started as an obligation for Singh became something deeper.
“At first, you see the Ramayana,” she said. “Then you feel something. And eventually, it becomes part of your system. Now, I can’t live without it.”
She had little support to keep going on this journey; her daughter moved to London, and with no family left in Delhi, artists became her community. “I can’t leave this. The artists are my people. This is my family. The Ramayana has a message, and someone has to carry it forward.”
After her mother’s death, she immersed herself in the very text her mother once read aloud—the Ramcharitmanas. “She tried to teach me. I didn’t understand it then. But now, I keep it beside me. I read it every night.”
Even now, decades later, she continues to find new meaning in its verses.
(Edited by Ratan Priya)