ARUNIMA KUMAR ON HER KUCHIPUDI JOURNEY AND LARGE-SCALE FESTIVAL
by ASJAD NAZIR
An International Kuchipudi Dance Festival starts at The Bhavan Centre in London on November 16.
The largest showcase of Kuchipudi in Britain is an inter-generational festival with over 100 performers aged between 4 to 65 years presenting the classical Indian dance form in all its glory. The entire festival is masterminded by award-winning dancer, teacher and choreographer Arunima Kumar. It is the latest chapter in a remarkable artistic journey that stretches back to her childhood when as a two-year-old she would dance whilst her grandmothers sang to her.
Eastern Eye caught up with leading British dance figure Arunima Kumar to find out more about her journey and the International Kuchipudi Dance Festival.
How did your dance journey begin?
My dance journey began at five when my mother saw a dance performance and enrolled me in a Kuchipudi class. What I learned really fascinated me. Initially, it was a hobby as I wanted to study and work. I studied finance and worked in the corporate sector in senior positions. I loved my job, but something was always missing. So I decided to take a break to dance and never went back.
Which of your dance projects has given you the greatest joy?
Each performance has taught and inspired me. I have performed in over 60 countries with over 2,000 shows at various venues, including the Sydney Opera house, Trafalgar Square, Parliament, The Rio Festival, hospitals in UK and prisons in India. I never considered any space big or small. Each space is sacred! If I had to choose one, choreographing and performing at Buckingham Palace for The UK India Year of Culture was a huge honour and responsibility.
Tell us more?
That experience taught me a lot as there was no room for error. I put faith in my art and had an amazing team to create my piece EKAM, which reflected unity in diversity. We worked hard on each aspect, and it was my biggest moment. We went on that red carpet and the beauty of Indian art and heritage came alive. I will never forget that proud moment.
Tell us about the International Kuchipudi Dance Festival?
It is the third edition, and this year we plan to make it one of the largest festivals of Indian classical dance in Britain, with over 100 inter-generational dancers, ranging from my students and artists from Arunima Kumar Dance Company to acclaimed guest artists such as Bhagya Lakshmi Thyagarajan and Meenakshi Ravi. We are thankful to all those, including The Bhavan and Arts Council England, for their support.
What has been the biggest challenge of putting it together?
This year’s festival is targeting 100 dancers! I always aim for the impossible and stay alive by living my dreams. The multiple challenges in curating the festival include organising multiple rehearsals, raising funds, monitoring costs effectively and ensuring highest standards. It’s a mammoth task. It is still challenging promoting Indian arts, including to the Indian community.
Is there one highlight you are looking forward to?
I am looking forward to our new work Avatara, which is an inclusive work supported by the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea Arts. It is a collaboration between Arunima Kumar Dance Company Kuchipudi Dancers and Latin/Ballroom dancers on wheelchairs from Step Change Studios, which is an award-winning inclusive dance company. The contrasting forms have come together to tell an Indian mythological epic in an abstract form and has music by Niraj Chag.
You have done diverse work, including global performance, education, outreach, dance therapy, giving a platform to young artists and bringing Kuchipudi to the forefront, but what’s the secret of a great performance?
A great performance to me is when I give my best and feel the spiritual connection with my audience and they take back an experience they remember. Comments such as, “I left drugs after I saw your performance”, “I promise to learn and teach my kids dance as it made me so happy” and “God bless you and your strength” are jewels of appreciation I take with me, which money can’t buy.
What inspires you as an artist?
I’m inspired when I see legends at work – their vision, attention to detail, hard work and focus on every movement. I’m inspired by their resilience and ability to share. My gurus and mentors Akram Khan, Shobana Jeyasingh and Donald Hutera have all inspired me in many ways. I’m also inspired by children in their innocence in movement, as it’s very pure. That’s why I love teaching and am keeping the legacy going.
Why do you love dance?
I love dance because it gives me strength, peace and happiness. Dance is my home, my prayer, a best friend that has stayed loyal to me. Dance has shown me history, taken me to places I would not even dream of and given me friends globally. I’m not lonely even when no one is around me! It has taught me humility, spirituality, and the values of sacrifice and hard work. Dance makes me human! I don’t need to earn loads of money or get that promotion to be happy. I have it right here. It has given me the means to heal, educate, impact and shape a better world.
What Arunima Kumar’s students have to say
Jia: Arunima Kumar is the best guru I have, as she teaches with passion and wants us to be perfect. “Practice every day” are her favourite words.
Neeti: Ms Arunima Kumar makes it a joy to learn Kuchipudi. We learn about our tradition and work hard on the dance steps/postures again and again till we get it right.
Kornelya: Arunima Kumar Ji is the best teacher, guru and role model. She inspires me with her determination, talent, open mind and generosity. She taught me to never give up and inspires me to learn Kuchipudi with no excuses. She proves that everything is possible.
www.arunimakumar.com
Did you know?
Kuchipudi originates from Andhra Pradesh and is the only dance form that is named after a village in India, Kuchipudi/Kuchelapuram. It was gifted to villagers by the Nawab who saw a beautiful Kuchipudi performance and was happy with it. The tradition lives on today where the villagers still practice, perform and teach.
It was originally performed by male Brahmins and has a dance-drama tradition. It evolved into a solo style and is performed by many female artists now.
Stree vesham, where a man dresses up and performs as a woman has been a popular and relevant feature of this form.
It originated during the Bhakti movement and many original pieces are based on this theme of spirituality and devotion.
It is a beautiful rhythmic form of Indian dance, buoyant in nature with fluid torso movements, fast footwork and sculpturesque postures.
Jay's grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere.
Ditched the influencer route and began posting hilarious videos online.
Available in Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free
Jayspent 18 months on a list. Thousands of names. Influencers with follower counts that looked like phone numbers. He was going to launch his grandmother's popcorn the right way: send free bags, wait for posts, pray for traction. That's the playbook, right? That's what you do when you're a nobody selling something nobody asked for.
Then one interaction made him snap. The entitlement. The self-importance. The way some food blogger treated his family's recipe like a favour they were doing him. He looked at his spreadsheet. Closed it. Picked up his phone and decided to burn it all down.
Now he makes videos mocking the same people he was going to beg for help. Influencers weeping over the wrong luxury car. Creators demanding payment for chewing food on camera. Someone having a breakdown about ice cubes. And guess what? The internet ate it up. His popcorn keeps selling out. And from Gujarat, his grandmother's 60-year-old recipe is now moving units because her grandson got mad enough to be funny about it.
Jay’s grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere Instagram/daadisnacks
The kitchen story
Daadi means grandmother in Hindi. Jay's daadi came to America from Gujarat decades ago. Every weekend, she made popcorn with the spices she grew up with, including cardamom, cinnamon, and chilli mixes. It was her way of keeping home close while living somewhere that didn't taste like it.
Jay wanted that in stores. Wanted brown faces in the snack aisle. It didn’t happen overnight. It took a couple of years to get from a family recipe to something they could actually sell. Everyone pitched in, including his grandmom, uncle, mum. The spices come from small local farmers. There are just two flavours for now, Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala. It’s all vegan and gluten-free, packed in bright bags that instantly feel South Asian.
The videos don't look like marketing. They look like someone venting at 11 PM after scrolling too long. He nails the nasal influencer voice. The fake sympathy. “I can’t believe this,” he says in that exaggerated influencer tone, “they gave me the cheaper car, only eighty grand instead of one-twenty.” That clip alone blew up, pulling in close to nine million views.
Most people don't know they're watching a snack brand. They think it's social commentary. Jay never calls himself an influencer. He says he’s a creator, period. There’s a difference, and he makes sure people know it. His TikTok has around three hundred thousand followers, Instagram about half that. The comments read like a sigh of relief, people fed up with fake polish, finally hearing someone say what everyone else was thinking.
This fits into something called deinfluencing; people pushing back against the buy-everything-trust-nobody cycle. But Jay's version has teeth. He's naming names, calling out the economics. Big venture money flows to chains with good lighting. Family businesses with actual stories get ignored because their content isn't slick enough.
Jay watched his New York neighbourhood change. Chains moved in. Influencers posted about places that had funding and were aesthetic. The old spots, the family ones, got left behind. His videos are about that gap. The erosion of local culture by money and aesthetics.
"Big chains and VC-funded businesses are promoted at the expense of local ones," he said. His content doesn't just roast influencers. It promotes other small food makers who can't afford to play the game. He positions Daadi as a defender of something real against something plastic.
And it's working. Not just philosophically. Financially. The videos drive traffic. People click through, try the popcorn, come back. The company can't keep stock. That's the proof.
Daadi popcorn features authentic Gujarat flavours like Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free Daadi Snacks
The blowback
People unfollow because they think he's too harsh. Jay's take: "I would argue I need to be meaner."
In May, he posted that he's not chasing content creation money like most people at his follower count. "I post to speak my mind and help my family's snack biz." That's a different model. Most brands pay influencers to make everything look perfect. They chase viral polish, and Jay does the opposite. In fact, he weaponises rawness and treats criticism like a product feature.
The internet mostly backs him. Reddit threads light up with support. One commenter was "toxic influencers choking on their matcha lattes searching their Balenciaga bags." Another: "Influencers are boring and unoriginal and can get bent." The anger is shared. Jay simply gave it a microphone and a snack to buy.
Jay's success says something about where things are going. People are done with curated perfection. They can smell the artificiality now. They respond to brands that feel like humans rather than committees. Daadi doesn't sell aspiration. Doesn't sell a lifestyle. Sells popcorn and a point of view.
The quality matters, including the spices, the sourcing, and the family behind it. But the edge matters too. He’s not afraid to say what most brands tiptoe around. “We just show who we are,” Jay says. “No pretending, no gloss. People can feel that and that’s when they reach for the popcorn.”
Most small businesses can't afford to play the traditional game. Can't pay influencers. Can't hire agencies. Can't fake their way into feeds. Maybe they don't need to. Maybe honesty and humour can cut through if they're sharp enough. If the product backs it up. If the story is real and the person telling it isn't trying to sound like a PR script.
This started with a list Jay didn't use. The business took off the moment he stopped trying to play by the usual rules and started speaking his mind. Turns out, honesty sells. And yes, the popcorn really does taste good.
Daadi Snacks merch dropInstagram/daadisnacks
The question is whether this scales. Whether other small businesses watch this and realise they don't need to beg for attention from people who don't care. Right now, Daadi keeps selling out. People keep watching. The grandmother's recipe that was supposed to need influencer approval is doing fine without it. Better than fine. Turns out the most effective marketing strategy might just be giving a damn and not being afraid to show it.
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