When great gurus turn predators

Students are slowly opening up about sexual abuse at the hands of their famous mentors, and that is a good thing, writes Chinmayi Sripada

The cracks in the glorified guru-shishya parampara are showing signs of becoming chasms. And that is a good thing.

Last week, allegations of sexual misconduct by a dance maestro surfaced on Twitter and Instagram. In a long thread of tweets, a user condemned the dance fraternity for not calling out the predator.

For generations, narcissistic abuse by the guru has been tolerated in the name of tradition and discipline. And sexual abuse, coercion and sexual assault by gurus have always been swept under the carpet.

The power a guru wields over the ward is absolute. It is given by the ward’s parents; the shishya is ‘ceded’ to the guru, and the act is described by the powerful word ‘soumpna’ (handing over). Thereafter the ward has no agency. The parents cede theirs.

Many parents tell their children that the guru’s word is final and binding, establishing a power structure that can’t be questioned. As ‘tradition’ demands, this system functions at the behest of the guru. The ward staying in the house of the guru, washing clothes and doing the dishes, caring for the sick, and pressing the feet and forehead (‘guru seva’) are considered normal duties that come with guru bhakti. If the guru is religious, then preparing for the daily religious rituals becomes a part of the grind. Art education is only a small portion of your day.

I know of gurus in the Carnatic music tradition who have decided everything from what the students should wear, how the hair should look, what they should study, if they should study at all even if they are academically brilliant, who they should marry and when, how their conjugal lives should be conducted, and even going so far to dictate when and if they should have children. Students who agree to all this, so that they can continue to learn music, believe they are doing the right thing.

Multiple vidwans and enablers were named in 2018 in the #MeToo movement in Chennai, and yet, even three years on, there is no safe reporting space for students of Carnatic music. The audiences and the organisers continue to ignore survivors; some parents of survivors have supported the molesters and failed their children.

CAREspaces, an organisation in the US created by Carnatic music students, hopes to take the conversation forward, and to help create a safe space to report and heal.
Many who spoke up then had one thing in common — they had regular jobs to fall back on. Many had successful non-music careers and hence they could take a stand. What of those who can’t? Silence was the only way to survive.

More often than not, a student learning the classical arts is so immersed in the training that she really does not have a way out; she may not have the education or the skills to survive in any other career. And when your perpetrator is powerful, and whose tentacles of influence spread far into government, cinema and the artistic fraternity in India and abroad, what are your options?

Those who could, quit the arts. Practising the art again, after abuse by the guru, was too traumatic. Students usually introduced to this all-powerful guru, usually in their childhood or teenage years, are conditioned by what this guru says and does. They just may not have the perspective that what is happening to them is abuse. It takes years, as strange as it may seem to others, for them to realise what they were subjected to.

A ‘sadhak’ or a practitioner of the Indian classical arts is looked upon as a gifted, divine soul because of how the arts are connected with spirituality. Therefore even the audiences, especially when they see an artiste of legendary stature, fail to hold him accountable or even identify serious transgressions.

How long will it be before gurus are seen objectively, and not worshipped as gods? I wish I knew the answer. But I dare say the change has begun.

(The author is a well-known singer and voice actor based in Chennai)