Estimated reading time: 8 minutes
Mehfil
Inside a century-old church in San Francisco, ghungroos echoed in sync with stiletto heels as dancers took the stage in lacy outfits — some pairing facial hair with feminine grace, defying conventional ideas of who gets to embody what gender.
In true Mehfil fashion, the atmosphere was intimate, and audience members lounged on floor cushions or sank into sofas, while the church altar transformed into a stage.
Saumi Mehta traveled from San Jose with her mother and sister to attend the event.
“I used to do Bharatanatyam growing up, and I’m just curious to see how people use it in this space to tell a message,” she said.
Héctor Jaime, artistic director of the Xochipilli Dance Company, came to witness cultural similarities between South Asian and Mexican dance.
“There’s a whole mirror … a two-way street from Mexico and India that I find really fascinating,” they said.
On June 14, the Ishami Dance Company premiered “Mehfil: A Desi Cabaret” at the historic Melody Church. This one-night-only immersive performance fused Indian classical dance, queer club culture, cabaret aesthetics, and diasporic storytelling.
Led by Ishami co-founders Amit Patel and Ishika Seth, Mehfil was part celebration, part confrontation — a powerful embodiment of Pride Month.
“A lot of the work we do is pretty heavy,” said Seth. “We wanted to keep those threads of identity and belonging, but root ourselves more in joy.”
Choreographer and performer Akhil Joondeph underscored the urgency of the show’s themes.
“Presenting work that’s outspokenly queer and Desi right now is a big deal,” he said. “This stuff is being actively silenced, both in India and America.”
For many in the audience, Mehfil was their first time experiencing an event like this.
Saumi’s sister, Devanshi Mehta, was excited to be privy to such an intersectional space.
“A Desi cabaret is something that has truly never happened,” she said. “Even walking into the space, it’s incredible … to have it happen in San Francisco is really special to me.”
Their mother, Rupali Mehta, a classical singer, said she wasn’t sure what to expect, and it was her first interactive dance show.
“Dancers are dancing, showing their talents, and it’s beautiful,” she said about the pre-show.
However, she mentioned that the queer elements were new to her: “I have not grown up like that … I am open to learning and I am open to acceptance.”
Both Saumi and Devanshi were curious how their mother, unfamiliar with such performances, would respond.
Reimagining the Mehfil
Traditionally, a mehfil was a gathering — often centered around courtesans, musicians, and poets — where sensuality met opulence. Ishami’s reimagining challenged boundaries of gender, genre, and propriety.
“We wanted to delve into the world where you see things like mehfils from older times … and how they have interesting parallels to queer club culture and drag,” said Patel, who choreographed and danced in a number of the songs. “How can we also combine all the different dance forms — from jazz and heels to Kathak and contemporary — and break the hierarchy within dance?”
The performance included drag, confessional booths, interactive vignettes, and genre-bending movement pieces.
“You can’t think about devadasis without thinking about item girls and sexual transgression in the Bollywood space,” said Joondeph. “And you can’t separate that from queerness or gender expression.”
From transgression to transformation
The decision to stage Mehfil in a church wasn’t incidental — it was a confrontation of religious oppression. Dancers appeared from between the audience, beginning the show with a Phoolon ki Chadar procession between the aisles of the seats. Each performance pushed against cultural binaries—male and female, sacred and risqué, classical and pop.
Several standout pieces emerged throughout the evening.
Joondeph delivered an Indian classical dance-inspired piece from “Devdas.” Rather than drawing from Kathak, the style traditionally associated with the song, he infused it with his Odissi training. His movements were refined, intentional, and elegant.
In “Aayat,” Patel brought the emotional nuance of “Bajirao Mastani” to life through a semi-classical Kathak solo — expressive, restrained, and full of delicate gestures. Both Joondeph and Patel showcased the versatility and emotional range of classical Indian forms when reimagined in contemporary contexts.
“Cozy” — a dynamic fusion of Bharatanatyam, Odissi, Jazz, Vogue, and Waacking set to Beyoncé beats — was performed by Joondeph, Patel, Seth, Kanchan Raju, and Shraesht Chitkara. Adorned in bustiers and glitzy jewelry, this piece was most emblematic of cabaret aesthetics and felt particularly inventive.
Sarmistha Satpathy, who is originally from Odisha, was moved by the piece,
“It was very sincere,” she said. “I don’t know how it’s going to be seen in general with the world being what it is right now — it was almost emotional.”
A remixed version of Kehlani’s “Sucia” — performed by Joondeph, Patel, and Chitkara — was both conceptually powerful and visually striking. The trio entered with their faces veiled in dupattas, dressed in lace and heels, with ghungroos fastened to their ankles, evoking the fear of living openly. As the piece progressed, their movements softened and became more sensual, embodying vulnerability and self-expression. Though Patel is known for pioneering the BollyHeels genre, the pairing of ghungroos with heels felt more symbolic than rhythmically integrated.
Batra’s performance of “Tilasmi Bahein” from “Heeramandi” transported the audience into a smoky, filmy bar scene. Her character — tipsy, uninhibited, and unapologetically sexy — did a contemporary, Kathak-infused dance with a joyous, empowered sensuality that was captivating.
Some mid-show pieces, like “Parde Mein Rehne Do,” could have used more polish, while others like “Sylvia” — a dance number where men were fighting for one woman’s affection — felt slightly out of step with the rest of the show’s tone.
Drag queen Bhindi Masala provided lively interludes, bringing humor and flair. And the final number, “Boom Boom,” offered a high-energy conclusion with a disco-era feel.
For audience members like Satpathy’s husband Om Chindananda, the gender-bending and mixing of styles felt organic.
“[The show] felt very natural in their presentation,” he said.
After the show, Rupali Mehta shared her thoughts: “It just resonated with the old Hindi films, especially Helen and Aruna Irani dancing around in cabaret dances.”
Sanjay Radia, father of performer Akshay Radia, also saw parallels with his past.
“I’ve seen cabarets before because I used to live in Paris,” he said. “I think it gets people who are not in the community to become aware and to realize we are all human beings.”
For him, his son’s contemporary dance to the sufi song “Khuda Jaane” by singer Abdurrehman Huzaifi — which featured a nazm or ghalzal as the titular part of the mehfil — brought home the point of the show.
“What I got was that God knows how he’s made you,” Radia said. “It fit with the theme.”
The piece — and the evening as a whole — offered a layered reflection on identity, acceptance, and the power of simply being seen.
“We are the only ones who kind of dig into the fantasy of the mystic existence of the human being,” Jaime said. “It’s really special to see [Amit Patel] in their fullest form.”
During the post-show question-and-answer session, audience member Sandeep Sawai, visiting from India, was thrilled by the prospect of the show being seen by others.
“This one needs to go all over the country and the world,” Sawai said. “What do we need to do to make that happen?”
Making of Mehfil
The road to Mehfil was anything but short.
Patel and Seth spent two years developing the show. A short piece from a previous production, Pehchaan, became the seed for Mehfil, which grew into a full-length cabaret thanks to grant funding.
“We’re taught there’s a ‘right’ way to do [dance],” Patel said. “But Mehfil intentionally puts classical next to street, heels next to ghungroos. It reflects who we are as dancers and as people.”
That included everything from jazz, Kathak, and Bharatanatyam to voguing, hip-hop, and drag. And in keeping with Mehfil’s themes of sensuality and subversion, Seth found herself playing roles she hadn’t before.
“As the oldest dancer in the company, it’s a little terrifying and a lot exciting,” she said. “I had a solo that’s overtly sensual — and it feels good to explore that part of myself now.”
While the production was dazzling on the surface — with embroidered anarkalis, elaborate jewelry, and moody lighting — the process behind it was far from glamorous. Patel and Seth handled nearly everything themselves: social media, costume design, grant applications, and even troubleshooting ticketing issues.
“We don’t have a full-time admin team,” Seth said. “It’s just us, and sometimes Akhil, juggling everything behind the scenes.”
Despite receiving a $20,000 grant, the production barely broke even after months of rehearsals, custom costumes, and venue rentals. Yet for Ishami, Mehfil was worth every ounce of labor.
“It’s a very sexy show,” Seth said. “But it’s so much more than that — It takes courage to put something like this onstage.”