It Will Evolve, But It Will Not Disappear: Fauzia Dastango on the Future of Dastangoi

Hyderabad: In an age of shrinking attention spans, endless scrolling and fifteen-second videos, Fauzia Dastango remains devoted to an art form built on patience. "Dastan means a long story and Goi means to tell," she says, when asked about the artform. "Dastangoi is the art of telling long stories."

Yet for India's first recognised female Dastango, preserving the centuries-old storytelling tradition is about far more than safeguarding a performance form. It is about preserving language, memory, culture and the deeply human need to gather around for stories.

"Dastangoi was first spoken and then written," she explains, tracing its origins to the legendary tales of Tilism-e-Hoshruba. "These stories were narrated on the spot. The storytellers were so capable that they could create worlds through words.”

For Fauzia, the magic of Dastangoi lies not merely in narrative but in rhythm and poetry. "Even when it isn't poetry, the script should feel poetic," she says. "The audience should feel the language." This philosophy has guided her efforts to bring Dastangoi into the present. While traditional performances were rooted in highly classical Urdu, Fauzia has worked to make the art form more accessible without diluting its essence.

"You don't always have to understand every word," she says. "If people leave saying, 'We didn't understand everything, but we loved it,' then we have succeeded in giving them its flavour.”

Over the years she has expanded the boundaries of the traditional scope of the artform, weaving stories around subjects as varied as the Mahabharata, Ramayana, Bollywood legends, even social concerns like mental health and rape. Yet she insists that the fundamentals remain unchanged.

"I have never left the basics behind," she says. "Script, language, poetry and rhythm, those stay.”

As conversations around the survival of traditional arts continue, Fauzia remains optimistic. "We keep saying people won't listen anymore because this is the age of reels," she says. "But I believe everything has its audience."

Drawing from her experiences performing in colleges and intimate gatherings, she points to a larger cultural shift. "Old things are returning in new forms," she says. "People are coming back to gatherings. People are doing shows in drawing rooms again, big concerts are also happening. I believe that there is an audience for everything nowadays.”

The influence of her upbringing in Purani Delhi runs through her work. Whether performing stories from the Mahabharata, Ramayana or documenting fading dialects, she credits her hometown for shaping her artistic vision.

"All the credit goes to Purani Delhi," she says. "The kind of personality it gave me, the kind of upbringing I received, that is present in my stories."

Her journey has also been one of breaking barriers. Entering a space traditionally dominated by men came with challenges, responsibilities and scrutiny. "This tag comes with a huge responsibility," she says of being recognised as India's first female Dastango. "Making your place in a male-dominated society was very difficult."

But she views obstacles with remarkable clarity.

"We should know that the path is difficult," she says. "There are only stones on this path. You have to decide how carefully you will walk over them."

Among her most cherished moments are not the grand performances in prestigious venues but the intimate encounters that follow. "When an elderly woman puts her hand on my head and says, 'Beta, khush raho,' those are my favourite moments," she says. "When someone tells me I reminded them of their childhood or old days, that's our job. We want to keep people connected to their roots."

There have been milestones, of course. Performing before literary giants such as Gulzar and Javed Akhtar remains unforgettable.

"When they appreciate your work, it matters a lot," she says. Yet her definition of success is far more personal. "I didn't follow any man. I didn't have a godfather," she says. "Whatever I did, I did on my own. Falling, getting up and learning."

Then comes the line that perhaps best captures both her humility and determination. "My father was a scooter mechanic," she says. "And a scooter mechanic's daughter shouldn't have such big dreams. But I saw dreams. And my dreams came true."

For Fauzia Dastango, storytelling is not merely performance. It is inheritance, resistance and remembrance. And as long as stories continue to find listeners, she believes Dastangoi will survive.

"It will evolve with time," she says. "But it will not disappear.”

(This article is written by Rocheta Chakraborty, a student of The English and Foreign Languages University, currently interning at Deccan Chronicle).