Divine Inspiration

This year, Kuala Lumpur's Temple of Fine Arts (TFA) — the largely volunteer group that has been inspiring local children of the Indian diaspora to take pride in their motherland's artistic traditions — will officially inaugurate a five-story tower block in the planning for well over two decades. Since its foundation in 1981, the TFA has been the largest cultural force among the derelict apartment blocks and small businesses of Brickfields, K.L.'s Indian district. Its new center is set to become the most tangible cultural achievement yet of the estimated 2 million Indians whose ancestors went to Malaysia mostly as indentured laborers.

This comes at a time of increased ferment, with Malaysia's ethnic-based power-sharing in flux and Indian lawyers having braved water cannons to protest discrimination. While hardly political, the Temple has tackled gangs, drug use and crime born of low self-esteem, one young person — and one tabla beat — at a time. Hundreds crowd the classes, which are still held in the old building day and night. The new space will be welcome.

"Not only do we make sure these children have meaningful activity," says chief dance instructor Thavamalar Gunaratnam, "but we connect them to the wealth of Indian traditions." Students pay roughly $14 a month, if they can, to master everything from ritualized Odissi to Bollywood dance — and stage frequent public shows.

Followers give the credit to Swami Shantanand Saraswathi, the "mobile monk" as some call him, who went to Malaysia in 1971 on a spiritual calling and, finding master musicians and dancers among his new devotees, turned his life's work into becoming an impresario — eventually creating Temples of Fine Arts in Singapore, Australia, India and Sri Lanka as well. The swami died in 2005, long before the fruition of his work in K.L., which when fully operational will comprise a 600-seat auditorium, an art gallery, seven dance studios, 12 music rooms and more.

The point of the Temple isn't to produce élite performers. Typical of its users is Subbaraman Saravanan, whose eyes flash like some strutting prince as he practices a dance to Lord Shiva. After more than 10 years of classes, he is working furiously toward graduation — even though his day job is that of aircraft mechanic for Malaysia Airlines. "When I dance I am seeing God," he says. "I can carry this knowledge with me to the airport or anywhere."

The Temple eventually wants to hold outdoor performances and picnics at the back of the building, where the Klang River runs. Outsiders may see nothing but a grubby concrete gully there, but the Brickfields community sees a far richer place. As Gunaratnam says, "Swami called this our River Ganges."