Both eastern and western, classical and contemporary. Sarah Frater profiles Akram Khan, a dancer for our times

Few predicted the rise of Akram Khan. He may now boast one of the best contacts books in contemporary dance - recent collaborators of his include Juliette Binoche, Antony Gormley, Anish Kapoor, Nitin Sawhney and Steve Reich - but until around this time last year he was a well-kept secret.

It was a chance encounter which began to change all that. "I was on a train in India and saw an old man die. I wanted to tell his story. To confess, in a way, or bear witness." The experience grew into Zero Degrees, Khan's ground-breaking duet with the Flemish-Moroccan dancer Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui. With sets by Gormley and music by Sawhney, the piece, which premièred last summer, established Khan's status as the most original choreographic voice of his generation.

If Zero Degrees won critical acclaim, this year Khan looks certain to bring his unique brand of contemporary dance fusion to vast new audiences. Sacred Monsters, his collaboration with the French ballerina Sylvie Guillem, opens at Sadler's Wells in London this month, and he has devised a new work for the Steve Reich 70th-birthday season at the Barbican. Kylie Minogue has also spotted his talents, asking Khan to help choreograph her comeback tour, Showgirl. "I've made a 20-minute section set in an Indian temple," he says. "Gods from Hindu mythology create Kylie. I wanted to do it to be in a world I didn't know. That is the challenge. That is where you find your voice."

It's a characteristically bold move for a dan cer who refuses to be pigeonholed. Khan was born in 1974 in Balham, south London, to parents of Bangladeshi origin. He started his training studying kathak, a highly specialised classical Indian dance form with virtuoso steps and spins, complex rhythms and lightning-fast footwork. "My mother thought it would provide a sense of ritual and discipline," he says. It is a tradition that differs in many important aspects from classical western dance. "Ballet has extension, kathak contraction. Ballet is light, kathak grounded. In kathak, the upper part of the body is fluid, in ballet the lower half. Ballet has expansive leaps, kathak not."

Kathak is also a tradition to which storytelling is central - a legacy that Khan has carried into works such as Zero Degrees. The form originated with kathakas, or professional storytellers, who passed their skill from generation to generation. Khatak dances often incorporate bols, or rhythmic words, which are recited as part of the performance. For his forthcoming collaboration with Guillem, Khan has encouraged her to incorporate speech into her choreography.

"I've always talked on stage," he says. "It's part of my kathak. Sylvie hasn't done so in the past - but she knows what to say."

Khan's innovation has been to combine the rigorous discipline of kathak with the looser moves of western contemporary dance. He is a stickler for technique - which is what polite people say when they mean "talent". "If you have it, you can let go," he says. "But if you don't, and you let go, you have nothing." A degree in the performing arts opened his eyes to the possibilities of contem porary dance's "non-perfection". "The classical [dance] world is utterly obsessed with perfection. But it also makes you inhuman," he says. He studied Lloyd Newson and Pina Bausch, two contemporary choreographers who he says "changed everything".

Throughout his career, Khan has maintained links with his kathak "guru", Sri Pratap Pawar. "It's a sacred relationship between teacher and pupil," he says. "Like father and son. A mentor, not just for the work, but life. When I went to university, it was unnerving because my teachers put me on a par with themselves. They asked me my opinions. With a guru, you always retain a distance, even as a grown man."

Just as his dance resists classification, Khan himself refuses to be defined by his background. He was brought up a Muslim, and has said that his spirituality is now a "pick and mix" of Muslim, Hindu and Christian influences. He is reluctant to discuss his personal religious beliefs, although a sense of religious tension is clearly a central theme of Sacred Monsters. "The world of classical dance is sacred," he says. "The aim is to represent God. But when you leave the clas sical world you become a monster. Sacred Monsters is about the truth. And the truth is that we are not perfect."

With two big premières approaching, Khan seems to be feeling the pressure. The choreo graphy for the Barbican show in particular has presented this consummate storyteller with a novel set of challenges. "When I met Steve [Reich], we talked about the 'abstract'. I don't believe in it, but Steve does. He wrote his score [for the Barbican season], and when I heard it I couldn't find the story. That's unusual for me. I always find the story in music. So the story was about not being able to find a story."

There is a sense, however, that this is Khan's moment - and that he has the talent and dedication to take full advantage of it. "I asked Sylvie [Guillem] why she wanted to work with me and she said: 'You have one foot in tradition, and one foot in the future - so you are now.'"

"Sacred Monsters" is at Sadler's Wells, London EC1, from 19-23 September. Tickets and details: 0870 737 7737 or www.sadlerswells.com.

"Rosas/Alston/Khan - Dance to Music by Steve Reich" is at the Barbican Centre, London EC2, 28-30 September. Details: www.barbican.org.uk

Kathak explained
Research by Mary Fitzgerald

The word kathak derives from katha, meaning "the art of storytelling". It is a narrative dance form characterised by fast rhythmic footwork set to complex time cycles, and is usually accompanied by percussion instruments such as the tabla and pakhawaj.

Kathak links Muslim and Hindu cultures. It originated in India as an expression of devotion to the Hindu gods, but gradually moved out of the temples and into the courts of both the Hindu maharajas and the Muslim nawabs, assimilating elements of both.

By the 15th and 16th centuries it was becoming a sophisticated chamber art. In the Mughal courts, its focus shifted from a purely religious ritual to entertainment, with lavish dance competitions held frequently.

After the mid-1800s it was proscribed by Victorian administrators, who deemed it a "base and unlovely form of entertainment", designed solely for the purpose of seduction. Needless to say, many of them still privately enjoyed it.

Kathak survived, and is now enjoying an international renaissance. Expressiveness, speed and power have reinvigorated its modern form, and it is growing in popularity across North America.

Choreographers and performers continue to collaborate and experiment with other traditions. The Chitresh Das Dance Company has brought back the practice of upaj (improvised composition) and its India Jazz Suites - a fusion of kathak with tap - was most recently featured at the 2006 American Dance Festival.

Kathak yoga is now just one of many contemporary spin-offs.

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