What Dancing does to me

I discovered Dance quite late in my life. Never took it seriously during college performances. But three years ago, when I attended my first Contemporary dance class, unknowingly I started a journey. It began with body pain, cramps, scrapes, burns, and related family members. After every class I would feel like a war hero who just happened to survive the battlefield. A waging soldier desperately pushing the limits of her strength. A satisfying feeling of heroism slowly kicked in…

*fast forward to 2015*

Muscle Memory. Something I never knew existed, until my dance instructor told me about it.
Over the years, me and Dance have been engaging in an on-and-off celebrity-style relationship. What I found so magical was that every time I got back to it, we had a spark. What I couldn’t do earlier, I can do now. What I could do earlier, I now do it better. There is something so fascinating about this phenomenon.

In my entire life, only thrice have I given dance auditions. And all three times I have shamelessly lost. After each rejection, I go into a temporary mode of dejection. In this ultimate state of sanity, I make the most ground-breaking decisions. Quit dancing. Take up a new interest. Forgo the past.

Yet, there is a magnetic force that pulls me back to it each time I try to break-up. It could be how this Art amalgamates the best of all worlds. A fusion of music, movement, and expression. My hyper-active brain went on to crack more codes with acute self-analysis. The outcome was unnaturally simple – I dance, because it makes me Happy.

So if one or two people think I don’t make the cut, that’s fine with me. Because this is something I do for myself. Dance is my elixir of joy.

The wooden floor transforms,
A holy space is formed
Costumes and colours shine,
Devout as in a shrine
Spirits surround in high,
Surfacing in nervous sighs
Excitement fills the air,
As performers look debonair.

It all comes down to this
The months of preps
The move of hips
The look of lips.
Busy days and sleepless nights
Planning and practicing
It all comes down to this
Hours of toil to minutes on stage.

Names are announced,
Music is turned loud
My heartbeats race
The curtains rise
And then, the lights come on.

Showtime.
.