Rukmini Devi Arundale, Padma Subrahmanyam, Pandit Birju Maharaj, Mrinalini Sarabhai, Mallika Sarabhai, Yamini Krishnamurthy, Shobhana — the list goes on and on. Many dream to append their name to this illustrious line-up. By the way, what is that connecting thread of these names? Dance.
Till some time ago, dance, as a passion, had never found its way to my wish list or any of the lengthy bucket lists I had compiled. Yet, on a serene Sunday, amid a cascade of thoughts, a brochure about a dance class for working women and seniors commencing on Vijayadashami appeared before me, and within minutes, I found myself enrolled in the dance class.
Was it a miracle or magic? Uncertain. But, one thing was certain. I have become a dance student. My man standing beside me — curiously interested in the class schedule — seemed to be the most happiest person of that moment. I shall leave the reason to your imagination. Yet, a hint of worry crept in. I have orchestrated others’ movements to my tune, but now? Dancing to someone else’s tune was an unimaginable twist. Maybe that is what is called “Reap what you sow”.
