About 30 years ago my sister and I performed for a show in my college. I was almost 20 and she 15. I have never trained professionally. During my teenage days, it was a choice of either playing hockey or attending dance classes.
I chose the former as it was more fun to run free and wild in the field. Dribbling the hard, dangerous ball towards the goal post and the thud that followed every time i scored gave a fabulous feeling not worth exchanged with anything else in the world.
Yet, when in college someone requested that I perform a dance for a change. I was the college singer and perhaps people wanted to see me doing something else as it was my final year.
My sister had professional training. With her help and guidance we practiced the 'Shiva Thaandavam'.
I remember doing the same dance for about eight to ten times. There were temple shows. Deepavali shows and even in someone's birthday party.
Our costume was self modified. I tied an above ankle length saree. I remember borrowing my mother's saree. It was red. The blouse had to be adjusted as my mom was two size smaller than me.
My sister wore a yellow punjabi suit with tiger skin printed scarf wrapped around her. Our attire was quite amateurish. Yet, our performance was quite catchy. It was really lots of fun.
In years to come, dancing has always been a part of my life. As a teacher, dances were often practiced and performed. Choreography was done with self imagination and at times some copying was done from movies and other videos. We danced for fun in weddings and other office functions.
As time passed, after some heart wrenching experiences and bumpy life rides, dancing had almost disappeared from my life. Living meant work, managing children, paying bills and solving various daily life problems.
Perhaps if I said life turned into a disastrous nightmare, I could not be far wrong.My torture was self inflicted. I faced depressive disorders by indulging in prescribed drugs. It seemed to be the best superb answer.
I can easily blame circumstances, incidents and people around me for all my pain. At those moments, I was busy blaming everything that I could point my finger at. Change came suddenly but it did come.
Something out there had always looked out for me. I believe in God. As a Canossian Convent student for 13 years i know ' The Holy Mary and Hail Mary' by heart. During sick days, my Sister at the church always reassured me that St. Gabriel was just there watching out for me. I sang in the church choir.
As a singer in temple functions, I was well versed with my religion's puranas and vedhas.
My Malaysian heritage had also blended me with my Moslem friends to carry the 'Bunga Manggar' and walk along with them in the procession for Prophet Muhammad's birthday.
I had no battles whatsoever with any belief. I loved nature. The sun, the moon, the wind, the sea, the sky and the greenery around me always emitted wonderful energy to me.
Maybe those wonderful energies helped save me.
Soon i learned to evaluate the difference between pleasure and pain.
I listed all my pleasures. I started attending dance classes. Initially, it was only the Latin Beginner's class. I attained lessons in Rumba, Cha-cha, Jive and Samba.
I sang with the Indian Traditional drummers, 'The Urumi'. I remember raising that many eyebrows with my antiques. A lady in her late forties singing with Urumi boys? I did it anyway because it was a pleasure for me.
While singing, somehow there rose a yearning for the chimes of the anklet bells. The joy of jumping up, down, left and right with dance movements, was missed by something from within.
I signed up for the 'Bharatha Nattiyam' classes. I chose a centre very near my house. For convenience sake. When I approached my master, a man, he was a little perturbed with my age and my interest in this art. He was hesitant to start and told me to come back the following month as it was already mid January.
Later, when I called him, he did not answer my calls nor did he respond to my several messages. Little did he know, he had lost a good, passionate performer.
I googled for other dance schools. After a few failed attempts I found my master. A lady. I can genuinely say she had transformed my life.
Before every class, she taught me Yoga. With her insistence, I enrolled and completed a 'Kallaari Payattu' course. She taught me dance steps patiently.
While I picked up the basics, I pestered my sister to train the 'Shiva Thandavam' with me. After 30 years, it was not a piece of cake. Though, I still remember the moves, the hip screw inserted in my left femur was a constant challenge.
After arduous hours of training, the steps are finally taking shape. The dance is turning out well. Of course the costume is not going to be amateurish. With years of choreography experience we are in the midst of creating a dream, which will soon come true.
Life has taught me discipline and perseverance. With this I intend to dance for at least five years. People often question me on why I do what I do. Often I smile.
Deep down, I tell myself. These little pleasures that I indulge in are simply pacifiers to that big pain which lies within me.
I don't seriously believe that life should be lived with specific rules. But what I cannot oblige is to live life in a reckless way. Happy go lucky, come what may! Is definitely not my policy. I cannot step on other people's head just to fulfill my happiness. Worst of all, I am finding it very difficult to accept and digest selfish betrayal.
Although I am not the target of the insult I simply decided I cannot be an accomplice to any such conduct.
In deciding this, I sacrificed something very important. My strength is minimal, my courage is low but i am holding the fort. The gush in my heart is deep. Perhaps it will never heal. But I intend to dance away the pain slowly. Maybe time will cure me from this pain. Amen!
