Here's to the beginning of dreams

I pick up this picture, and can’t help but reminisce. It nails the essence of those days -breezy and light - I was so sure I was going to be in a rock and roll band. Riding in a convertible (top down of course), my shades on.

Then again, I was sure I was going to be a lot of things.

The driver of an ice-cream truck. Come on, everyone has that dream. To get paid and work with unlimited supplies of Chocolate sundaes was the ultimate.

Outgrew that one, and then turned to Astronaut. NASA was sure to hire me based on my knowledge of the 9 planets. (Darn, they had to go and cut one off the list)

Would I grow up and become an actress? Sounded glam to me. Oh well……

A school teacher. I still remember wanting to outdo my Chemistry lecturer. I was sure I wouldn’t mispronounce the elements of the periodic table, like he did with a strange accent. Rational thought didn’t stretch far enough for me to realize I would actually need more than a cool accent and pronunciation.

A writer. With my poems about life, its means and ends (at least as much as I knew of), I knew fame was around the corner.

So I turned the corner (It’s been a while!) and Surprise! Not one of these things happened. Well, I still write, and I am involved in music, and I am a teacher. Somewhere along the way, a few starry notions fade away, ever so subtly.

Nevertheless, everyone has a different story about that one ambition that remains. It’s the one that sees its way into your heart in the most unexplainable manner.

The first time I sat through a Bharatanatyam performance, I was 6. My parents made it a point to attend every cultural program staged at Kuwait while we lived there. They always encouraged us to pursue our interests, regardless of the outcome. Learning in the process was a given!

To say I fell in love at first sight is an understatement. To say that I fell, and continue falling in love with dance, is more like it. Watching as masters of the craft choreographed themes that were way beyond cool was the equivalent of well, nothing else!

I didn’t take the rite of passage that so many others took – the arangetram. Instead, my teacher (God bless her!) spent hours nurturing my love for each graceful step. My parents drove me to the classes (more than an hour’s ride, with no malls nearby to take refuge in for the length of the class) as often as was required.

It’s hard to describe the magic of learning dance. Nostalgia takes you back to the sweat and toil and almost makes it look easy. I honestly can’t remember when my legs hurt or when I wanted to stop dancing and go home. (This is something I hear from some of my students!)

Dancing in my teen years was sheer joy. We laughed away the hours, discussing the strange heroes and heroines that we depicted, and dreamed of all the great dance dramas we could create. I distinctly remember having created a couple of short dance dramas with my cousin during the U.S. sojourns.

Stepping into the world of performing was like experiencing a whole new kind of ‘thrill’! I had presented dance pieces earlier, and if that felt magical, I had just stepped into the magician’s den. What else could explain that involuntary smile when you burst onto stage?

Somehow, I ventured into teaching and choreographing – yet another leg of my dance journey. Do I miss the earlier phases? Is my current phase enriched by the knowledge of the earlier?

All I know is that in the midst of all my capricious dreams, one hung around long enough to be acknowledged. It was and remains my truest and deepest source of ecstasy.

Not so far from being a rock and roll star, huh!