Media

The biggest day in a dancer’s life is the day she decides she’s going to be a dancer; The day she knows she’s going to need and want to dance for the rest and best of her life.

Junoon is here to deliver more dancers to their BIGGEST DAY.
Because it’s here. Its here. It’s so close. You can almost touch it.

Deciding to Dance is one of the biggest decisions anyone ever makes in their dancing life.
Heck, of course!
You’ve just choreographed the whole of the rest of your life!

You are born once.
The only other time you’re born is on your BIGGEST DAY.
Come, we’re taking you there.
Most classically…

To everyone out there, Junoon shall, Over time, Share the work of a year and a half in creating itself.
It shall, Over time, Make professional dancing an easy reality for many.

It is unique. It is strong. It is Classical.

And, it is what every dancer dreams of creating for their Art form.

We do not have enough support.
Art does not have enough support.
Were about to change that.
Well, at least we’re trying.

And you gotta get up and try and try and try.

Ask a dancer. She’ll tell you…

I am here.
More than I’ve ever been.
I am me.
More than I’ve ever been me.

Dance has made me dream.
Junoon has made me journey.

Into hearts that have moved with movement.
Into voices that have spoken with movement.
Into strength and togetherness that has been found through movement.

Rural India is brave, resilient and respectful.
And so, it can Dance.
Without pretense, without a care in the world, without taking itself too seriously, all the while serious about the Art form,
With grace, with heart, with simplicity and structure even amidst a storm.

When Classical Dance was delivered where it is barely found,
It flourished on faces, in bodies, amongst little ones who will one day grow up to do big things with it.

This was the largest, truest, most beautiful version of them.

These are smiles I had hitherto never seen.
Widened, brightened and occasioned by movement.

These are limbs that had never known how far they could stretch, how much they could strengthen and lengthen and hold and mould into shapes and lines waiting to be known and shown!

These are humans who are more present, more gracious, more grateful and therefore, more human, than any I have ever known.

There is a life where you can be larger, outside of yourself and yet looking so deeply within that you can’t be anything but true – to yourself and those around you.

Dancing is that life.

Classical Dance gives you a good, hard look inside.
And then you take a good, hard look into everything – lands, people, cultures.
And you soften and sharpen and a vision shapes itself.
You want to take it everywhere you can.
You want to carry that beauty into every corner you can.
And although it takes many more muscles than just the heart.
That is where you start.
That is where you start.

Junoon was always a journey – one that Dance can take you on.

I didn’t know when we began that I was heading home, all along.
But here, I am.
More than I’ve ever been.

Our Rural Outreach shall persevere in this heartland…
Our kids have a long journey to make with all the Junoon they have…

Something we completely forget to tell ourselves,
As dancers, as humans, as beings to whom movement is breath and life, is:
“Go Easy On Me”…
We can be our toughest task masters, our harshest critics, burdening ourselves big as beasts do, bending until we sometimes break.
And it’s not okay!

We choose to be this person too young, too raw, too soon.
It can drive us crazy: Our Purpose – basically a euphemism for Ambition, Greed, The Need for Approval, Appreciation and Attention.

We are so deeply stuck in a rut of hyper-frenetic movement that we don’t see how much of a trap it is.
It took Adele telling herself (and therefore me):
To feel the world around me,
For me to learn:

The breaks are as necessary as the constancy,
The freedom is as necessary as the grind,
Breaking free is as necessary as the rut.

You can only go deeper if you come up for air every now and then – never mind how shallow your existence may feel for a bit. You’re floating, so you don’t drown into dullness, fatigue and so that the Art doesn’t diminish and finish.

You’ve got to take the time,
To choose right,
To feel right,
To love yourself,
To love where you are,
To feel inside and outside.

And then, without you really realizing,
Art survives and revives inside you.
It exists in every space around you.

It doesn’t have to be so hard, so brutal, so stressful.
It’s a choice you made.
And it’s a good one, if you will let it be healthy and good for you.
The river is deep, the journey is long, the Art is huge and your best shot is always the next one that’s coming,
Whenever you’re ready, Whenever you’re ready,
“So, Go Easy On Me, Baby!”

– From Yourself to Yourself. Dancer to Dancer. Artiste to Artiste.

You have to create the space to let dreams breathe life.
It takes a while to build in your head, heart and for real.

You move more than you ever have,
With everything you have.

Casting off the clutter,
Keeping only the chaos that will carry you forward,
With more vigour despite the rigour.

The Space formulates around you Because movement is generative.

But movement is also specific. It is purposeful. It is precise.
Classical Dance is a grind.
Where poise is a faraway find.
And so, space takes its time.

And when it arrives, It will blow your mind.
It will still your mind.
And your body will float and fly, All the while, steady and supported.

The dream has the space.
The Space has the dream.

As dancers, dissatisfaction sits with us as often as darkness settles on Earth.
Which is every day, For a considerable measure of time.
Some phases are darker than others and they last longer.
And seasonal as it is, Winter can be hard to bear.

Your body isn’t tuning in as easily.
Your muscles aren’t feeling quite so fired up.
And then there’s that big bad word: Lethargy.
And if it happens to sit on your shoulder, it pretty much weighs all of you down.

By some stroke of luck though, the dissatisfaction overpowers the lethargy.
You are going a bit berserk in your head.
The bed is more glamorous than the Barre.
Sleep is more inviting than standing on your Dance Floor.
But the memory of that last session where you weren’t good enough or where you came away feeling like you could’ve been better, is a raw, agonizing, enduring pain.
So you slide clumsily off the covers, Realizing that you’re trying harder than you want to or possibly can.

You spend minutes, may be hours, trying to feel like yourself.
Trying to move the blood in your veins to muscles that feel numb – like they wouldn’t move for days if they didn’t need to.
Trying simply to stand up straight, grounded and with any luck, ready for flight.

And then, what comes out of that forced, onerous, terribly painful, totally taxing try is Movement with a clarity and purpose that was never before seen or felt.

A Dancer’s dissatisfaction is her most Classical cause.
When it’s getting too dark to bear, it is the only thing that will drag her out of bed as much as she wants to remain in it.

The outcome of the fight is indeterminable and probably cyclical.
There are days you will come through and days you will not.
But you learn to try.
The dark is here to stay.
But so is the light.

Dancers often move without a care in the world.
You are so lost in your own world, engulfed by the beauty of moving free and flowing like a river that you forget the river is human.

The body, your most precious instrument (your only instrument really), is as beautifully as it is miserably human.

It needs love. It needs care.
It needs regular, unwavering, unequivocal attention.
Else, the flow stands still.
And the dance hits a caesura.

This is also a time to look and really see, really feel how far your body has come, how far it can go.

If you took the time to care for it.
If you took the time to listen to it.

If you simply took some time…
To treat it right.

The care you give your body,
Sets it up for the dance ahead.

The dance ahead is more demanding than the dance that brought you to this point.
Will you bend or will you break?

Well, bend enough.
Bend right.
Bend as often as you need to.
And the dance squeezes right in.

Care.
Because you only move as well and as much as you care to care.
Your body will love you for it.
And it will dance for you.
Like you never imagined it would.

From the first to the second,
We have seen a shift.

Within a focused group of girls,
We have seen structure and focus,
Trickling seamlessly into their practice.

As trainers, we were worried what it would do to leave them to their own devices, for extended periods of time.
But you return and realize that children sometimes flower on their own; they progress; they innovate and come solidly through.

We have witnessed, first hand,
The beauty and predictability of hard work.
Our girls bear testimony to the wonders it can do.

With every return, more boundaries dissolve.
In the distance between them and us.
In the separation between them and Art.
The very need for a crossover dwindles, allowing the artiste in each of them to burgeon, naturally albeit with sincere endeavour.

Everytime we say goodbye, we worry, yes.
But the third will be no different, only better than even the second.

This Junoon is simply growing bigger in every little body and big heart we have come to know, to train, to turn into a Classical Dancer.

May our second coming lead the way for many others ahead.
May our girls persevere because they can!
We have seen it now, on Rural Outreach 2.0, more than ever!

This year is about breakthroughs.
Breaking the mould,
Breaking ground,
May be with your feet,
Sometimes with your mind, your vision, your passion,
Definitely with ALL of you.

Last year was about a start.
This year is about making a lasting impact.
We sleep and wake to and dream of movement,
Even when it scares, disgusts, tires, eludes and pressures us.
But when we move,
We change the world inside us,
And that has got to mean something for the world outside.

This year is about finally feeling alive,
After feeling quite done, down and out of your mind.
So, this is us,
Plunging into our depths,
Playing with our own fires,
And choosing to remain there.

Because only when we’ve dug deep enough,
Only we’ve felt the heat,
Can we plant something groundbreaking;
Can we breakthrough!

This year is about the JUNOON that emerges
From what has been simmering beneath the surface,
Waiting to explode, waiting to light up its surroundings, poised to break into the wild and wieldy dance that Classical Dance is.

It is not easy being a child who dances Classical Dance.
At a very young age, we experience hurt and hate of a kind that is not the lot or response of many young people.

The burden of everyday practice, preparation and conditioning is heavy, On bodies so tender, On bodies that haven’t hitherto experienced pain, pushing and repetitive performance to this extent, On bodies that are being told to perform functions in a way that is completely alien to anything they might have attempted before.

It is not easy being a child who dances Classical Dance.
At a very young age, we hurt in places we didn’t know our body was made up of.
It just aches. Everything aches.
And for some inexplicable reason, the only thing that eases the ache is going back and doing the same thing that made us ache in the first place.

Ah! We hate class, we hate the monotony, we hate the precision, we hate how perfect we have to be, We hate having to do fifty things to set ourselves up for that one thing that won’t last more than a few seconds.

We also hate it because it confuses us – we don’t know why we’re being put through so much.
Why does it have to hurt so much before we’re any good at it?
Why don’t we feel like waking up to it?
Why does it haunt us in our dreams?

It is not easy being a child who dances Classical Dance.
At a very young age, we want to run away from what we were enchanted by.
Class, practice, warm-ups, drills, routines, lines and length and bends and extensions are a collective disenchantment, to say the least.
We’re just being worked to the bone, literally.
Why then, are we here for it?

It’s changing something inside.
We can’t tell what it is.
It’s too new to describe, too subtle to see, a magnetic field drawing us to the walls and floor and mats of our dancing den.

It is not easy being a child who dances Classical Dance.
At a very young age, we also find within ourselves resolve, the staying power to stick around despite the hurt, despite the hatred we feel, despite the darkness of our dreams, despite the devil in the details of our dance.

It’s all ours, this devilish dance.
It will all be ours, eventually.
Because beyond all that hatred and hurt is a world we haven’t quite seen outside of our dreams.
It’s got to be that enchanted land where our pain transforms into the power to dance better than what drew us in – the stuff of dreams!

It always returns.
After the worst days at dance, A gentle upward curve of the lips, long suppressed and long awaited, Returns.

It pushes against all the bad days, Against all the backbreaking effort, Against all the burning joints and tired bones, Against muscles and memories stretched beyond bodily belief.

It gradually widens, revealing some white.
On faces that beam with a dancer’s delight.
The body’s learning to take what it wasn’t taking so well.
A movement absorbed, a transition made, a finish more correct than it’s ever been.

The smile is a knowing one.
But, what does it know?
That it’s always worse before it gets better.

Dance is a dream.
It’s also a nightmare.
For it won’t let you sleep soundly, Until you’ve done it well.

The pain is transient, It comes and goes as you try longer, harder and more often, A step, however, once swallowed, Shall forever flow.

It takes a while before you can rejoice as a Classical Dancer, But when you do, It’s like the Sun was only shining for you.

How could you look at these little Suns and not feel proud?!
They’ve reclaimed smiles that battled pain before they were found.
And you beam back at them, reflecting off their light, Whilst another dream is already being seen, For them to take on and fight to keep.

And the smile will always be saved, By those who dance their dreams, nevermind that they were at first, nightmares.
So, let the Sun glare before it shines, Our little dancing stars will burn to bring back light and gold from every dark mine.
Classical Dance, an art so fine, Is ultimately a crusade before you can keep the step and smile.

We must gather.
In order that we may be good enough,
For our kids when we return to them,
For the Art forms whenever we dance them,
For the tradition,
Because we carry it forward, upward and onward.

Gathering involves:
Collecting the parts of you that were strewn all over;
Putting them back together, piece by piece, so you are one – consolidated, disentangled, un-frayed and unafraid;
Practicing so hard, but so smart, that you are invigorated more than you are exhausted, that you are stronger, surer and exactly where you need be;
Feeling the music, like it was composed to generate movement inside you;
Feeling the music, so every step you put forth comes from that raw place of feeling;
Feeling the music, so you may respond with movement that corresponds to, complements and illustrates it;
Dancing, with intention;
Dancing, with precision;
Dancing, with complete immersion;
Dancing, with controlled abandon and insatiable hunger;
Dancing, like a river flows in you, unfailingly, until you have become the ocean.
Because only when you do, can it be deemed: Classical.

So, gather.
Because your dance depends on it.
Gather, because you depend on it.
Gather, to give.
Because the dance depends on it.

You cannot receive, you cannot be, you cannot give,
Unless you gather,
Until you are good enough,
To give off yourself, without diminishing, without running out, without reserve,
All you have gathered.

(These words were written to go with a poster (the artwork titled, ‘POSTER THREE’), created by Hitakshi Shah, available for sale on #TheJunoonShop on www.junoonart.com/shop . Purchase your poster today!)

Don’t mess with a Dancer.
Don’t challenge her with your drills.
Your workout is her warm-up.
Inside of a gym or an outdoor arena,
She does, in prep, what makes you go breathless.

The real work happens, as it always has, inside a studio.

Don’t mess with a Dancer.
Moving, to her, is second skin – a natural state.
And when she steps out of her studio,
Any field is her playground,
Any game is child’s play.

Because what happens in a studio,
Is what she got to,
After conquering everything outside.

So, don’t mess with a Dancer.
The only thing that does is The Dance itself.
Until it doesn’t.

Because a movement emerges from every mess.

(These words were written to go with a poster (the artwork titled, ‘POSTER TWO’), created by Hitakshi Shah, available for sale on #TheJunoonShop on www.junoonart.com/shop . Purchase your poster today!)

Practice.
It’s your prayer.
Such an elemental part of your routine,
You feel the heaviness of the void when you avoid it.

Practice.
This ritual is literally the reason you woke up.
The reason you will wake up tomorrow and the day after and the day after because you’re already on the hill you will die on.

Practice.
It comes so naturally, that if you didn’t, that would be unnatural.

Practice.
This way of worship is available to very few.
But if you do, you open up the channel to so many more.
It rubs off, creates ripples, produces wave after wave of movement that touch the shore more forcefully.
And the chain of prayer widens.

Practice.
It’s your prayer.
It can be another’s too. Many others’ as well.
If only, you would practice harder; stronger.
Even on the days it feels hard; even on the days you don’t feel so strong.

Practice.
Persistence is a version of prayer.
And even when it seems banal and boring and is dispassionately done,
It can all come true as you come through.

Practice.
It’s your prayer.
And you simply have to say it to survive.
You have to dance it to thrive.
You have to dance it to revive.
You have to dance it to arrive.

(These words were written to go with an art piece titled, ‘WORSHIP ON LOTUS’, created by Anishka Paraswani, available for sale on #TheJunoonShop on www.junoonart.com/shop . Purchase your artwork today!)

You know you’re dancing to make music visual.
It is your inspiration.
That you may translate into a vision.

And on your way,
You will meet many melodies, frequencies and trajectories.
To match these is your skill,
To feel these is your choice.

Movement does not simply fall into line,
Into the lines and depressions and curvatures of music,
You do have to bend and break before you become it.

But music is your becoming,
Of a feeling. Or many.
Tune in, reach in, extract, extract, extract,
Burn, heal, burn, heal,
Hear and falter.

And then, listen and gather.
And become the piece, with every piece of you.
A vision, a voice, inner and outer, to behold.
All soul, in surrender.
The music is moving, within you, without you, with you, through you, because of you.
It’s spectacular.

(These words were written to go with an art piece titled, ‘SITAR’, created by Aneri Sheth, available for sale on #TheJunoonShop on www.junoonart.com/shop . Purchase your artwork today!)

The trials that Classical Dance put you on wound but also wield you open.
Every little girl who dances has experienced this probation and its subsequent freedom.

We have lived through dance as much as we have died every day at it.

And so, we endeavour to try and test and cull the best from more and more little girls,
So they may experience the liberation that only Dance can bring you to.

It’s a very true journey and an irony, just as well.
One from strict, utter, pointed scrutiny to a free, flowing, open body and soul.
Where what confines, eventually emancipates.

We reach out to our girls,
They reach back,
Limbs outstretched, hearts open, smiles wide,
Turning pain into power.
Turning power into possibility.
Turning their possibilities into reality.
Their reality – freedom in movement and mind.

We teach, they learn.
And in their learnings, we learn how crucial it is to extend that freedom a little more, every day.

A freer world is one with many more girls dancing in it,
Despite the frontiers of Classical Dance.
Because the road to freedom is written into its structures and borders and instructions,
For they were only created to encourage and ensure flight.

(These words were written to go with a poster (the artwork titled, ‘POSTER NINE’), created by Hitakshi Shah, available for sale on #TheJunoonShop on www.junoonart.com/shop . Purchase your poster today!)

I couldn’t be more grateful to every force in nature for giving me the fitness, the privilege and the general wherewithal to make experiences like these come true.

It is daunting, every morning of every day, to wake up in the least of comforts, in the least favourable weather, and throw on a smile so you can put yourself and a bunch of kids in a torture chamber for the rest of the day.

It has never been easy building stamina, being good enough to dance and then in fact, dancing.

Here, in the village, living the very same day I would in the comfort of home, studio, controllable, familiar conditions, has felt like two, if not more.

Two weeks ago, I thought the Sun was a friend. Until I experienced what it can do to one, when you stand under it, on the cusp of a desert, at the height of summer, with hot winds blowing your brains out of whack and your body out of fluids, energy and impetus, nearly all day.
Until two weeks ago, I didn’t know of a thirst that lingers no matter how much fluid one consumes.
Until two weeks ago, I hadn’t cared too much what happens to animals – starved and parched – when dry earth simply cannot feed nor quench. They fall to the wayside, dehydrated and dead.

And amid all the darkness that the heat of the Sun metes out,
When you have the audacity to engage in physical activity for such treacherously long hours,
It helps to be a child, surrounded by children, who know better than anyone else how to be carefree and committed, all at once. They’re a paradox to aspire to!
Unbeknownst even to them, every time they showed up, they carried me through days I never dreamt I would or wanted to – through every running loop, dance warm-up, build up, variation or choreography.

The morning Sun, the afternoon Sun, the setting Sun, are sappers of different degrees, at different angles and intensities, and you come to learn which ones you can play along with and which one to leave the hell alone.

Over time, it doesn’t get easier. We only learn not to expect it to become easier. And that can certainly make you handle it better. And with any luck, enjoy it in several moments.

When I packed and locked up after our last training session today, I had a flash of fear – this kind of fitness could never come back; this level of endurance – that has taken years to build might be gone, in a flash; I may never choose to put myself through this again – now that I know what it takes.

And right then, the Moon came out to meet the light of the setting Sun. I surmise the meeting of both those times of day just wanted to say:
“A very crucial phase has ended. And it’s time to balance the heat of the grind with some chill time.”
For all those hours we’ve been rough on our bodies, we need a fraction to reset, simply and justly out of respect.
And when it begins to build again, may be the Sun will still be that nasty friend. And you’ll be armed to go at it again!

It has taken a village (literally) to come this far. I bet the same village won’t mind stretching a bit further to have me back. Historically, that’s what homes do!

The thing about Folk Dance is that it fills your heart. And lightens it, all at once.
Garba, to me, is both relieving and powerful.

There is strength and grace in its movement and yet, a sense of light-heartedness when one dances it. You have to spin and twirl and step and leap right and you’re set!

But you also have to emphasize every clap of the hand, every bend in the waist, every sway of the hips and every twist of your torso and have the legs to hold you out as you glide through it all, in circles, sitting and half-sitting and standing and flying where you must.

As with any Folk Dance though, you dance unrestrained, you dance your own version since the performance of every movement is a decision that is individual and intrinsic, straight from the heart.

Garba and Raas came from the heartland of Gujarat and the white sands of the Rann of Kutch where women danced the Art form to liberate themselves. That is the virtue of Dance – Liberation.

This dance form in particular makes women feel more feminine, men more masculine and children are entranced by the joy and freedom and fun that comes from all its movements. It is graceful, energetic, flirtatious and full! Mythologically, it is where Krishna both came closer to and repelled Radha and thereby, fanned the flames of an eternal love story!

When you dance Garba, in Gujarat, in the very place it was born and bred, the feeling is fuller and simply more felt. An exhilaration permeates the entire ambience of this rural heartland named Dhasa and you are drawn to be a part of it and twirl and twirl till your heart pretty much bursts with bliss!

From the near-end of the nine nights of Navaratri and an additional night of play (because we couldn’t get enough of and let the festival go), I’m taking away some glorious visuals of smiles like I’ve never seen before; of women and girls so prettily clad in colourful regalia you can’t take your eyes off them; of men dancing so swiftly and so strong you wonder how they’re keeping up amongst themselves, with every beat, right on time; of children who dance without a care in the world and you begin to dream to dance with the same abandon; of a celebration in circles in every nook and cranny of the village because this good thing which involves dancing for nine nights (and sometimes, another one!) to a Warrior Goddess must be perpetuated with all the fervour in the world.

Because that is JUNOON right there, right here, in Dhasa, with Garba, for Garba – a love of it – within us all, so we may dance finely, with a fire, for fun!

And then, feel full.
Like only a Folk Dance can make you.

At Junoon, we’re fighting.
It’s a very different crusade, yes.
A war for the love of Art.

We’re fighting inside ourselves, with ourselves, to get better at our Art.
We’re fighting to put it out there, for the world to behold, because it’s worth it.
And then, we’re fighting to pass it onto many more, who will carry our Junoon, as their own, because Art needs many more champions, practitioners, performers and crusaders.

Right now, we’re a little battle weary.
We’re told it’s natural, given how far we’ve come, this fast.
Speed has its consequences.
Ambition has consequences.
Change doesn’t come easy and neither is sustaining what has changed.
You can’t possibly go full throttle, unencumbered, incessantly.
And every now and then, we have to recalibrate the battle strategy.
Or simply restore, refill and rearm to re-blaze.
Stoke and tend to the fire within.
So, it can spread like wildfire.

ABut we know we’re battling so nobody will have to after us. Or so we hope.
And so we persist.
Whether weary, worn or wondering if we have any more to give, We do.
Because our biggest breakthrough will come from this fatigue, the fight simmering inside, the Dance growing within, to give more, all over again.

We can feel it on our strengthening Dance.
And we can feel just what our heightened Dance will do:
Move mountains that first need standing up to.
Well, if we’re stuck with a Junoon for a lifetime, we may as well battle like only we can – fallen, risen and fighting no matter what it takes.

Because what it will take is everything we have and don’t and what we’re willing to go far to gain, to give.

For even Tigresses must take their time and prepare before they have marked their territories – those where Art will flourish forever.

The fight takes ferocity, amid seeming calm even.

Art is hard.
As much as it makes us traverse depths of feeling and heights of potential like no other,
Even as it plants or elicits a perceptivity that not many other vocations could,
As openly vulnerable and innately strong as it requires us to be,
It is wired to turn us cold, dark, bitter and to make us too often feel the hopelessness of not moving forward.
It is wired to break you and bruise you forever.
It is wired to turn our softest corners to stone as we try too hard to become the Art and sculpt ourselves into the perfect mould.

But when you’re wounded and scarred and in the darkest abyss you’ve known so far, something deeply good could happen:
You soften.

And what if you just decide to push against the tide that is insisting you harden? What if you decide to soften, to be more human with yourself and those around you? What if you decide to simply be good rather than trying so hard to be great?

What if you look at the smile of a child and their mistakes and yours (some the same as were yours) and laugh it off and brush it off and let some light into your cells? What if you remember what it was like to start when you let Art in like a snug toy that simply fit?
What if you just remembered to relax?
You soften, you’ve suddenly changed the tide and you flow with it, the furrow on your brow turns to an upward curve on your lips.
And with a light in your eye, you soften.

Art is hard.
But you don’t have to be.
Especially because it is.
Especially because you are not.

And suddenly, what you’re out there to do is crisper, more charming, more pleasing, more settled.
Because, although the Art is hard, you decided to soften.