Drawn from our team’s raw journal entries across the year, these reflections trace Junoon as it was lived, from quieter moments of preparation to charged field milestones like the Dhasa-to-Bagol road trip. They capture the texture of the work as it unfolded: young leaders stepping into responsibility, discovering their strength, forming bonds that held under pressure, and learning to adapt to the rhythms of real life. What follows is Junoon in motion, honest, evolving, and deeply human, told in their own words.
Dear Readers,
This past year with Junoon has been something I didn’t even know I was searching for but deeply needed. What began as an opportunity slowly became a grounding force in my life. Somewhere between meetings, field visits, long conversations, and quiet moments of doubt, I discovered what truly matters to me: education that is alive. Education that changes lives, creates belonging, and becomes a powerful tool for both personal and social growth existing not in isolation, but within one nurturing ecosystem.
As a second-year BBA student, juggling college, deadlines, assignments, and Junoon was not always easy. There were days when timelines felt too tight, questions felt too big, and answers felt out of reach. But strangely, I felt more connected and alive than ever before. Because we were not just “working”—we were building something urgent and essential: a holistic, versatile approach to dance education that sees students as whole individuals.
Throughout the year, we consciously wore two hats—the observer and the imaginator. In observer mode, we looked closely at everything: every activity, every person, every reason that brought someone into the Junoon ecosystem. We studied the past, drawing strength from pioneers like Rukmini Devi and her quiet rebellion. We asked questions relentlessly—why this, why not that—until our thinking and our actions began to align. Often, the more we worked, the more confused we became. There were moments when we had to pause completely, close our eyes, and just think. And in those pauses, clarity slowly found us.
One of the most transformative moments for me was our visit to the rural establishment in Dhasa. Watching young girls dance there—raw, fearless, and deeply expressive—took me straight back to my own training and high school years. The learning environment felt familiar: holistic, immersive, and deeply focused on growth. That visit shifted something within me. It strengthened my belief that what we are creating is not just meaningful, it is necessary. We are not building Junoon for validation or applause, but for students who dream of becoming dancers, leaders, and thinkers in their own right.
Seeing the first generation of art leaders grow was another defining milestone. Their confidence, their achievements, and eventually their ability to lead others stood as quiet proof that our pedagogy was taking root. From being learners, they became leaders—planning sessions, guiding younger batches, and eventually stepping into the field as carriers of Junoon’s vision.
As a team, we then moved into imagination mode—still grounded, still honest, but brave enough to think ahead. We spoke about sustainability, business models, revenue streams, and what it truly means to grow as a self-reliant private initiative. This phase gave birth to so much: artistic residencies, our first structured workshops, the Gurukul and Urban Manifestos, and our first production, KAYA. None of this came easily. Every idea demanded hours of discussion, rewriting, rethinking, and rebuilding. The manifestos, especially, grew slowly—page by page, question by question, evolving from the Modern Gurukul to the Urban Manifesto, and still continuing to expand. We kept returning to our work, adding depth, refining thought, and striving for completeness.
Our December visit to Bagol marked another emotional peak. Watching our art leaders confidently share their journeys with rural students filled me with pride. The leadership jump was visible and powerful. Dhasa, now leading a whole new outreach, traveled kilometers away from home with the same warmth and enthusiasm she has always carried. Seeing them stand up, speak, and inspire reminded us why we started. They are now leaders who carry art forward—making it accessible, meaningful, and far-reaching.
Some of our best thinking happened in the simplest moments—sitting on the grass, eating watermelon, taking long walks, and listening to one another. Ideas didn’t arrive fully formed; they arrived gently. And instead of waiting for perfection, we acted. We tried, failed, noted, and rebuilt. We documented everything, created action steps, and trusted the process of gradual structure.
This year was not smooth or easy—but it was honest. It was full of confusion, effort, learning, and quiet transformation. I feel proud to be part of Junoon—to learn and work at the same time, to feel validated at every step, and to know that as a team, we are building something entirely new and previously nonexistent.
The year ahead feels hopeful. It promises courage, momentum, and creation. And I know this much for sure: we will keep moving forward, even when answers take time to arrive.
With Junoon, the journey continues—stronger, clearer, and deeply alive.
Yours,
Hemadevika
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