iDance

Originally posted on Facebook on April 10, 2009.

I am an enthusiast. I am an amateur. I like to express myself using my body because sometimes, there just aren’t the right words. This is what I call Dance. I watch others create stories and magic from their movements. This is also what I call Dance. I dance for myself, not for others. Not once have I danced on stage.

Most of the dance I do is improvised, learned through observation and imitation. For me, dance is always accompanied by music— on the CD or the instrument or in my head. I mould my movements to represent my thoughts, my unspoken words. Through dance, I make my own language. And you know what, people understand it. Everyone understands this wild, unstructured language with no syntax, no grammer, no rules. I am a dancer. I was born a dancer. I am a dancer to you? It doesn’t matter.

Bollywood, as crazy as it is, is powerful because of its integration of dance into the storytelling. Through Indian movies, I saw dance used to express emotions, describe events, and convey stories and social constructs. I saw the symbolic power of dance. That words can be translated to movement. That I could speak without speaking. That I can use my body to express excitement, joy, anger, and sadness. This is my dance. It is an expression of my thoughts, moods, and emotions— it is an expression of me. I express joy by stretching out my body completely until my toes tingle and my back cracks. When I feel free, I spread out my arms, turn my head towards the sky and close my eyes— I am a bird and I know no limits. I express excitement by jumping on alternate foot, moving my hips from side to side, and my hands up and down. I express confusion by spinning around in circles until I am dizzy. Also, just for the record, I find whirling Dervishes really cool.

I dance anywhere and everywhere except the stage. I have danced on sidewalks, at formals, in the middle of the road, in my room, in my bathroom, in car seats, and even in trees. As long as a place is relatively empty of people, I can dance in it. When my body isn’t dancing, my mind is. Dance is my indulgence, my guilty pleasure— something I wouldn’t mind going to Hell for.

I am a fuller person because I dance. Because of dance, I have a greater appreciation of music. Because of dance, I have a greater sensitivity to emotions. And because of dance, I have a relatively fit body despite my staple diet of grease. I couldn’t dance to save my life. But I sure could make a living as street performer that dances.

iDance, therefore I am.