Why do I dance?

As I sit with my photo album, the memory box opens, bringing back all those countless, beautiful memories that I share with dance.

After learning dance for almost 16 years, I still haven’t found the reason why dance makes me happy. Is my happiness in the hours of practice that I put in till the wee hours of the morning? Or the tears in my grand-mom's eyes as she watches me perform? Or the moment when I finally can do a complex step? Is it in the endless hours of talks, conversations and sleepovers, studying for the exam with my friends from dance class, or in the taste of chocolates and lays, as we sit after a day’s practice? Is it the numerous performances (alone or in a group), in accolades and embarrassments, in the fear when I step on stage, or in the moment when I feel that I’ve actually fulfilled my need for self-actualisation! What is it that dance possesses that makes me happy?

As I look back, I realise how empty life would have been without dance. How completely boring, dull and life-less. Soul-less. To call dance my passion or hobby or profession would be to demean it. Dance is my friend when I need someone to talk to, a mirror that reflects my inner self. An advisor when I’m in a dilemma, a life in itself. A source of energy that can neither be created, nor destroyed. Something that is timeless, all-encompassing for me. A journey that helps me discover myself.

Everything is momentary. Everything changes. But I know one thing that doesn’t. The fact that dance will always be with me. In me. Till I die, and even after death. 

I owe so much to dance.