Learning to Travel Alone: When Commitment Turned into Independence
Some journeys are not measured by distance, but by the courage it takes to walk them alone.
When my dance results were announced, all the effort, fear, and faith finally found their reward. I passed with flying colors and stood first in my class. It was a moment of encouragement for me and a deeply proud one for my parents. My father’s words before the exam stayed with me, and my parents finally agreed—it was time to upgrade my training.
They began searching for an institution that offered better training with affordable fees, and eventually found one with a scholarship program. Students who secured distinction in dance examinations were offered fee concessions. For my parents, this felt like a blessing—finally, better training was within reach.
But there was a challenge.
The new dance class was far from our home, and around the same time, my parents had also changed my school to ensure better education. Both were located far from our residence. With my father working, a younger brother at home, and responsibilities in a joint family, it wasn’t possible for my parents to accompany me every day.
That’s when they asked me a question I will never forget: “If you want better education and deeper dance training, you must learn to travel alone. Are you ready?”
I was only twelve years old, and I said yes.
Thus began a completely new phase of my life—a new school, a new dance class, a new world, and opportunities that would shape me not only as a dancer but as a human being. My days became long and demanding. I would leave home at 9:30 in the morning, attend school until 5:00 PM, and from there travel directly to my dance class, reaching by 6:30 PM. Classes went on till 8:00 PM, and returning home often took more than an hour by bus.
Sometimes I missed the bus and had to get down halfway and walk the remaining distance home. Yet, strangely, none of this felt like hardship. I made the journey my classroom. I revised taalam, practiced hand gestures, repeated adavus in my mind, and even mixed academic formulas with the rhythm of ta ka dhi mi.
Through these journeys, my parents taught me independence, responsibility, and trust. They showed me that art demands discipline—but it also leads to happiness.
This phase of my life was transformative, and my new dance teacher played a crucial role in it. What new approaches did this mentor introduce? What changed within me? What strengthened my commitment and made me never give up on Bharatanatyam?
To know more, stay tuned—this journey is far from over. One step, one bus ride, one rhythm at a time.
- Kalpita Rane