01 March, 2021

Dance Diary

In Outlook this week, a diary by classical dancer Sonal Mansingh

Dance Diary
An Archive of Seasons

I am reclusive. I am gregarious. I am in solitude but with a window open. When I dance the audience becomes one single point of light. When I speak, my words dance. I watch birds flying in to nest and rest for the night. That tree of silk-cotton now totally bald was green with shiny leaves. Now not one leaf to swear by. That summer when I moved here I saw huge orange-red flowers and not a single leaf. Then flowers left puffs of silk-cotton balls floating in air, giving asthmatic spasms to many. In this seventh year of my stay in this flat I see my life, years gone by as alternating as flowers and leaves and bare branches on which hundreds of birds rest, perch, play. I am that tree.

‘Think Sonal, how would you recount your journey of 75 years in 2 hours?’ a friend asked. They were making a video presentation. The process of selection of photos and video-clips was as daunting as enriching. Awesome, fantastic, unbelievable,...

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