As I was saying…

I started telling you about the Bollywood dance project I worked on last year. And the people I met while I was doing it. Some I did not meet, but enjoyed talking to. And a few were difficult enough for me to abandon the idea of speaking to them, after a whole lot of tries over the phone and else-how. In the process of collecting the information that I needed, I came across characters that I will include in a novel, if I ever wrote one, that is. They had their quirks, their madness, their passions and their manners, all in the places that they belonged, and had no compunctions about displaying any of it to me, a stranger who had wandered into their lives and was asking questions about everything.

Among the participants that I spoke to was one that was not easy to get through to, a young woman who had her walls and defenses firmly in place and seemed more wary of me than I was of her. But she soon became a favourite that I rooted for, a strong, sharp, determined woman with a surefire need and drive to become the best. I had seen her on television and was very impressed with her acting talent. Reviews I had read of her work in a big screen production made me increasingly curious about her, about why she, of all people, would choose to be part of a dance reality show, something that could count as being frivolous when compared to the kind of work she was so good at. She was Shilpa Shukla, the intense lead in a TV drama who was the Godmother, a female don who held her own in a male-biased world. She had that kind of face – the determination burned in those strong lines and firm chin. And then you looked at the eyes, dark, strangely soft and shy, almost asking for approval as they surveyed the world from behind a screen of reluctance to show more and, in that, showing a lot more than she would have believed. In a way, I am glad she was eliminated, though I wish she had not been, since she is worth so much more than just a waggle of the hips and the portrayal of a character developed within a three-minute span to loud music on a set. I have been looking for her since then, on television, in films, on the stage, anywhere that she could bring her talent to. I look forward to seeing her again and, of course, her work.

As I do many of the others. There was a group of young choreographers who spoke to me eagerly, wanting to talk about their work and their lives. There was Javed Sanadi, who was teamed with Monica Bedi (of her, more later), who keeps in touch occasionally long after the interviews are done. There was Nishant Bhat, Shilpa’s choreographer, who wept almost as much as she did when they had to do a dance-off and were finally out of the contest. There was Himanshu Gadani, paired with the tempestuous Gauhar Khan, who was brought in after a few episodes and brought out some of the best in his student. There was Deepak Singh, well aware of the problems and strengths that his partner Parul Chauhan, star of a popular Hindi soap opera, had to deal with, and managed to bring out the best in her and change her sari-clad and sindoor-smeared image. And there were many more.

Again, for another day, another blog.