Dance for Zen moments in life

As the year comes to a close, it's time for an annual round-up. Frankly, highs and lows were far too blah to waste column space on; save MF Husain's demise, which marked end of an epoch.

Sadly, none of us could or did anything for him while he was alive. Yet, hundreds, including government spokespersons, wrote paeans in his obituary. To my mind this hypocrisy struck a serious low note.

The high note of the year was sounded by Neha Kirpal, the feisty young director of the very young India Art Fair, who brought in foreign equity proving that Indian contemporary art does make sense as a long term business perspective. Hopefully the event, which is slated for January 25-29 in New Delhi, will generate a sales spurt to kick start a recession-hit art market. 

On a personal high note, I have an unusual experience to share. The British High Commission in New Delhi is certainly an unusual venue for Flamenco lessons. But it's here that Paola Santacruz (her husband works with the British High Commission) gives aspirants a taste of flamenco. Over four days that I spent with her, I stumbled upon stellar life lessons that would have otherwise taken several years to discover and imbibe.

A native of Lima, Peru, Paola came to India via New York. Her teacher was trained by one of all time greats of Flamenco, the legendary Carmen Amaya. On day one, dressed in a traditional frilled skirt and a woolen scarf, Paola said, “I can see that you have no training in dance, but you've come all the way to learn....that's an A+.

But be warned, flamenco is difficult and rigorous. You may go back with nothing.” Feeling sheepish in my mock flamenco heels, given my flamenco shoes are still in transit, I tried not to wince. The next few hours were hard, to say the least.

As I slipped off my shoes, during a break, she urged, “...keep them on. If you take them off, it'll be impossible to put them back on.” As we progressed, the shoes stayed on longer, breaks became shorter and the routine tougher. Over and over, again and again, we repeated the basic drill, till finally, she said, “Ole!” with a loud clap of her palms and a flash of her mercurial smile. The cold of the crisp winter morning melted, as I finally got my vaguely preoccupied mind to focus on the left, right, right, left, heel toe, toe heel zapateo (footwork). “You see, it's just about being present,” she said, from her perch on an oversized speaker belting out a Spanish ballad.

Como Agua, crooned a male voice. “Like water...flow...,” she said. I tried only to have her say, “It's no good to keep trying. You either jump into the fire, or you don't. You can't keep standing on the edge of an inferno. The floor will give away under the heat eventually. Like fire, the music must consume you. Flamenco is about passion, it is not for the timid. There is nothing tentative about dance, just as there can be nothing tentative about life.” It was nothing short of a Zen moment.

One two three, one two three, uno, dos...one, two, three... I found myself counting even in my sleep over the next few nights.
Come dawn, my trippy brain and my aching feet would slip into flats to draw out a soundless routine on the floor so as not to wake up my neighbours in the B&B. At the end of day four, post a successful execution of a specific set of steps, Paola said, “Bravo! I can see that you will be able to dance in years to come.” For someone who believes she has two left feet, Paola's left-handed praise was akin to a sudden shower of snowflakes.

As 2012 beckons, I realise that indeed there are ways and ways of seeing. The rigours of flamenco afforded me unusual insights, in that I found answers to questions I'd been grappling with for years. The incisiveness with which Paola, as a teacher, peeled the layers, was exceptional. More than dance, I learnt about the Zen of dance, about the art of being present.  As a very dear friend remarked, every bit of learning changes one. So here's hoping 2012 brings more consciousness altering life lessons for us all.

The author is a published writer and an independent arts consultant