Dancing Back to Myself 💃🏻

Priya in the Green Room at Peacock Theatre, LSE

It’s International Dance Day today and I am reminded of the crisp London air brushing my face as I hurried across the city one afternoon, heart pounding with a strange mix of excitement and fear. It was March 14, 2022 which was the night of the AscenDance Lent Term Dance showcase at the legendary Peacock Theatre at LSE. The night I would step on stage and perform hip hop something I had never dared to do before.

But to tell you the whole story, I have to take you back a little further.

Living the Dream, Juggling Realities

Three months into studying at the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) and I was already living the dream I had once only dared to imagine.

Studying my master’s at one of the most reputed universities in the world came with its dazzling perks:

•  An impressive campus nestled in the heart of Central London 💂🏻

•  A giant library that felt like a temple for thinkers 🏬

• World-class faculty and absolutely brilliant professors who inspired me to dream bigger and think deeper

• And classmates from every corner of the globe, each bringing their own amazing stories, interesting perspectives, and great insights into every discussion 👥

Every day at LSE felt electric, like I could touch the sky if I wanted to.

And yet, alongside the thrill, there was the undeniable weight of challenge. Navigating life in a new city, a new country, a new continent, wasn’t always glamorous. Adjusting to a new academic culture that prioritized critical analysis pushed me beyond the limits of my comfort zone. Managing deadlines, research, seminars, all while figuring out how to grocery shop, do laundry, commute; I must admit, it was a beautiful, exhausting juggling act.

In that intense whirlwind of survival and striving, it would have been so easy to push away everything that wasn’t “essential.”

Like dance.

Echoes of a Familiar Calling

One evening, while scrolling through campus activities, I stumbled upon the LSE Dance Club page.

For a moment, my heart did a little flip.

Dance.

A memory stirred.

I saw flashes of a younger me who was twirling on school stages, choreographing with friends for the teacher’s day function in school, dancing at college fests and losing myself completely in the music. 

There was never a time in my childhood where I was not dancing whether it was to entertain guests when they visited my house, meeting my friends and dancing imagining we are performing for a charity show, imitating Dance shows that flooded our television sets growing up or just dancing when someone’s baarat was passing by my house. 

Dance had once been my secret superpower. It was how I expressed myself when words weren’t enough. It was therapy before I even knew what therapy meant. But somewhere along the way, amidst growing up, chasing achievements, facing life’s curveballs; I had quietly tucked that part of me away.

Seeing that post by LSE Dance Club was like seeing an old friend at a busy train station. Unexpected. Stirring. Undeniable.

At first, I hesitated.
"You haven't danced in years," that familiar inner critic whispered.
"You're too busy. Too rusty. Too old to start again."

But somewhere deeper, a quieter voice, softer but stronger, said: "You are never too old to return to what you love."

And so, despite my fears, I took a leap of faith and signed up for the Lent Term Showcase AscenDance 2022 to be performed at the magnificent Peacock Theatre.

Peacock Theatre at LSE

Different Worlds, One Beat

I still remember the rush of nerves walking into my first rehearsal, surrounded mostly by undergrads, vibrant and fearless. There were two of us doing our master's; the rest were energetic undergraduates from all over the world - Brazil, Russia, Korea and Japan. Different languages, different stories, but the same love for movement.

Our choreographer, Lucie Camelo, was exactly the spark we needed. She wasn’t just teaching steps, she was breathing life into us. She cheered louder than anyone when we got it right, and encouraged us even more when we stumbled. She made us believe that it didn’t matter if we missed a beat what mattered was showing up with heart.

At Dance Auditorium inside Marshall Building, LSE

Finding Myself in the Chaos

Managing dance rehearsals between seminar classes, research projects, and city life was chaotic, to say the least. There were days when I was physically tired and mentally overwhelmed and I doubted if I could pull it off.

But the dance classes became my refuge. A sacred hour where academic stress, cultural adjustment, homesickness all of it melted away, and I could just be.

Choosing to perform hip hop was its own rebellion. I had always gravitated toward couple dance in school or grooved at Bollywood beats back in college. But Hip hop felt wild, raw, unapologetically loud and maybe what I needed at that moment in my life. Learning it was messy and exhilarating. I stumbled. I laughed. I learned. I grew. And somewhere amidst those practices, sweaty rehearsals, and endless repetitions, I found myself again.

The Magic Before the Spotlight

Besides rediscovering my love for dance, rehearsals became a window into the magic that usually stays hidden behind the scenes. I stepped into a live masterclass on what it truly takes to bring a showcase alive. The lighting cues perfectly timed to every beat, the music checks echoing through the empty theatre, the precise calculation of where our feet needed to land on stage, the tight timing of our entrance and exit.

There was a nervous, electric buzz before we performed in front of seasoned dancers: a shared heartbeat of excitement and fear. It made me realize: a performance isn’t just about the final act: it’s built in those long, chaotic, beautiful hours before the curtains rise.

Behind the scene at the rehearsal

The Performance

The big night arrived on 14th March 2022. Backstage at the Peacock Theatre, the air was electric. Fixing last-minute costumes. Practicing that one tricky step one more time. Whispering "good luck" to each other before the lights dimmed.

Stage, Peacock Theatre, LSE (Image from West End Theatre Guide)

As we stepped onto that grand stage, a strange calm washed over me. The music started. The world disappeared. It was just me:  breathing, moving, soaring. For those few minutes, I wasn’t a student, or a foreigner, or "someone trying to fit in." I was simply a girl who had found her way back to herself through DANCE.

Each move felt like reclaiming a piece of myself I had almost forgotten.

In that moment under the dazzling lights, I wasn’t just performing choreography. I was coming home to the version of me that danced not for applause, not for approval, but for pure, unfiltered joy.

Dance has always been my therapy. The language my soul speaks when words fall short. The bridge between the little girl who once danced with abandon, and the woman who is learning, again and again, to choose herself.

Keep Dancing…

Today, on International Dance Day, I make a promise:

• To dance for that little girl who twirled barefoot in the living room.

• To dance for the young woman who once forgot her own magic.

• To dance for the future me who knows that healing, happiness, and home are all found in movement.

• To never again pack away parts of myself in the name of "growing up."

• To always find my way back  through music, through movement, through joy.

Because dance has always been my therapy, my rebellion, my love letter to life. Thank you LSE, Dance Club and Lucie for giving me memories of a life time but more than that to help me fall in love again with who I am when I am dancing.

Here’s to all of us: reclaiming our forgotten loves, one brave step at a time.

Happy International Dance Day. 🌟

The music is still playing. And your dance floor is always waiting.

Here’s a piece of my heart —
👉 Click here to watch our AscenDance 2022 Performance (Watch Now)