A Dancer

Turning a dream, into a reality

I have always had a passion for dance. It’s inextricably linked to my being. Whether you knew me at 7 years old, or are just meeting me today, you will see that not a day goes by without me having to move my body in a choreographed fashion. It is not something “I chose”, and equally, not something I was born to be good at.

The formative years

Despite always having a love for dance, I was told that I specifically could not join a local traditional Indian dance form for, firstly being too young, then being too old to start. We live next door to a ballet school, and I used to envy the girls in their tutus and perfect buns that they had that opportunity to dance every week. But academics took priority. I cannot for one second, complain. I went to an incredible school, and physical activity was very much a priority there, however, dance classes were scant and scattered through the early years, although, I took any opportunity to force my friends into Spice Girls choreography in the park whenever I had the chance.

Still though, in these formative years, the themes around dance were all about perfectionism, not fun. Even as a child, there was a vision that a dancer had to look a certain way, act a certain way.

We move on to secondary school. Oh, to be a girl that loves to dance, in an all girl’s school with no formal dance programme. So what did I do? I made it a thing. I shoehorned a dance show into our sixth form to raise money for charity. However, this is where the elitism kicked in, once again. You had to be friends with certain people, be the right kind of ‘cool’ to be in certain dance routines. In fairness, the girls that were at the top of the social league at that moment did manage some high quality choreography, formations and costumes, so I give credit where due. However, dance, once again, felt elitist, exclusionary and frankly, made me feel bad about myself and my abilities, when I feel it should do the exact opposite.

Now, somewhere in the mid-teens, I met Miss Renee. Now, not having formal opportunities to dance, I carved these out given any chance. Remember the ballet school next door? Well, I decided for my Duke of Edinburgh award (hands up who has their bronze award on a shelf somewhere), that I would volunteer at the school to be a classroom assistant for the baby ballet class. Miss Renee, a great teacher, shockingly patient with her room full of neatly dressed dancers, was always to the point. And a few months into me being able to learn to dance with her (in the style of jazz), she wrote me a report, which I have to this day which says “Nirja has a lot of heart”. Now, if you’ve ever been told this, you’ll know, having a lot of heart, means that you don’t have a lot else! However, she did see in me that I really, REALLY wanted to dance. She was right. We are still in touch, despite her moving back to Australia and she is so proud of me doing what I do.

“Did I send you to a medical school or a dancing school?”

This was a sentence repeated often by my father. My dad is incredible, and undoubtedly you will get to know him more on this journey. After I started medical school, whenever he would ask me what I was doing, the answer would invariably include ‘a dance rehearsal’. He really did wonder what was going on in that university, that I was spending so much of my time dancing, but then he came to see a show, and this changed everything.

Again, at university, audition processes left me excluded from certain shows. I was heartbroken. Really and truly. I just wanted to dance. I knew I would work so hard to learn the choreography. And my head filled (and is still filled), with reasons they didn’t pick me. I am, slowly, trying to let this go.

Through starting out with a newly formed cheerleading squad, I was given the opportunity (more like ‘seized’) to choreograph. We won, and placed at several national competitions. And I started to think ‘I’m not that bad at this’. This involved so much rewiring of my brain given how I had been consistently told and shown that I was not good enough.

Being a doctor doesn’t leave much time for dancing

After qualifying, there was a hole. I was doing long on calls. Nights. Oh, the nights. There was no time. Then, on a chance encounter after a long stretch of on call shifts, I met Missie. I never wanted to go to Missie’s class. In fact, I was terrified. The studio had a policy whereby you could watch a class from outside through a little round window to see if it would be a good fit. Immediately, I thought ‘no’. No way, in fact. She was so fast and technical, it was scary. Fast forward, one day, I decided to leap, and although I don’t remember first entering her class, it’s only because it was the beginning of so many more memories. I fought to get to her class on the weekends, even if it was after nights. I wanted to get better. Missie had me join her troupe for a local show. Again, I managed rehearsals despite an on call rota in KENT, because I cared so much about wanting to dance. Missie then chose to open up her own studio, and gave me a wonderful opportunity to teach with her. Now, no one who attends dance classes likes to turn up whenever their ‘doctor-who-is-also-a-dance-teacher’ decides not to be in a hospital. If you’ve ever had a friend in healthcare say ‘yes, I can meet you for brunch.. after nights.. in 29 days time.. for 45 mins’, you will know, scheduling regular time on an on call rota is impossible.

I took what is called an ‘F3’ year, essentially, extending my foundation training to allow me to have a regular schedule whilst still working as a doctor. And ‘doctor dancing’ was born.

Here is a clip of me being invited to Texas to teach a dance class! Wild, isn’t it?

I now run a regular dance class in West London as well as online with the ultimate aim of inclusion. I want to help women feel confident. Enjoy themselves. Never to feel the elitist feeling surrounding dance. It is about joy, mindfulness, letting go, connecting.

It is incredible how so many people saying no, has led to me saying a big, fat YES, to anyone who wants to dance.

So, to anyone who has ever been told ‘no’ to doing something you love, remember, never give up. If you love to do something, keep going. The best is yet to come.