ABSTRACT
A group of girls pour out into the courtyard of a rehabilitation home for women on the fringes of south Kolkata. They are to attend a dance class with a young trainer in the courtyard. The differences among the residents are striking. The shapes and sizes and the personalities are varied. Some girls are barely in their teens, and the oldest might be in her 40s. The rest are in between. Some are fit and smiling, while others are frowning and definitely showing signs of resistance to this forcible invasion into their time. Many of the women stand in clusters—with tell-tale signs of excitement or at least readiness to start with the activities that are planned into their weekly routine. Some stand aloof, resigned, and not really part of the group. One teenager sits down on a raised platform and looks unwell.
The instructor starts her class formally with an instruction for all of the girls to hold hands and stand in a circle. That is the point where I am drawn into their circle, temporarily becoming a part of it, preparing to share their world at least symbolically, for a while. The instructor, introduces me formally, as a guest who is a dancer and who will be joining the group as a facilitator/participant for the next two days.
