I taught myself how to do a backflip after seeing it in a Bollywood movie, when I was 19. For my 21st birthday, I asked my family only for money and gave myself the gift of a dance lesson. I found a school called The Danceworx Academy in Mumbai. The director said that I could do lots of tricks—headspins, backflips, handstands—but if they gave me a scholarship, I would have to take ballet, too.
My family thought dance was a hobby for rich people, not for people like us. My father was a taxi driver, my grandfather was a taxi driver; my father’s dream was that I go to college so I could work in an office that had air conditioning.
But I soon discovered that I really liked ballet. It was the first time in my 20 years of life that I felt happy and knew dance was what I wanted to do. The other students told me about a ballet teacher from Israel who was really tall and made everyone cry. I went to Yehuda Maor’s class and stayed in the back because I was nervous; I couldn’t speak English well and didn’t know French ballet terminology, so I had a hard time understanding. But Yehuda was not as bad as the others told me. He never yelled at me. Because I was there on a scholarship, I was hungry to become a better dancer and was open and ready to take his corrections.
Eventually, Yehuda invited me to attend the school’s company classes. I didn’t have money for food, so during breaks when everyone else was eating in the lobby, I stayed in the studio and kept working. The studio had a window, and Yehuda would watch me practice. One day, he came in and started coaching me. He told me he could make something out of me—that was the first time someone said they believed in me. His words gave me the courage to fight and to dance, which is not considered a career in India.
Yehuda knew I was struggling; he would notice the dark circles under my eyes when I didn’t sleep enough or didn’t have ballet shoes to take class. He would treat me to cakes and chocolates or take me to Starbucks after class for a Frappucino. Yehuda invested in me, and because he knew I was missing the basics of ballet he had me taking four ballet classes a day. Sometimes he would stand behind me and take class too. When he coached me, we worked on big jumps like double tours, révoltades, and double cabrioles. He said this was where I could really shine, and he trained me in a very explosive way. He made sure I went to classes and the gym but would often tell me to stop working when I overdid it. If I couldn’t get something right, I would spend the whole night in the studio. I’m very stubborn, but Yehuda warned me that I would hurt myself if I pushed myself too much.
At the beginning of my dance training, ballet variations were very hard for me, and sometimes the school director didn’t want me to perform. But Yehuda would fight with them. He thought I deserved the chance, and he choreographed to fit my athletic approach. I used to feel bad that I didn’t have the right feet or that I started so late, but now I believe that not having that talent made me work harder to achieve it.
After three years of training with Yehuda, he showed me a different kind of love when he sent me away so I could learn more. And when the Call Me Dancer documentary released in 2023, many students from all over India came with the hope of training with Yehuda.
I can never thank Yehuda enough for changing my life and changing my family’s lives. He never had his own family. He treats me as his son and my family treats him as my grandfather.
My dream is to bring Peridance [Contemporary Dance Company] to perform in India, as very few companies travel there, so it is hard for students to see professional dance companies. I want to give back and do for other students what Yehuda did for me.
