Dancing to Eternal Bliss
In the world of performing arts, hundreds of dance schools and institutions exist to train able-bodied individuals. These institutions offer a multitude of dance courses that culminate in certificates, diplomas, and even degrees in various forms of dance. However, amidst this abundance, there is a glaring absence of institutions dedicated to teaching classical dance to people with disabilities. Despite the growing conversation around inclusivity, not a single institution specializes in classical wheelchair dance for the differently-abled.
If you look at the stages of major dance festivals—whether at the state, national, or international levels—they are overwhelmingly filled with performers without disabilities. From grand stages to local platforms, these performers dominate the space, leaving little room for artists with disabilities to be seen and heard. It is this imbalance that compels us to rise and awaken. It is time for society to recognize that people with disabilities are equally talented, equally capable, and equally deserving of the opportunity to perform.
With the right environment, teaching methods, and opportunities, Persons with Disabilities (PWDs) can excel in the performing arts, just like their able-bodied counterparts. In fact, I would argue that, given the right tools, they can even surpass these so-called “normal” individuals. This belief came to me many years ago, and it has been the guiding light in my journey since.
As a classical dancer myself, I had the privilege of performing Bharatanatyam and Kathak across various stages. I received applause, standing ovations, and media coverage for my solo performances. People took photographs with me, sought my autograph, and hailed me as a remarkable artist. But deep down, I was never satisfied with this recognition. I knew that it wasn’t meant for me. It was meant for those who, despite their disabilities, had never been given the chance to showcase their talent. They were the ones who needed the platform, the applause, and the recognition.
This thought weighed heavily on my heart, often keeping me awake at night. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something needed to change. One day, I took a decisive step. I sat in a wheelchair, tied my legs to the footrests with a rope, and tried to replicate the dance movements I used to perform with my legs. It was an enlightening experience. I quickly realized that classical dance movements could not be easily translated into wheelchair movements. In fact, I fell backward from the wheelchair and injured myself. But the pain didn’t deter me—I kept trying, again and again.
What I discovered through this process was that while classical dance traditionally requires the use of both legs and hands, wheelchair dancing requires a completely different approach. One hand must lift and move the wheelchair, bearing the weight of the body, while the other hand performs mudras and hand gestures. After hours of effort and multiple failures, I began to create a few successful movements. I spent hours, sometimes six to eight hours a day, working on new compositions. Over time, I managed to choreograph some of Bharatanatyam’s most challenging pieces, including Varnam and Thillana, specifically for wheelchair dancing.
This process led to the creation of a new form of dance—Classical Wheelchair Dance—performed on a specially designed wheelchair that I invented. With this new art form in hand, I approached several organizations, dance festivals, and sabhas to showcase the work of my differently-abled students, who had spent years mastering these movements. To my dismay, many refused to give us a platform. They told me that their festivals were only for able-bodied performers.
But I refused to let that stop me. I used my own savings to book venues and began presenting wheelchair dance shows on my own. Slowly but surely, these performances started gaining attention. People began to realize that individuals with disabilities could perform classical dance on wheelchairs, just as beautifully as their able-bodied counterparts. Soon, we were invited to perform at state, national, and even international dance festivals.
The journey has been anything but easy, but the results have been extraordinary. Many of my students with disabilities have learned wheelchair dance and continue to practice and perform regularly. However, something was still missing—formal recognition. Without official recognition, the art form and its practitioners would not be able to receive the credentials they deserved. It was at this time that fate intervened. While working with Karnataka State Dr. Gangubhai Hangal Music and Performing Arts University in Mysore, where I served as a syndicate member, the honourable Vice-Chancellor, Prof. Nagesh V. Bettakote, suggested that I should seek university affiliation for Classical Wheelchair Dance. His words were like a divine message—I had been waiting for this opportunity for years.
I firmly believe that unless an art form is institutionalized and given a proper format and grading system, it risks fading away. Just as music has its notation system, I developed a similar system for wheelchair dance. After extensive work and collaboration with professors, scholars, and artists, we met all the requirements needed to establish this as an official program. Today, I am proud to say that we offer an officially recognized certificate and diploma in Classical Wheelchair Dance—the first of its kind.
To all my friends in the field of dance and disability: I dedicate my life and my work to the innovation of Classical Wheelchair Dance. I truly believe that everyone, regardless of their abilities, has the right to dance professionally. The courses we offer will provide dignity, equality, and inclusion in the performing arts. Now is the time for cultural inclusion and cultural equality.