Movement. Magic. Freedom!

The Magic of Letting Go | The Confidence That Follows

What does it mean to be free?

Is freedom only about what we can do in the world — or is it also about what we allow ourselves to feel within?

For me, the first taste of freedom came through dance. I began performing on stage when I was just three or four years old. Dance came naturally — I loved the music, the rhythm, the energy. On stage, I felt light. But that freedom stayed inside the world of performance. inside the safety of a known choreography. Outside of it, I was not as free. Speaking up in a room, walking onto a stage to present, weighed down, hyper-aware of my body and how I looked.

The big shift happened much later, in my mid-20s, when I became a dance instructor. Dancing well was no longer enough. As an instructor, I had to create a space where others, no matter their finesse, could move, feel free, and believe they belonged. My clients did not come to perfect every step. They came to experience freedom, to feel joy in movement. And if I wanted them to feel that way, I had to let go myself.

That perspective was hard, and the transition was not easy. It takes a while to stop looking in the mirror for reassurance, to stop waiting for someone else to nod and say, “yes, good enough.” But I realised I could not teach freedom while still holding on to the need for validation. I had to let go. The measure was no longer perfection. It became presence. Not how sharp the step looked, but whether I was bringing energy, joy, and connection into the room.

And something magical happened. The more I let go, the better I became — not just as an instructor, but as a dancer too. Without the burden of validation, I moved with abandon. I felt lighter. And over time, I carried that same confidence off the stage and into other parts of my life. It didn’t matter if my dance was perfect, what mattered was that I felt perfect when I danced.

Nervousness still comes before a talk or presentation — but fear has left me. And that nervousness feels welcome now. It reminds me that what I am doing matters.

Because here is the thing: the moment you let go, fear loses its grip and clarity takes centre stage. You begin to flow from an internal space of freedom. And when that happens, it shows. The room feels lighter. People around you feel freer, too.

Maybe for you it isn’t dance. Maybe it is painting, writing, running, or simply speaking up in a meeting. Whatever the medium, the moment you stop seeking validation and instead choose presence — that is freedom.

From body to mind. From movement to presence.

The magic of letting go.
And the confidence that follows.

Somewhere Between the Pre-reads and the Purpose

Life of a PGPEMer @ IIMB

We are in the middle of the sixth semester now—a strange place to be. Not quite at the end, but far enough in to feel the weight of the journey. The strain of the marathon is real—  the cognitive fatigue, calendar chaos, and the constant juggling.

But I also feel a slow tug of war at play that comes in every now and then...

A sense that the mid-life churn that brought many of us here—that restlessness, that need to reimagine or restart— to the slow, simmering tension of “what did I do all this for?”, “what next?”, and “will it all be worth it?”

Versus the quiet melancholic tug that says, beneath the assignments, readings, deadlines, and late-night cohort calls, there’s something else that's brewing ---- that it’s almost over.

This phase feels like the last few kilometres of a marathon—not the most glamorous, but perhaps the most defining.  We are tired, but strangely alive. Maybe every class is starting to feel more precious. Every group project feels like a memory in the making. We already seem to be almost reminiscing: the inside jokes, the flurry of WhatsApp pings, the nervous energy before presentations, the post-class banter that continues till someone says bhai "nai milega" ;)

There is so much I want to do still. And so much I want to take in before this chapter closes.

But maybe that’s the gift of this moment—to sit in the in-between. 

To feel the weight of all that has been learned, and the ache of what is about to end. And to know that this strange mix of fatigue and fulfilment is a sign that something meaningful happened here.

So here’s to making it this far.
To the versions of ourselves that we met, dropped, and re-discovered along the way.
And to the bittersweet clarity of almost there.