Dancing in Circles, Dancing in Love

There’s a certain kind of magic that happens when dancers form a circle. It’s not just a shape — it’s a space, a feeling, a pulse. The circle has been part of dance for centuries, found in cultures across the world — from traditional folk dances to contemporary cyphers. And if you’ve ever been inside one, you know: the circle is love. The circle is a community.

In dance, the circle is where we come together — to move, to share, to celebrate. It’s where individuality meets unity, where solo expression blends seamlessly into collective energy. Whether it’s a freestyle cypher at a hip-hop jam, a contemporary improv session, or a group of friends just vibing in the studio after class, the circle becomes a safe space. A space where judgment falls away and the only thing that matters is the rhythm we share.

I remember the first time I truly felt the power of the circle. We’d just wrapped up a long, exhausting rehearsal, and instead of dispersing, someone put on a song — and slowly, we gathered. One by one, we stepped into the circle, not to impress but to express. There was laughter, there were cheers, and in that space, something shifted. The competition we often get caught up in faded away, and what was left was pure joy.

That’s the thing about dance communities — they remind you why you started. In an industry that can sometimes feel cutthroat, where technique and perfection often take center stage, the circle brings us back to the heart of it. It reminds us that dance isn’t just about hitting the cleanest lines or executing the most difficult tricks — it’s about connection. With music, with movement, with each other.

ICMD Beyond Boundaries Showcase at NCPA, Mumbai- 2025; choreographed by Neeraj Lohani

And the love for the circle? It’s rooted in the love for that connection. It’s the unspoken support when someone steps into the middle, vulnerable and brave. It’s the way we hype each other up, feeding off each other’s energy. It’s the shared breath when the music drops and everyone moves in sync, separate bodies moving as one soul.

But beyond the studio, beyond the stage, dance communities and their love for circles mirror something deeper — the human need for belonging. In life, just like in dance, we’re all looking for our circle. The people who get us. The people who push us to be better but hold space for us when we fall. The people who celebrate our wins and help us find our way when we’re lost.

For me, dance has always been more than movement — it’s been home. And in the circle, I’ve found my family. I’ve found late-night studio sessions where exhaustion melts into laughter. I’ve found spontaneous choreo ideas that turn into something beautiful at 1 a.m. I’ve found healing on days when nothing else made sense, when stepping into the studio felt like coming up for air after being underwater.

So when I think about why I dance, it always comes back to this: the circle and the community it holds. It’s in the way we catch each other when we fall and cheer when we rise. It’s in the quiet moments of understanding and the loud bursts of celebration. It’s in the love — fierce, unyielding, and endless.

The circle never really ends. And in that, there’s a kind of forever—a rhythm that keeps going, a love that keeps growing. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.