The hall in which they learn is a makeshift. But as soon as the lesson begins, we shift from the slum to a place of poise and grace. Their moves in their dusty cute little pink tutus aren’t hasty but calculated. And their faces glow like the imaginary stars and flowers they are ‘picking’ in the dance. Almost immediately I know, certainly, that theirs is a bright future to be yielded, a bright torch to be carried forth to the world. Tip-toeing; the girls lead with zeal while the boys try to keep up on their heels. It’s a clear show of longing to amaze and excel and find freedom, through dance. Class only lasts a few hours: happiness for most of them and to others; the safest haven. What a burst of inspiration for my heart to handle from the most unexpected quarters.