Cancer is a mind game.

 

I have always enjoyed games of the mind—crosswords, puzzles, dance *jatis*, mnemonics, etc.

Here was one more important mind game that I needed to play.

 

And thus, I made my most crucial decision; to train my mind to not focus on cancer and its attendant visitors.

 

The only way I could escape my mind converging on cancer, was to focus on something that animated me, moved me and touched me. And that, I found in my dance. Dance is really who

I am. Dance is really my life’s breath, in every sense of the word.

 

Every day consciously, with a whole lot of visual and mental cues, I pulled myself out of the thought processes that sends you into that emotional whirlpool that cancer can push you into, then sucks you into that melancholic morass, a deadly dank and dark swamp, that can effectively keep the light of reason and mind blocked. It does that.

 

But, because I had something else to focus on, and something else to shift my mind to, I found that I was able to cut this whole cancer focus out of my mind. I was able to take my thoughts and push them into my dance. I re-trained my mind to think that the cancer was not a big deal. I would go and get my chemo, take the three days of rest that my body needed, and then I was back in the studio dancing, teaching, or doing choreography.

 

Your mind is really your final frontier.

 

Sure, it wasn’t easy, for how does one do that while dealing with a body ravaged by chemotherapy and radiation, my emotions yoyoing, and my mind cluttered with half-truths and half-baked information?

 

How do you keep cheer when you go from beautiful to bald in three days?

 

How do you not despair, when climbing a mere flight of stairs is sheer torture, that too for someone who has always been commended for high energy dancing?

 

How do you stay focussed and stay the course, while misery overwhelms and overpowers you?

 

All I wanted to do was curl up and weep. 

 

But then, I had told myself that fear and tears are options I did not have.

 

And so, I would drag myself every day to my dance studio, and practice as much as I could. Every time the cancer clutter invaded my mind, I would regroup and rework my mental frequency into dance.

 

Just stepping into my dance studio cut the mental static, as my footwork drowned the negative emotions, and my *prana* was recharged with the poetry of movement and expressions, *mudras* and metaphors, images and iconography of the stories of the Gods and Goddesses, the inherent philosophy of an ancient land and its enduring philosophies.

 

And yet, I needed something more, to go that extra mile, something that would lead me, goad me, and keep me on the path. 

 

I found it in a *shloka* I had learnt at my mother’s knee when I was four. *Jaya Jaya He Mahishasura Mardini, an ode to the Goddess Durga.* The powerful, fearless image of the Goddess became my sheet anchor, hand holding me over every nuanced negative thought.

 

Durga—World Mother, Mother Goddess created by the pantheon of Gods, who invested in Her their every power, to destroy Mahisha and every malevolence and evil.

 

Durga—resplendent, beautiful, bedecked, Her eighteen arms ready for warfare, as she rode into the battlefield astride Her Lion.

 

Durga—The embodiment of *Shakti*, of creative feminine energy.

 

Durga—The fearless one.

 

I owned that image, and made Her every attribute my very own.

 

And Durga rode into the battlefield astride a lion. She was Simhanandini. My lion was my own inner strength, my inner resilience, that all of us have. I just decided that I was going to tap into it, into this extraordinary source of energy and strength. 

 

Powered by the symbology of the *Hindu Sanatana Dharma*, that I was raised in and the passion of my training, I chose an alternative state of mind.

 

Of course, like anyone else, I was miserable, angry, and upset, when quite suddenly, without a by your leave, I was diagnosed with cancer of the breast. But then, it was really for a brief spell. I decided not to allow something as transient as an illness to take over me and my mind.

 

I refused to be limited and cramped by cancer. I decided not to allow something as temporary as a health setback, takeover me and my mind.

 

I had to move from fear, misery, and sorrow, to health, healing and happiness.

 

I learnt to not give cancer the importance it begs of you. Treat it, deal with it, but do not succumb to its emotional pulls, was my daily *mantra* to myself.

 

I needed to simply shift my mental gears from where I was to where I wanted to be.

 

But to go from where I was to where I wanted to be, I needed something—a peg, an image, to anchor this on. 

 

And that anchor was my dance, my passion, my energy, my very life breath; my core competency that now was my core strength. Through two years of cancer treatment, I brought laser-sharp focus into my dance, laser-sharp focus to such an extent that I danced a few weeks after surgery. I danced through and between chemo and radiation cycles; badgered my doctors to fit in my medical cycles to my performing schedule; dancing professionally through it all, continuing to teach, train and choreograph, curating national dance festivals, conferences, as well as touring nationally and internationally.

 

What I had done was, I had tuned out of cancer and tuned into my dance.

 

I told myself that this has to be handled like any other disease. It is not so insurmountable that I succumb to it and give way to pessimism. This thought entered my mind and I got ready for the surgery like I go about staging a new choreographed dance programme!

 

What I had also done was - I refused to play the blame game. I didn’t blame some unknown or perceived cause for my cancer. On the other hand, I looked cancer in the eye and said, *“Hail Fellow! Well met, but now you be on your way.”* I did not seek reasons for why cancer visited me, nor did I remonstrate with a personal God as to how He/She had let me down. Did not ever question, *“Why me?”* Did I ask why me, when all the wonderful experiences of life happened?

 

Instead of reacting to the cancer and making it larger than it really was, I chose to deal with it as just one page in my life. I refused to give cancer the importance it was begging of me. I refused to allow the clamour, clutter, and melodrama that society has associated with cancer, to get anywhere close to me.

 

I told myself that cancer was no excuse to stop getting on with a beautiful life. I kept my mind and my emotions on my dance.

 

Dance is why I am on this planet, so no cancer was going to stop that journey.

 

I chose I can, over I can’t. Most importantly, I chose not to take cancer too personally or too seriously.