PriyankaPereira , Somya Lakhani
Sun Sep 04 2011, 02:25 hrs New Delhi
Indian Express
B-boy crew from Dharavi
An American dance form gives underprivileged young boys in cities a reason to swagger.
The dead greyness of a Delhi afternoon hangs over the houses of C-block in Ambedkar Nagar. Rows of brick houses, clothes lines criss-crossing their grim, unpainted facades. The action, however, is at the park, where 23-year-old Deepak Karodia is teaching his 10-year-old neighbours the art of B-boying. There is no music, only the whir of bodies spinning, and breaking into back spins. Their shoes are worn out, while some wear chappals, but their enthusiasm is evident. They show off their stunts — legs in the air, head on the ground, attitude in their voice and moves. “Ab panje tight ho gaye hai isliye ab darr nahi lagta (My feet have grown firm. I’m not scared any more),” says 11-year-old Abhishek, as he pulls off a fish walk, slithers on the ground and gets up with a jerk.
Six months ago, Karodia had only three students. Now, his class has grown to 13 boys. “Initially, their parents didn’t want them to do learn. They called it a ‘circus’, and were scared that the children would hurt themselves or miss studies. But slowly things changed,” says Karodia, who teaches the dance at an institute in south Delhi, and who picked it up as a schoolchild from reality dance shows on television. For his own colony children, he doesn’t charge a fee, and takes classes every Saturday. The children practise every morning in the park, and, without exception, wish to audition for a dance reality show on TV some day.
The B-boys are on the streets. They burst onto sleepy parks, and swagger into subways, to strut their stuff — sometimes with nothing more than their nimble bodies, and a speakerphone that blares Beastie Boys’ Intergalactic. A big chunk of them come from the street, from Delhi’s lower-middle class colonies like Humayunpur and Khirkee Extension, from Pune’s SB Road to Mumbai’s Dharavi. Eighteen-year-old Akash meets us with his troupe at Sion Fort, Mumbai, on a rainy day. All of them live in Dharavi, study in nearby colleges or work part-time, and gather at the fort to practise their moves when they get time. “I used to go to college but never attended lectures. One day I saw a few other boys breaking (another name of B-boying) and I got interested,” says Akash, who was overweight at that time. “I couldn’t bend properly or stretch my hands and legs. But I made sure I practised a lot,” he says. “We are not very well off, so we cannot go to dance classes. But B-boying is something taught only by the passionate,” he says. He isn’t the only one, several children in Dharavi learn breaking to forget the stress of their lives.
B-boying traces its roots to the black neighbourhoods in the Bronx borough of New York. In the 1970s, a clutch of hip-hop DJs switched the emphasis of the music they played from the song to a “break” in the track. During the break, dancers known as B-boys jumped in, performing routines that were borrowed from the flying, confrontational moves of capoeira, a Brazilian martial arts form, and flamboyant styles like tap dancing and Lindy Hop. In 2007, one of India’s first B-boying crew, Underdog Kombats, was formed in Mumbai. It opened an academy in the city’s suburbs two years later. “We have students from all backgrounds — rich kids who want to flaunt their moves at a party and the poor ones, many of whom want to prove a point,” says Paritosh, one of the founders of the group.
How a dance born in American ghettos has trickled down to India is a story in democratisation. Nikhil Kumar, a Class IX student of Sarvodya Co-ed Senior Secondary School, lives in Humayunpur, a congested south Delhi colony. His father is a driver, and his mother a housewife. A friend introduced him to B-boying and after watching a number of videos on YouTube, Nikhil realised he did not need a mentor. He formed a crew with his friends and called it B-boys Agnastik Crew. “Hum fees nahi de sakte hai lekin apne bal pe itna aage aaye hai (We can’t pay fees, but we’ve come so far on our own),” he says. Their English may not be polished, but they know the hip-hop numbers they dance to by heart. “James Brown, J Rock, Lil B and Black Eyed Peas are our favourites,” says Ranjan, the all-rounder of Agnastik, who excels at flares, a B-boying power move hard to master. The crew recently performed at India Habitat Centre and were paid Rs 50,000. They bought B-boying mats, phones for two members who couldn’t afford one earlier and divided the rest of the money. “We are no less talented and we want to prove this, especially to the foreigners,” says Nikhil.
The boys depend on the internet to watch their favourite crews and B-boys from across the world — Cloud, Cico, Last For 1 and Extreme Crew. A friend’s cyber cafe in Safdarjung Enclave is their music station —when not studying or dancing, they all go there and watch videos. A few months ago, they downloaded a Virtual DJ software to help them mix their own music.
While exposure to the internet, and dreams of performing in reality shows such as Dance India Dance draw them to B-boying, it is also a way to stay away from the streets. Netrapal Singh aka ‘He ra’, India’s most well-known B-boy, started Tiny Drops Hip Hop Centre in Dharavi three years ago and opened a branch in Delhi’s Khirkee Extension a year ago. “I’m not a dance teacher, I am their buddy and mentor. They are on the streets and meet all kinds of people. I try and steer them away. I make them choose between their passion and the bad influences outside,” he says.
Tiny Drops has been lent a room by the Khoj Art Foundation, a Delhi-based arts organisation, where the young men practise their dance every evening. Some just come and hang out, they dress the part but don’t dance. Others sit in a corner, bobbing their head to the music and do graffiti. They all have a story to share. Some don’t have a family apart from friends, others have abusive parents, while some are first-generation Delhi migrants. “It’s very democratic here. The children manage the finances. The Mumbai centre is now being handled by a student,” says He ra. He remembers the reaction of the children’s parents when he organised the first Park Jam with a DJ. “They couldn’t believe their children were the centre of attention and were amazed,” he says.
What draws India’s underprivileged youngsters to B-boying? “It requires minimum resources. You need an open space, music on your phones, cheap speakers and you are set,” says He ra. Bollywood choreographer Remo D’Souza has another answer. “It’s a very difficult dance form and many have the urge to prove that they can do it even when things are not in their favour. It gives them a sense of achievement.”
Watch Abhishek as he pulls off a tough back flip, adjusts the worn-out collar of his shirt, and walks out with a smile.
It’s not just the swagger, it’s also pride.
