For Ringwon T. Ngahor, dance began as curiosity, a place of belonging, her voice, and to more beyond her.
For Ringwon T. Ngahor, dance did not arrive as a calling fully formed. It began with curiosity—the instinct that drew her towards anything unfamiliar, anything that offered something new to learn. Dance was one among many “novel explorations” in her younger years, beginning with school performances and gradually taking deeper root when she joined Generation Squad in 2014.
What fascinated her was the transformation she witnessed in dancers- people she barely knew seemed to become “even greater strangers” once the music began, carried into entirely different personas by something that took hold of them “way and beyond.” In a group that was then “homogeneously male-dominated,” another thought began to take shape: “If the men can, then why not a woman? Why not me?”, eventually becoming the group’s first female member.
Those years brought performances, competitions, and opportunities within and beyond Manipur; new encounters and new possibilities, even as she continued her graduation. But all along, another question gradually became unavoidable: “ Will dance just remain something I enjoy or can I nurture my love for it even more?”
The answer emerged through an Instagram advertisement for Big Dance Centre in Delhi, offering professional dance training. The decision felt almost cinematic—a flashback to the people she had inspired and those who had inspired her, and to the realisation that a talent she believed was God-given deserved to be pursued and nurtured rather than left unexplored.
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Yet the apprehensions surrounding such a choice were familiar. Seniors she admired had stepped away from pursuing dance professionally, she herself was confronted by societal expectations and pressures such as the limited timeframe that a woman’s passions can last, the uncertainty and the difficulty of sustaining dance as a long-term occupation. That hesitation, she says, still exists today. However, rather than blaming those who didn’t nurture their talent full time, nor society at large, for it, she sees herself as having once carried the same fears, while also resiliently breaking that barrier.
What has changed is the vantage point from which she now sees the arts. Having established herself within the field, Ringwon sees not a lack of talent in the community, but an abundance of possibility and capacity—provided young people receive the right training, guidance, infrastructure and encouragement.
That conviction took shape in Zaishin Dance Studio. “Zai,” drawn from Zaikora (in Tangkhul) meaning “all,” reflecting her idea of something to all and for all, and “Shin” carrying the memory of her younger brother, whom she lost in January, 2020.
Check out Zaishin Dance Studio | https://www.instagram.com/zaishin_dancestudio/
Pursuing this path has demanded sacrifices—financial stability, academic possibilities and the security of a conventional career. Yet she continues, supported, and by the continued prayers of the people who believe in the path she has chosen.
In response to Easternlight Zimik, an indigenous fashion designer-cum-owner of East Contemporary Label, describing her as a “self-made young woman,” Ringwon sees a grounding reminder of the journey she has undertaken.
For Ringwon, however, success is not one glorious moment. It lives in changing attitudes, students’ testimonies and the growing circle of people now helping more young people enter the field. What began with her has gradually become a space others can stand in.
Then came Venice.
Hand-picked by Surjit Nongmeikapam for a team with Babina Chabungbam and Maitreyee Joshi, her journey began with an almost unbelievable exchange: “Do you have a passport?” — “Yes.” — “Okay, we’re going to Venice.” Then fast forward to waking up her friends, “Wake up! We’re in Venice!” In one blink, she was there; in another, she was home again.
She carried pieces of home with her—kashan, khomasim, traditional earrings, going as far as to custom-design a bag using Tangkhul textile, home-cooked food, while also contributing steps from the Tangkhul traditional dance- Pheichak. More than an international performance, Venice reignited her passion and reminded her of why she had begun in the very first place.
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Her journey to Venice was made possible, too, by the reliability of her support system back home- family, friends, and the commitment of her co-workers Thanchui, Mazan and Nganing, crediting them for Zaishin’s continuance in her absence; allowing her to step beyond Ukhrul without leaving behind what she has built.
Now, she wants to tell her own story through her own movement. Though her journey may take her beyond Ukhrul, her purpose remains rooted here.
“My heart will always be here. I’m committed to building the community here… I will always lean back Home, to My People.”
For Ringwon, perhaps the journey is not simply about how far dance can take her, but about what she can bring back—a wider horizon, a renewed belief in what is possible, and a path that others from home might one day walk with greater certainty.
