How Shilpi danced her way back to life

Saika Khatun Shilpi grew up dancing by the river. The river was the Padma, vast and patient, flowing past her childhood in the Hindu para of Rajshahi.

"I danced through school and college, and into teaching," Shilpi says, adding that she could dance all the way to work, a business that she built with her own hands.

During puja season, the air would throb with the sound of dhak-dhol, fireworks overhead, dancers moving in circles before the goddess Durga was immersed in the water. A young Saika would watch from the riverbank, memorising steps without knowing their names.

"At the end of Durga Puja, everyone would dance by the shore. I would come home and try the steps in front of the mirror. From then on, dance was always somewhere in my mind," she recalls.

Shilpi's family celebrated the rhythm of Bangali Hindu life, Baaro maash ey tero paarbon (13 festivals in 12 months), but dancing lessons were not a priority. One day, young Shilpi took matters into her own hands. She stole money from her mother's purse and enrolled herself in a dance class.

"All hell broke loose. Not because I wanted to dance, but because I stole," she recounts. Shilpi was disciplined for days, but the lesson stayed with her for a different reason. "My mother's support for my dancing prevailed. She just wanted me to be honest."

She carried dance with her throughout school and college. After graduating, she began teaching classical dance at a girls' school, while continuing to perform at cultural events. She saved every spare penny, dreaming of higher education in classical dance. She had a stable income, a growing reputation, and plans that stretched far beyond the riverbank.

Then she fell in love.

He was the older brother of one of her students, a professional dancer himself. "He found a way into my heart," Shilpi mentions. He pursued her for nearly two years before she agreed to marry him in her mid-20s. "And that is when the darkest chapter of my life began."

At first, the red flags were subtle. She continued living with her parents because her husband was unemployed and they could not afford their own place. Gradually, the truth surfaced. He was a drug addict, and had been one for years.

"Our marriage became a cycle of emotional, financial and physical abuse," she says. Still, she believed she could save it. "One thought kept coming back: if I tried hard enough, I could change him."

It felt like I had been immersed in ice-cold water for a long time. Suddenly, I could lift my head above the water and breathe. I remembered what it felt like to feel alive.

As Shilpi's husband could not hold down a job, she took on more work, teaching dance while also working as a receptionist to support them both. Opportunities came and went. She said nothing to her family about the abuse or the addiction. "I was focused on saving my marriage and the person I loved," she recalls.

Then she got pregnant.

"I had always heard people say pregnancy is a joyous moment. I was happy, but terrified," she says. Shilpi could not afford a private clinic and went to a public hospital instead. When her water broke, the baby was in a breech position. Doctors advised an immediate C-section, but she refused as she could not afford surgery.

The next eight hours were agony. "It was hot, white, blinding," she describes the pain. Doctors pleaded, her sisters begged, her parents sobbed, holding her hands. Her husband lay in a corner of the ward, high. Finally, the doctors forced her to consent to surgery.

When she woke up, a nurse placed a tiny bundle of joy in her arms. "I looked down and a pair of eyes looked back at me. It was the most beautiful face I had ever seen." At that moment, something shifted. "All the pain and heartbreak vanished."

She knew then what she had to do. "If I were to save one person, it would be my son. I had to save him from growing up in a dangerous, drug-filled household."

That evening, when her husband came to visit, sober at last, she asked him to leave. Calmly. Without drama. "I found my own steps again," she says.

The next year and a half were about rebuilding. Years of performing had given her an eye for beauty and detail. She realised makeup could become a livelihood. Shilpi enrolled in a six-month makeup artistry course under BRAC's skills development programme.

"It felt like I had been immersed in ice-cold water for a long time. Suddenly, I could lift my head above the water and breathe. I remembered what it felt like to feel alive," she says.

Photo: Courtesy

After completing the course, she rented a small room near her home and opened a beauty parlour. Her father bought her a used chair. Her sister bought a table. "Those were the first pieces of furniture in my establishment."

She named the establishment Shilpir Chhowa (Shilpi's Touch) Beauty Parlour.

Her first clients were neighbours, aunts, friends she had grown up with. Word spread quickly. "Soon, clients started pouring in, sometimes I pinched myself to check I was not dreaming."

She hired her sister as an accountant, mentored three young women, and began building a professional network. She joined the Rajshahi Beauty Parlour Owners' Association and later became a member of the Rajshahi Chamber of Commerce. She even represented her trade when the Ambassador of Nepal visited Rajshahi.

"I worked twice as hard to make up for all the time I had lost."

Today, Saika Khatun Shilpi is a beautician, entrepreneur, and business owner whose parlour is considered one of the best in the district. Her life revolves around her son, now nearly 10, who dreams of becoming a cricketer. 

"He loves playing cricket. I want to enrol him at the national sports institute," she says.

She also cares for her ageing parents, who now live with her. Family, once the silent witness to her suffering, has now become her anchor.

The Padma still flows through Rajshahi, unchanged. For Saika, it is a reminder. "It reminds me of everything I had to leave behind," she says, "to rebuild and come back stronger."

Her ambition now stretches beyond survival. She wants to expand Shilpir Chhowa until she is counted among the top 10 businesspeople in Rajshahi. She believes that day will come.

"I will find my way, so my son can see that women can dance just fine on their own," she says.