Those of us who attended Dance Marathon in the EMU this past Saturday probably received the shock of our lives.
As a Eugene teen dance company by the name of Project Soul finished its performance at around 4:45 p.m., their director Lindsey Shields grabbed the microphone and informed the crowd of 300 that the group was going to do a freestyle dance session.
“It definitely wasn’t planned,” Shields said. “But instantly in my mind, I knew who would be the perfect person to start it off.”
She looked toward the tiniest person on the stage: a 13-year-old Indian boy by the name of Bakul Willard, who, because of some growth delay issues, looked a lot more like an elementary student than a teenager.
He showed no apprehension: The look in his eyes, rather, that fire pouring from his pupils, made it very clear we were all in for the dance of a lifetime that would remind us big things can come in small packages.
Before coming to America, Bakul had no parents, no stability and lived in an orphanage in India. Even then he was well behind the growing curve — at four years old, he weighed 19 pounds.
The average weight for four-year-olds? About 38.
Nancy Willard remembers seeing his image on an online adoption website, and, after about a month of looking at his picture, feeling a motherly attachment.
“I decided that he was mine, and I needed to go get him,” Willard said. Bakul has since called Nancy and her two children his family, and Eugene his home.
Much better than being alone in an orphanage, I’m sure.
While he left most of the troubles and pains he experienced behind in India, one thing stuck with him: his height.
“We’re not sure why he’s not growing,” Willard said. At the age of 13, he is four feet flat and 45 pounds.
Bakul discovered what he loved to do most when he was in second grade. After scoring a soccer goal in a game, he broke out into a dance and the crowd thought it was cute. So, Bakul kept on doing it, and that eventually lead to him dancing all over the place.
When asked how often he practices dancing, Bakul replied, “anytime, probably,” followed by a tiny little giggle that beamed with confidence.
Bakul dances in his room.
Bakul dances in his front yard.
Bakul dances for his mom’s friends.
Sometimes Bakul will even be at school and turn on his iPod to start working on his moves (not during class, of course).
“He just gets it,” Shields said. “He’s a natural talent.” Shields has been surprised by how much time he puts into dance at such a young age and how much attention to detail he has.
He tries to hit every tick and every click of the beat.
Today, Bakul is a dancer in Project Soul, a dance company that practices at the Musical Feet School of Dance. He is the only boy in the group and the smallest in stature. But that doesn’t stop him from making himself right at home.
On his first day meeting the group, he jumped right in and showed them all just what he was made of.
“Here was this little guy who clearly looks a lot younger than he is, and he hit it and just rocked it,” Shields said.
Bakul has found a friend in dance and has been a surprise package for anyone who sees him perform.
Just ask anyone who was at Dance Marathon that magical Saturday night.
As Shields cued the DJ to drop the beat, time seemed to slow down. The crowd cheered in anticipation, the children on stage looked confidently into the crowd and Shields locked eyes with Bakul, almost as if to say, “Man, you got this.”
Then the moment came: the beat dropped.
Bakul instantly began gracefully sliding his black Velcro sneakers across the stage, all the while pop-locking his arms in every direction. The bursts of cheers grew louder and louder with every movement, and Bakul’s movements grew sharper and sharper with each burst of cheers.
In just 30 seconds, the little Indian kid with the stunted growth slid, grooved and moonwalked his way to becoming the biggest man in the show.
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