On the way to the Super Star Hall in Andheri on the metro, I noticed the person in front of me absently scrolling through reels — until one made her stop. It featured two girls dancing to the viral hook step of Shararat from the film Dhurandhar. She watched it on a loop, as though mesmerized. That is the thing about a truly great piece of choreography: it cuts through. The man behind those moves, Vijay A Ganguly, just won The Iconic Gold Awards 2026 for the same dance on February 18.

Ganguly, 45, walks into the second-floor of the dance studio dressed in a black sweatshirt, denim jeans, and black-and-white sneakers. He greets his team with enthusiasm, and immediately joins a brainstorming session for a patriotic track in an upcoming film. “When creating the choreography for this song, I want to do something that even soldiers stationed at the border in freezing temperatures could dance to,” says the Worli resident.

A meticulous process guides how each song eventually unfolds on screen. “There is always a plan before hitting the set,” Ganguly says, noting the importance of research and alignment with the director and actors. Yet, he remains open to the occasional lightning strike of spontaneity.

He points to a viral moment in Dhurandhar, where Akshaye Khanna’s Rehman Dakait character dances to Sher-e-Baloch. “That wasn’t planned. He just started dancing, and we kept the camera rolling.”

For Shararat, the creative groundwork began eight months before the first day of shooting, he says. Director Aditya Dhar provided a steady stream of reference videos to help Ganguly deconstruct the specific nuances of Balochistani wedding celebrations. Typically, at festive gatherings, these celebrations include folk dances like Chaap and Do-Chapi, which are performed in circles with rhythmic clapping and coordinated steps, often to the beat of dohol and sorna. What the film captured, Ganguly says, represents only a fraction of the energy festive Balochi dances can generate.

“What we have filmed represents only about 30 per cent of the energy that goes into it,” Ganguly says. He recalls footage of women jumping off stages, falling, then springing back up, an atmosphere he describes as “pumping with energy.” The task was to translate that raw, communal intensity into something cinematic without losing its force.

The resulting video has since amassed over 200 million views on YouTube, with the hook step being recreated globally—a clear metric of success. The impact, however, didn’t end at the steps; it was in the utility of the design. “The costumes couldn’t be revealing, but a sharara would have restricted the choreography, so we added a slit for mobility,” Ganguly reveals.

This was a relatively easy assignment, he says of Shararat, noting the final step was a mix of two options chosen by Aditya Dhar. In contrast, he designed 32 versions for Stree 2’s Aaj Ki Raat. Despite his fame in dance, editing remains his true passion: “I edit all my songs myself; Shararat was 90 per cent cut by me on my little laptop.”

Being on set comes naturally to him, as he grew up watching his father, filmmaker Anil Ganguly, at work. “My sister Rupali and I would accompany my father and seeing how everyone listened to him on set made me want to do the same or at least something similar,” he admits. He appeared in several of his father’s films, including Saaheb, Dushman Devta, and Sadak Chap, absorbing the rhythms of production long before he understood them.

Performance, however, did not begin with easy validation. “When I was ten and wanted to take part in my school play, I auditioned to Everybody Dance with Pa Pa Pa by Mithun uncle, but my teacher rejected me and told me I didn’t have it in me to be a dancer.” The verdict lingered. For years, performance slipped into the background, returning later by chance.

In 1999, he walked into Shiamak Davar’s academy to submit the fee cheque for his sister’s class. The receptionist assumed it was for him and enrolled him instead. Persuaded to try one session, he started at the back of a beginner’s batch, caught Davar’s attention and stayed on, eventually teaching there for 13 years.

In 2013, he left to pursue films. “That’s when my struggle started again — my father had told me at 18, ‘Find yourself; I won’t make calls for you.’”

He waited outside offices for any job he may land. Jagga Jasoos, a four-year musical, shifted his trajectory. Close to quitting in 2016, he held on after his father reminded him, “Time se pehle kisi ko kuch nahi milta.” Galti Se Mistake became his breakthrough and won him the 2018 Filmfare Award.

Ganguly is clear that he does not believe in a formula. “One of my favourite works remains Main Parwaana from Pippa because it blended jazz with Bollywood.” It did not go viral. Not everything does.

In an industry where dance is often linked to names like Farah Khan or the late Saroj Khan, Ganguly maintains, “When it comes to dance, there is no gender.” He points to Chaka Chak from Atrangi Re as proof. As COVID restrictions thinned his team, assistant Abhishek Pai became the reference for the entire routine. “We had to set the song immediately and Abhishek became the blueprint for it,” he says. The result became one of the film’s most recognizable numbers.

Now, Ganguly champions what he calls expression-led dancing, inspired by Govinda, where a fleeting facial reaction can outshine an elaborate step. His guiding principle comes from his father: treat the crew with respect. “People leave their families and work long hours for you. If they are there for you, that day should feel worth it.” should feel worth it and you must treat them with respect.”

Once closed off to anything beyond choreography, he is now open to whatever cinema offers, be it acting, producing, directing, or simply learning the art of lighting a scene. “After all,” he says, “choreography was never the plan, yet it became my calling.”