For dancers, there are few names that carry the weight of Blackpool.
For more than a century, the Blackpool Dance Festival has represented the highest level of ballroom and Latin dance. It is where the world’s leading dancers gather to test themselves against one another, where countless careers have been made, and where simply earning a place on the competition floor is often considered an achievement in itself.
This year, during the festival’s landmark 100th edition, Sri Lanka found its own place in that history. Tarja de Silva and Gihan Umesh became the first Sri Lankan partnership to win championship honours at the festival, claiming the Professional-Amateur (Pro-Am) Latin title against an international field. It is a milestone that few in the local dance community would have imagined possible a decade ago, particularly in a discipline that is still relatively young in Sri Lanka.
Yet when The Sunday Morning Brunch sat down with the pair, the conversation rarely lingered on the trophy itself. Instead, it moved between years of friendship, the discipline required to learn an entirely new dance language, and the quiet understanding that no victory, however historic, ever marks the end of the journey.
“To take part in a competition like that in itself is victory enough,” de Silva reflected. “But the fact that we won, especially at the 100th edition, is incredible.”
Although their names are now linked by a historic victory, de Silva and Umesh’s story began long before Blackpool.
“I’ve known Gihan since he was a teenager, since I walked into Muddrika Dance Studio more than 15 years ago,” de Silva recalled. “We’ve danced together in the same school, we’ve performed together in groups, and we’ve always been dear friends. But we’d never danced as a couple.”
The idea only began to take shape a few years ago, after de Silva, who is based in London, began teaching Latin ballroom in Sri Lanka. Working alongside Muddrika Dance Studio, she started training local dancers in a style that remains unfamiliar to many performers whose backgrounds lie in Sri Lanka’s traditional dance forms.
It was during that process that the two decided to compete together in the Pro-Am category. The format often causes confusion. In ballroom dance, a Pro-Am partnership pairs a professional with an amateur. While de Silva has spent years performing and teaching Latin ballroom professionally, Umesh entered as an amateur, not because he lacks experience as a dancer, but because Latin ballroom represents a new discipline within an already accomplished career.
“Gihan is already a professional dancer,” de Silva explained. “He’s a professional in his own field. But in Latin ballroom, he’s still learning. He isn’t teaching it yet, so in this style he’s considered an amateur.”
For Umesh, that distinction mattered far less than the opportunity itself. “Tarja was one of my icons,” he shared. “Blackpool has always been on my bucket list. This was my first international Latin ballroom competition and I still can’t believe I got to dance there.”
His route into dance began, like many Sri Lankan performers, with school productions before eventually leading him to Muddrika Dance Studio. There he immersed himself in Kandyan and low-country dance, eventually becoming one of the school’s senior teachers and choreographers. Latin ballroom arrived much later. “I’ve only been learning it seriously for about five years,” he said.
That willingness to step into something unfamiliar is one of the qualities de Silva admires most. “He’s one of Sri Lanka’s best male dancers,” she said. “But what impressed me was that he was always willing to try something completely different. He never said no.”
If the years leading to Blackpool unfolded slowly, the final stretch moved at an altogether different pace.
The pair had competed together once before. They did not win. Rather than seeing that result as a setback, they treated it as a lesson before their biggest challenge.
“We only had one month to prepare properly,” de Silva said. Umesh travelled to London, where the two settled into an intensive training routine.
“We trained every single day,” she said. “He probably only had one or two days off each week. Otherwise, we were dancing for about two-and-a-half hours every day.”
Neither performer was unfamiliar with pressure. Years on stage meant performing before an audience came naturally. Blackpool, though, demanded a different level of precision. “This calibre of competition is different,” de Silva said. “Everyone there belongs there.”
Even the dances themselves presented new challenges. “The samba was probably our weakest style because Gihan hadn’t had enough experience with it,” de Silva explained, adding that instead of accepting it as a weakness, they turned it into a focus. “We worked on it so much that it became one of our highest scoring dances. That says everything about his work ethic. He never says no. He always turns up.”
For Umesh, the process meant trusting someone who had already travelled the path he hoped to follow. “It was intense,” he said. “Everything was new to me. Tarja would keep correcting me, telling me to change this or do that. She helped me so much.”
By the time they arrived in Blackpool, the training had already reshaped the partnership. Winning simply became the final chapter.
Talk to either dancer long enough and another theme begins to emerge. Neither speaks about competition as a way of collecting titles. Instead, they describe it as a process of continual learning. “I like competing because it teaches you defeat,” de Silva said.
It is not the answer many expect from a champion. “There is politics. Sometimes things are unfair. You learn how to deal with disappointment. You learn to make the best of the opportunities you’re given.”
Those experiences, she believes, have made her a better teacher as much as a better performer. “You become more than a dance partner. You’re a teacher, you’re a mentor, you’re a friend. You learn how to support someone else through the process. It pushes you to become better.”
Umesh arrived at the same lesson from a different direction. “It builds confidence,” he said. “That’s why I wanted to compete. I wanted to challenge myself and push myself to the next level.”
As a teacher himself, he has watched young dancers become satisfied too early. “I have so many students who win one competition and then stop because they’ve won. You have to keep learning.”
His greatest lesson has come not from victory but from defeat. “Competition humbles you,” he said. “It’s not the wins. It’s the losses.”
De Silva agreed. “Our first competition together, we didn’t win,” she said. “We had to fight just to reach the final rounds.”
Perhaps that is why Blackpool carried so much weight. Not because it erased earlier disappointments, but because it grew from them. “You stand there waiting for the scoreboard,” she said. “Then you see where you are and you start thinking about what comes next.”
For both dancers, that thought arrives almost immediately. “This isn’t about being satisfied,” she said. “It’s about the next competition.”
Historic achievements are often described as individual triumphs, but both dancers are quick to point out how many people stood behind them.
They reserve special praise for Muddrika Swarnathilake, Founder of Muddrika Dance Studio, who first brought them together years ago and continued supporting them throughout their preparations.
“She’s the reason we met,” de Silva said. “Without her, neither of us would have achieved this. She supported Gihan throughout this entire journey. It takes an army to achieve something like this.”
Umesh was equally determined to share the credit. “I have to thank Tarja,” he said. “She believed in me from the beginning. She stood behind me through everything.”
Looking ahead, both hope to return to Blackpool. “We’d love to defend the title,” de Silva said. “You can win it as many times as you earn it.”
Umesh’s answer was shorter. “If Tarja is in,” he smiled, “I’m in.”
For Sri Lanka’s dance community, their victory has already become a milestone. It demonstrates that local dancers are capable of competing on one of the world’s most demanding stages and succeeding in a genre that is still finding its footing here.
For de Silva and Umesh, though, Blackpool is neither a destination nor a culmination. It is another reminder that growth rarely comes from standing still. Every rehearsal, every correction, every disappointment, and every competition becomes part of a much longer journey.
A century after Blackpool first opened its doors to the world’s dancers, two Sri Lankans walked away with a title. Their eyes, however, are already fixed on the next dance.
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