Dance of the Soul

" I walked towards the stage. I was nervous with the sari and all that jewellery on me. I looked at Harish, he had this ever-comforting smile on his face. I tried to smile back. But I was finding it difficult to do so. I stood in a corner, nearly sweating.

I looked at the audience, they all glared back at me. I thought I was the center of the world. I adjusted my necklace, closed my eyes and posed in the initial mudraa of the dance I was about to present.

I kept waiting. But the dance hadn't begun. My teacher was saying something to the person in the music room.

Harish signaled me to relax and stand at ease. Perhaps, there was some problem with the music. The nervousness only increased.

Minutes seemed like hours - though at the end of it I got to know that the music was finally about to start.

Then, I forgot the world. I forgot that I was on the stage. I danced. with all my might and dedication. I danced like the world revolved around me. I danced to the Krishna bhajan with the devotion of a gopi who madly loved him. Of a mortal human who was offering her talent to the one who gave her that talent.

I forgot the troublesome times I had had. I forgot the nights of frustration I had undergone. I forgot the tension in my mother's eyes throughout my childhood. I forgot the fact that I could not hear the music at all. I forgot the fact, that I had an hearing impairment. I was dancing to the music that was playing in my body.

The music of the lub-dub of my heart. The sound of the breath. The vibrations of the ghungroo. I was dancing. To the tune of my soul.

And nothing else mattered..."


I happened to attend a dance performance by an extremely talented danseuse who was auditorily impaired. This is just an imaginary account of what she must have felt during the performance which ended with a standing ovation to the sheer determination of this performer.