Revival of the Fittest

As I type this post here, I feel like a dancer who's entering the auditorium after a long time. Dressed in deep blue, she looks at the lights piercing into her eyes. She looks at the stage glowing like a glistering beach. She puts up her left hand and with her right hand, takes a spin.

With the spin, flashes come back to her. Flashes of a spoilt performance. Flashes of a sprained ankle. Flashes of a lover distanced because she had no time for him. She hardly completes one circle around herself and sits down on the stage. The lights on the stage go off. Just one spotlight on her.

**

Then she gets back. Stands on one leg this time with the other leg bent. She throws her hands in the air and closes her eyes. She recollects the euphoria - the thundering applause, the stage vibrating with every footstep of hers as if it were a part of her own body. She remembers her dancing self moving to every lub-dub of the heart that the stage is. The drop of sweat rising from the back of her neck makes way down her spine. She spins twice in succession and covers the entire stage. She is the queen of the stage today. She puts down her hands and throws a glance at the empty chairs.

She is short of breath and opens her mouth slightly. Without her knowledge, the sides of her lips stretch into a smile. A gush of energy fills her again. While she is ruling the stage, she is ruling the auditorium too.

**

You can revive a passion only if you get up even after the lights on the stage have gone off.

**

I get up on this stage too.