The Dancer’s Secret

Swathi_What might be a dancer’s secret?
What is the only thing that she frets?
Is it the wrong step or turn that eludes her?
Or is it the willfully audience blur?
 She moves, she smiles
She turns, she shies
Her step forward is an expansion of her energy
Her step back is to keep the audience off their seats
Not dancing to the song but making the song beat
With her grace and composure
Her skill and her posture
Unless her thunderous applause
Her dance is not complete
For this is the monumental fete
Where the looks of enchantment
With the smile of enhancement
Makes your smile and joy cushion her feet
For whichever song or whichever step old or new
A dancer’s secret is always the audience, is always you


The Cold Indian Romance Part 6

Are you at peace? Rather are you at peace with yourself? Are you content with what you have? Did you forgive yourself?

These don’t occur as questions but appear to be volatile feelings bubbling inside you early in the morning. I am afraid of being happy I guess or to be at peace.

“This is a bad mixture early in the morning, not healthy”, I say to myself.

I wake up to hear the quietness of the house, it’s the most beautiful symphony you would ever hear: The clock ticking the very time you have in this world, the birds chirping waking up one another and fussing over for a few more minutes of rest, the cold breeze finding its way through the rug giving a chilling peck to the warmth stuck to your body, the Goosebumps which emerge after that and finally to hear your thoughts aloud in the house yet no one hears it. Is this what you call “peace”, not knowing how the day goes by but knowing that how you start the day by getting pampered and cushioned by Mother Nature herself?

I could relax for few more hours but here comes the bounded chain of “duty”. It is my duty to get the Milk for the house and also the newspaper for madam. It takes some getting used to because during the initial stages the motivation differs every morning. I get up, freshen myself up, clear my comfort and go through the back door. The view is impeccable, the mist and the sunrise add such color to the scene. Its dead cold, luckily aunty had given me one of her husband’s old jacket and gloves which fit in a way. I walk down the road and keep walking until I see a small hut. The hut is bustling with life at such an early hour. You have people on the right smoking and having their morning Chai (Tea) conversing and on the left the gentlefolk who read their newspapers sipping their Chai (Tea). I get the Dainik Jagaran as madam prefers it and two bottles of milk (One for madam and one for Fanny). But after all that I have my chai and just soak in the atmosphere. I observe the people and hear their conversations.

I see the watch on the wooden pillar, its six and I need to get back. I walk the up, now it seems a little tiring due to the cold and a little drowsiness. But I make it panting my way into the residence only to see Fanny on the porch giving me a dangerous look. I’m too exhausted to put up a fight so I hold up the milk bottle high as a sign of truce; she gets the message and lets me pass. Madam is still sleeping. She has a habit of getting up late now that I’m around. I boil the milk, give some milk to fanny in her special bowl, boil an egg for madam, keep the table ready and prepare myself for the rest of the day as well.

After the morning chores are done, it’s time to innovate. I have a lot of priorities to respond to. Such as:

Getting to know the locality, exploring the town, making peace with Fanny, thinking about farming, trying not to think about her or maybe I can go to her uncle and thank him and tell him about how settled I am, but no she wouldn’t like that; it’s best not to test her fury.

(Just a recap of the previous parts)

The kingdom of the Bees