A/N: Jai Sri Hari! Great to see you here, greater to know that you intend to read my post 🙃 Your constant love and support means so much to me, beyond what words can convey, This post of mine is slightly different from the others- unlike most of my stories and poems, this is both- a rhyme that conveys a story. I will warn you, though, it is a bit long. I considered splitting it into two given its length, however, since the challenge required one post to be published, Voila! I sincerely hope it is worth your time. Meet you at the end!
Once in a solemn land lived a little girl
A little girl who lived all her life in a dance attire.
Be it swollen feet or an aching back
She’d dance even in circumstances dire.
For it was what set her free
It was what set her apart
Apart from the hundred souls shedding tears
Who would scream at her, “Bless her little heart!”
Her golden anklets would tinkle across the dusty wooden floors
Singing a sweet and gentle, moving lullaby
That set to sleep even Indra himself
While she’d dance like a tiny apsara- only more coy and shy.
Yet one day, the little girl looked uncomfortable
As her feet scurried across the dance floor
She didn’t like that anxious feeling while she danced
And so she turned and ran out the door.
She did dance after that in merry amusement
But a fear of judgement tugging at her little heart
And one day when someone laughed at her dance
From dancing she set herself apart.
It was only years after in a dancing competition at her little school
Did she look up and decided to give it a try
She smiled amongst her sweet friends who wished for her to come
To come and in the lap of dancing once more lie.
She refused to try anklets’ classical dance though
It had been years after all.
So she tried herself to western music beats-
And time and nervousness she did stall.
She no longer felt that she could dance
And envy filled her little face
As she watched thin and tall girls dance and laugh
Without of a mistake any trace.
She looked into the reflection on a window
She felt fat and small.
Her hands seemed not to move in ecstasy
Her feet didn’t seem to want to give their all.
She tried to get out of it,
But hush, here came her row’s chance, it was too late,
And her group flexed out the moves that her teacher gave
Imagine her surprise when her teacher said that they did great.
The little girl sat with a smile so wide
It lightened her sweet little rosy cheeks
And so did the little girl laugh imagining herself dancing
With her friends for the next few weeks.
But it was the next day that broke her
For when she was called upon to dance solo and alone
The little girl was overcome by anxiety
She had no dancing skills- what was she to hone?
Her hands and feet tangled themselves
And it was fair to call her dance a mess.
Imagine her state when the teacher asked
If she had not been selected but was still here, to confess.
The little girl’s eyes filled with tears,
And she withdrew from the where she was mistaken contest.
For what was a dancing to her anymore,
When she was bad at it while amazing were the rest?
She tried to dance after that, that little girl
But she hated it, it was to no avail.
But years after, one day with her sister in the dark
Her dancing skills picked up, although old and frail.
She still knew not what to do with her hands
And reluctant and unsure to move were her feet
But that day, the girl danced in the dark
Her body swaying to the musical beat.
The little girl still doesn’t like dancing though she can do it
She chooses to let her pen dance for her instead
And let me tell you all a little secret, she’s a writer
And the little girl and I shared the same little head.
People ask me now why I dance not
I just laugh and turn and smile away
For I too dance to the tunes of life
To her hard and soft beats, my soul does sway.
And so does yours,
For it is what set us us free-
Dancing, it sets us free.
A/N: This is by far the one and only personal post I’ve shared here, even if it is nothing compared to others, I too wanted to share an incident that made me feel free. For years, I envied dancers and their beautiful abilities, but now I can only admire them for it, for I have not much skill in it myself. The fact is, we all stand upon the stage of the world, each dancing with in own, unique style. I too dance, but let my pen do it for me. Your love, it dances across icebergs in Antarctica, sand dunes of the Sahara, a starry midnight sky, and shoots itself like an arrow into my heart. For your love, it is free.
And thanks to Him, so am I. So are you. So is this world, pulling upon a string of freedom that keeps it going.
Stay Happy Forever!