O moon, listen to me…

A man in love. :) One of the easiest things to talk about and hardest to depict. You don’t want to make him into a caricature, nor make him so subtle that the girl will miss his overtures. But its harder when you are a girl yourself. You have played to death, the girl in love. Her coyness, her demure smiles, creating images of jasmine-d plaits and cotton chequered sarees –

 

Now to bring a man to life. And do justice to the poet. 

 

“Kanden manam kollai…”

It is harder than I thought. To cease to be 5 feet tall. To cease to be a woman. To let the audience forget who you are. They must see only the man, lost in his love, telling the moon of the vision he saw today. With her darting eyes and long slender arms, her saree rustling as she walks, her bangles tinkling – a vision she is. The most beautiful one he ever saw. And then to be him – to feel like him, to do what he would do, to tell it like he would tell – to make her shimmer before the audience’s eyes, just like he can see her. I haven’t worked this hard before!

Polishing your technique isn’t hard. Its hard on the body, but its still so simple. You practice, over and over again. But to be another person, not play-act – to be the lyrics. That’s hard. But so much fun. To watch you lose yourself bit by bit, and find a different you. And then to watch the audience smile and cry with you.

Its wonderful being a dancer.

 

What He Said

O did I not think of you?
and thinking of you,
did I not think and think again of you?
and even as I thought of you
was I not baffled
by the world’s demands
that held me to my work?

O love, did I not think of you,
and think of you till I wished
I were here to sate my passion
till this flood of desire
that once wet the branch of the tall tree
would thin
till I can bend and scoop a drink of water
with my hands?
Auvaiya:r (Kuruntokai 99)

 

 

Achy feet

I am strolling about, hunting for the store that will give me my first pair of ballet slippers, eager to find it fast, half-scared they will sense I am not one of them, and not let me have the pink pair. 

I have always wanted to be a ballerina. Most girls do, at some point. I would keep bringing the same book from the library – just to read about the ballets, or see girls in pretty tutus, in breath-taking poses. And I yearned to be one of them.

I am not in a bad place – I dance Bharatanatyam, I love it – and it is a big part of me now, in the way I think. But ballet has always been the one thing I badly wanted.

And then I got a chance.

I was told there are no pink slippers in my size. I will have to buy the black ones. I am telling myself, I am an adult, learning the art is more important than the colour of your shoes, black is so slimming besides – not that I have fat feet..Mercifully, she found a pink pair at the bottom of the pile. I had never prayed so hard, nor thanked God so profusely before.

Buying those pink slippers was the most exciting shopping experience for me ever. Then, the going home and stitching elastic bands to it – being part of these tiny rituals that made a ballerina a ballerina – learning the french terms, executing awkward jumps and shaky pirouettes – there was not a person happier than me.

I dont get to attend ballet as often as I would like (I would like it everyday, and I have attended about four classes in half a year!), but I still stand before the mirror, practising my turnout, hoping very badly, that one day I will dance it.

“Plie is the first thing you learn and the last thing you master.” -Suzanna Farrell