THE MUSIC
of
APPLAUSE
My trembling fingers pin the free end of my dance sari
over the left shoulder of my blouse.
One last time I stretch each leg out, flex and point my bare feet,
wiggle my toes to ease tense muscles.
Every seat in the auditorium is filled.
The air twangs with expectation like a veena’s taut string.
Last of twelve competitors,
I’m hiding behind the wings, waiting.
I watch Kamini finish up her routine.
She twirls in a tight circle and comes to a stop,
bare feet to the sides, knees bent outward,
holding a diamond-shaped space between her legs.
As Kamini walks offstage,
Uday anna’s mouth shapes the harsh words
“Not fast enough,”
though she looked flawless to me.
Kamini’s lips quiver, but I have no time to worry about her.
I’m next.
The velvet curtain,
crimson as the thick lines of alta painted on my feet,
shudders apart.
Hands at my waist, I march out
keeping perfect time to the crisp, clear commands
of Uday anna’s cymbals.
The rows of brass bells on my anklets
vibrate to the rhythm of the mridangam drummer.
My skin tingles as I step into the music,
give in to the icy thrill of pleasure
that spreads through me whenever I dance,
the pleasure of leaping into a cool lake on a sweltering day.
The music swells and strengthens like a flood.
Waves of song pulse through my body.
I love portraying Shiva,
who, through the steps of His eternal dance,
creates and destroys universes.
I whirl across the stage,
stop to balance on one leg,
holding the other behind me with both arms,
my body bent outward, bow-shaped.
A burst of applause encourages me.
Steps quickening, I build to the climax.
A rope of anxiety and excitement twists in my stomach
as I assume the most daring pose in my routine:
my vertical split.
What if I don’t “pull it off”?
I must. I will.
I hold my pose.
Frenzied clapping breaks out,
applause so sweet and strong I can taste it,
sweet and strong as South Indian coffee.
A fresh bolt of energy shoots through my veins
as I hear the music of a crowd
clapping just for me.