There was applause. There was noise. There was music. There was the fragrance of excitement and anxiety in the air. And there she was, standing silently in the midst of the commotion around her. Now and then she would smile silently at a comment a fellow participant passed, or advise one of her team mates about one thing or the other. But apart from that there wasn't much she wanted to say or do.
Una Paloma Blancaaaa
I'm just a bird in the sky..
Una Paloma Blancaaa
Over the mountains I fly
No one can take my freedom away...
She was back in the 5th grade, wearing a sparkling white frock, with a band of paper flowers around her head. Like a little white duckling she had pranced on to the stage and in front of the not so silent audience. For how could the audience even be silent? It was full of parents awaiting their child's performance,when their tiny tot would showcase his or her talent in front of the packed auditorium and make them proud!
It had felt so effortless. The smile on her face refused to fade.It felt natural, the dance steps seemed to be engraved inside her head, her own and not part of a choreography. The stage was hers and she was the star, the beautiful little duckling who paved her way into the hearts of so many who couldn't stop "Aww"ing over her...
And then, she had never turned back. The applause became an addiction. But more than that, all she had wanted was growth. Improvement. And several other achievements. She had grown after each performance, absorbing something or the other from each practice session. Some days were wonderful, others not so fruitful. She was reprimanded, made to practice for hours at a stretch. She had fainted, wounded her elbows and knee caps. The scars still remain,reminding her of the joy of learning each time she looks at them, and not of the pain and unpleasantness. Each time someone remarks upon her scarred shins, she proudly announces "Oh these? My dance practices gave them to me!"
It had grown from a pass time, to a hobby, to her passion, and then, something beyond it. The backstage had become her trusted friend, the wings had comforted her each time anxiety had gotten the better of her.
"The Jazz Group. You're up next" had become words she was so familiar with that she could whisper them under her breath, in perfect coordination with the teacher who made the announcement.
Years had passed. People now knew her as "the dancer". They knew her signature steps, her expressions seemed familiar. And as for her, everytime she walked on to The Stage, she knew she was back home. She now knew it as well as she knew the back of her hand. She felt a sense of belonging, as if it was HERS. The Stage had given her all that people hadn't. It had given her a reason to live, to laugh. It had given her the opportunity to be herself and no one else. It had given so much and never asked anything in return. And now was the time. To thank it, and to give back :)
For a person who saw her at that point of time, it would have seemed as if she was going over her dance routine in her head. Alas, they had it all wrong! For as soon as the wings had welcomed her back into their warm,comforting arms, winning or losing had no longer mattered. She knew that as soon as she stepped on to the wooden stage that she loved so much, all her worries, anxieties, all her frustration and fears would vanish. All the anger, the hopelessness, the determination to win that she had felt during the practices would no longer hold any importance. It was her time to shine, to show them all that the little duckling had grown into a White Swan, who was ready to spread her wings and fly away. It was her time to pay homage to the stage that had nurtured her and given her the confidence to stand with her head held up high. Moments before her very last performance, the song that played in her head wasn't the one she was supposed to dance to in a few minutes. It was the one that she had danced to in a sparkling white frock,years ago. Of her very first.
Una Paloma Blancaaaa
I'm just a bird in the sky..
Una Paloma Blancaaa
Over the mountains I fly
No one can take my freedom away...
She was back in the 5th grade, wearing a sparkling white frock, with a band of paper flowers around her head. Like a little white duckling she had pranced on to the stage and in front of the not so silent audience. For how could the audience even be silent? It was full of parents awaiting their child's performance,when their tiny tot would showcase his or her talent in front of the packed auditorium and make them proud!
It had felt so effortless. The smile on her face refused to fade.It felt natural, the dance steps seemed to be engraved inside her head, her own and not part of a choreography. The stage was hers and she was the star, the beautiful little duckling who paved her way into the hearts of so many who couldn't stop "Aww"ing over her...
Una Paloma Blancaaaa
I'm just a bird in the sky..
Una Paloma Blancaaa
Over the mountains I fly
And then, she had never turned back. The applause became an addiction. But more than that, all she had wanted was growth. Improvement. And several other achievements. She had grown after each performance, absorbing something or the other from each practice session. Some days were wonderful, others not so fruitful. She was reprimanded, made to practice for hours at a stretch. She had fainted, wounded her elbows and knee caps. The scars still remain,reminding her of the joy of learning each time she looks at them, and not of the pain and unpleasantness. Each time someone remarks upon her scarred shins, she proudly announces "Oh these? My dance practices gave them to me!"It had grown from a pass time, to a hobby, to her passion, and then, something beyond it. The backstage had become her trusted friend, the wings had comforted her each time anxiety had gotten the better of her.
"The Jazz Group. You're up next" had become words she was so familiar with that she could whisper them under her breath, in perfect coordination with the teacher who made the announcement.
Years had passed. People now knew her as "the dancer". They knew her signature steps, her expressions seemed familiar. And as for her, everytime she walked on to The Stage, she knew she was back home. She now knew it as well as she knew the back of her hand. She felt a sense of belonging, as if it was HERS. The Stage had given her all that people hadn't. It had given her a reason to live, to laugh. It had given her the opportunity to be herself and no one else. It had given so much and never asked anything in return. And now was the time. To thank it, and to give back :)
For a person who saw her at that point of time, it would have seemed as if she was going over her dance routine in her head. Alas, they had it all wrong! For as soon as the wings had welcomed her back into their warm,comforting arms, winning or losing had no longer mattered. She knew that as soon as she stepped on to the wooden stage that she loved so much, all her worries, anxieties, all her frustration and fears would vanish. All the anger, the hopelessness, the determination to win that she had felt during the practices would no longer hold any importance. It was her time to shine, to show them all that the little duckling had grown into a White Swan, who was ready to spread her wings and fly away. It was her time to pay homage to the stage that had nurtured her and given her the confidence to stand with her head held up high. Moments before her very last performance, the song that played in her head wasn't the one she was supposed to dance to in a few minutes. It was the one that she had danced to in a sparkling white frock,years ago. Of her very first.
Una Paloma Blancaaaa
I'm just a bird in the sky..
Una Paloma Blancaaa
Over the mountains I fly..
