The school garden was the home of a variety of flowers, some standing tall and proud like the sun flowers, some vivacious and passionate like the hibiscus, and some, modest, shy and seemingly servile, like the pretty violets, but each, adding beauty and colour to the landscape in their own way. Lasya inched towards the room where the classical dance classes were conducted after school hours. She had a good half hour to kill before her “auto-man” would come to pick her up. Being a diffident recluse, she often spent this time playing by herself, or reading a book, until the day she was drawn by the sound of the “thaiya-thais” and “thaka-dhimis”, wafting from the dance room. She had followed those sounds, which rose and fell in a sing-song way, in perfect tandem with the beats provided by a stick. It was alluring like a lullaby, but not in a calming way – the crisp jathis infusing energy with every beat, starting slow, but moving with calculated precision towards a crescendo. Lasya had been mesmerized by this alchemy of music, beats and graceful movements and since then had never missed watching the class. Being timid by nature, she used to furtively hang outside the class, peeking through the gaps in the door hinges and windows, making sure no one spotted her. But every evening thus spent, only fuelled the desire in her to learn this wonderful art that gave her so much joy.
Today, the dance teacher was teaching a new step to the class. The step looked complex, but when executed with perfection by her teacher, the beautiful symmetry of the lines, gave it a touch of elegance and simplicity. The graceful movements – fluidic yet tense… the hands, feet, eyes, fingers, the torso – all moving in perfect harmony with each other and with the music and beats, together on a purposeful journey towards a bigger whole. Lasya was transported to her world of magic. The more she realized how badly she missed being in this class, the greater her yearning to be part of it – it was like a vicious cycle, each feeding into the other. The dance teacher saw a small little girl at the door. The girl, looking eager and nervous, asked with a shy smile – Ma’am, could I please join your class?
In the school garden, a violet bud, that was hidden within a protective veil of leaves, mustered courage to blossom. It appeared, beautiful and fresh, breaking through the protective embrace of her siblings, not in antagony but in earnest curiosity. It was no longer the “shrinking violet”.
