The Uproar of Silence

Note: I wrote this one long time back for a competition where I had to restrict the story to 500 words. Forgive me if it’s not very detailed and elaborate. 

“The Uproar of Silence” was the headline in a leading newspaper with a photograph of a girl in her early teens posing as incandescent Natraja. It was Aruna, a Bharathanatyam dancer and a different one in that kind.

Pavithra, Aruna's best friend, looked thoroughly excited when she waved the paper in front of Aruna's eyes. Aruna snatched it and looked at her photograph, tears falling thick and fast on the paper as she did it. She pressed it to her chest and hugged Pavithra.

With the paper, Pavithra ran towards the small out-house where Aruna lived with her father. Aruna slumped in front of the statue of Natraja and travelled back in memory.

“I touched the majestic statue and like every other day, I felt goose bumps. I wiped his dancing feet and found solace. I touched the hand that carried fire and felt peaceful. I observed his stance and imitated the same.

I felt a strong hand touch my shoulder and turned, flabbergasted. It was my boss, Dance Master Parameshwaran. Scared out of my wits, I took refuge behind the God I adored.

He smiled kindly and gestured at me, “Thats okay. Come out.”

I walked around the statue slowly and stood in front of him, head bowed. He knelt down and gestured at me again, “Do you want to learn to dance?”

I didn't know how he would be able to teach dance to a girl like me, who didn't know what sound is all about. I felt elated nevertheless and ran away to my house.

At home, my father gave me a dirty look that plainly wished me a painful death. He cannot be blamed because,

We were extremely poor;

My mother died while I was born;

I can neither hear nor speak;

I am a girl;

I was nothing short of a burden to him.

From the next day, I started a blissful journey of dancing with my Guru and his daughter Pavithra. First, I had to understand the concept of rhythm which proved to be a herculean task. I observed the way my Guru played the cymbals, his lip movements for the associated syllables and Pavithra's harmonized leg, hand and eye movements. Slowly, with their help, I started feeling the rhythm within me and also saw various new patterns of it in anything and everything people did.

Though I did not have the sound of voice, the voice of expressions was natural to me. With the help of my Guru, my raw expressions got transformed into a soulful language of emotions.

After 8 years of rigorous training, my Guru confidently put me on the limelight and today, I dedicate this milestone to him and my friend Pavithra.”

Aruna's father rushed into the hall and begged for forgiveness. The girl whom he detested had proved that she can make wonders with life. Tears welling up his eyes, he carried her on his shoulders for the first ever time and ran around the street, boasting about her happily.

---Bala Iyengar---