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A dance in the Rain

Short story By: Gagan
Literary fiction

A story of a life, revealed in a day.

Submitted:Mar 19, 2012    Reads: 32    Comments: 9    Likes: 5   

Today, I saw a glimpse of what I have lost and what I have. A carefree, spirited, enthusiastic little kid showed it to me, when I silently observed him from a little window inside a closed room. He pulled out a 'Kashmiri Shawl', of his mother, tied it around his neck and started running and jumping under an open sky in the company of a free flowing breeze. His feet's knew no boundaries or instructions as he danced fearlessly without expectations or instructions. He was dancing in joy, to the music of rain, beats of heaven, to the whisper of wind and to the rhythm of tune which was played by his heart. This is what a dance can do, this what a dance should do and this is what it was doing to that little kid, as I saw it from a little window inside a closed room.

The unbothered, heartily, beaming, natural smile on his face was narrating the poetry of that moment, in which he was lost. That moment which is deprived of any fear or expectation, that moment which knows no failure or success, that moment which shines without the shadow of past or anticipation of future, that moment which was born on that particular moment itself, which keeps reminding our lost thoughts, that to avail the gift's of life, you must always be present. This is what dance can do, this is what a dance should do and this is what it was doing.

The rapture of the sound and elegance of his dance were not coming from the memory chambers of his mind, but were flowing from the unexpressed regions of his heart. Those steps were teaching me lessons, which I had forgotten in pursuits of my city dreams, in dressing myself with an attitude of conformity, putting up with the mannerism which was expected and burdening my self with the behavior which was appreciated. Somewhere, I had lost that spontaneity with which that child was teasing me.

Today my steps needed instructions, my performance was slave of appreciation, I want an approval for my ideas to move ahead, but that was not case with that little child, who was laughing, enjoying, singing and shouting without any audience, without any greed.

Listening to the clap of his hand and sound of his feet, I asked myself, what is it that has changed in me? Why I find these barriers imposed by society so strong, why I am not able to find my own lyrics to sing my own song, why the traditions of past are weighing me down, why I have to say the truth which I don't believe, why I have to participate in right, which I think is wrong. I asked these questions to myself, and I asked these questions straight from my heart- Was I too old to dance carelessly in the rain? Or Have I grown too much, to stop feeling that child again?

I closed my eyes and rested myself along the wall, dived inside my heart to reach the core. I saw, a group with familiar faces, some happy, some sad, some were looking at me with expectations and some had no expectations at all. There was one face that was looking at me from a distance, with tear in her eyes and smile on her face. But I didn't want to confront her today, as I want to find something deeper and something more profound, an image of self, which was lost in itself.


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