I sit on the porch of my villa, watching the ripples in the silvery stream that flows by. The serenity of the surroundings is in stark contrast to the turbulence that the weekend storm had unleashed on the East Coast a few days ago. My grandson gathers the broken branches and twigs as my grand daughter rakes down the dead leaves. I wave to them and they smile back. As my trembling hands clumsily clasp the arms of the chair, and I bend forward, I see my ghastly reflection on the glass top of the table. I look like a crumpled piece of paper; the wrinkled muscles are testimony that life is nearing its impending end. I manage a wry smile as I blow out of my toothless mouth. A strand of grey hair falls down from my receding hairline. I accidentally drop my prayer beads, and only with significant effort am I able to bend and pick them up from the edges of the chapped nails of my crooked toes. Feeling a little exhausted, I sit down. As I scratch on my freckled nose, my eyes water. I forcibly close them and drift away to sound sleep.
The audience greets my arrival at the Central Theatre. They have been waiting for a glimpse of me for weeks. The tickets have apparently been sold at ten times the price. As I step out of the car I hear wild screams, and people blow kisses. I wave to the crowd, my perfectly manicured hands flashily captured by the shutterbugs. I enter the theatre, which is packed to the hilt – with men dressed in expensive suits and women resplendent in blinding diamond necklaces. I look at the audience with both pride and nonchalance. I flash my sparkling white teeth as the audience’s attention focuses on me. Hardly breaking into a sweat, I rotate my eyeballs as my eyelashes shield them from the dazzling lights. My eyebrows dance to the tune of the soothing music and the pinkness of my cheeks enhances my facial expressions. My neck is turned downwards. I move my hands and my thumb clasps the thin end of my index finger. My gestures symbolise the unison of my hands and the face. In perfect sync, I spin in all splendour. I am the greatest dancer that ever lived, I tell myself, cocooning my vanity inside my silky strands of talent. Every applause, every sign of appreciation, marvels me. My legs springboard on my toes as I stand up on one foot, the other bent backwards. I go down on my knees, bending my waist, as every muscle of my body evokes poetry in action. The curves of my bosom and the square ends of my shoulders move rhythmically to the commands of the rest of my body. The cries of ‘Encore’ emanate from the aisles as my inner voice says, “I am a star. No one can take this away from me. My charm will never be obliterated.” I am tapped on my right shoulder by someone whom I have seen only on television. I bend my knees in reverence as I mutter, “Thank you, Your Majesty”. The Queen has generous words to say as I control my tears of joy. The touch on the shoulder becomes vigorous and it jolts me. I open my eyes to see my grandson calling out to me loudly, “Wake up, Grandma. Christmas Lunch. Everyone is waiting for you.” I slowly return to the present.
My grandson holds me by my hand and I help myself to my feet, prodding the walking stick on the ground as I take baby steps towards the living room that has been decorated for Christmas. The lunch gathering greets me with loud cheers…though not quite similar to the crowd that shouted for me at the entrance of the Grand Theatre. I know that I am respected and adulated not because I am a star, but because I am the oldest living woman in town. I wave to them, as the glimpses of my entering the theatre flash before me. I look at the giant mirror in the living room…it does not lie. As I retire into my room for my siesta, I wish I could go back to the Grand Theatre once more. I hope that the next dream would last forever, and I would never to be jolted out of it by anyone. Little do I know that my wish is about to be granted. My grandson places a red rose on my grave mound as he reads aloud from the Epitaph that has been written for me: ‘She Once Danced’.
The writer is a renowned Kuchipudi danseuse and choreographer
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