Life, dreams and inspiration
The music stopped and I cavorted gracefully to take a bow. The audience was on its feet and the thundering applause went on and on. I bowed with folded hands repeatedly, basking in the love and appreciation being showered on me as I realized that I had arrived as a dancer.
The realization took me back in time to when I was a six year old, shyly hiding behind my mother as she escorted me to my dance classes. I was a shy kid but all my shyness seemed to evaporate when I danced. I dreamed about becoming a great dancer one day and had cajoled my mother to get me admitted to a dance school, which she actually did without much persuasion.
My mother got me enrolled in a dance class that was in another city. It was a renowned dance class and children from far and near came to attend the classes and gain dancing skills. I would now have to travel every weekend to attend the dance classes. I was happy and thought that I was well on my way to realizing my dreams of being a dancer, as I attended the Dance classes regularly and practiced religiously.
It was then that it happened.
On the face of it, it was trivial; just a twisting of my left ankle. But the pain was terrible and I was in agony. I did not go for my dance classes the next day and the day after that, in fact I did not go to class for the next two weeks. My ankle was fine now, but my mind had been contaminated by a deadly virus called FEAR. I was afraid to dance even a step, memories of the agonizing pain seemed to have numbed my brain and I simply could not dance. My mother did her best to talk to me and exorcise my fear, but to no avail.
It was a sultry Sunday afternoon when the doorbell rang, I ran and threw open the door!
My dance teacher stood before me with a warm smile on her pretty face. She had traveled all the way to meet me and my mother!
May I come in? She asked.
Welcome, come right in, said my mother who was by my side now.
Soon my teacher and my mother were exchanging pleasantries over cups of freshly brewed cardamom tea.
What is the matter? Why has your daughter stopped coming to class, asked my teacher to my mother.
My mother explained the situation in hushed tones, as I watched hiding behind the curtains of the bedroom.
My teacher nodded her head solemnly in perfect understanding and called out to me.
I walked shyly towards her carefully avoiding her gaze.
She seated me by her side and stroked my head and said:
Don’t get scared by minor obstacles, let nothing come between you and your dreams.
Just dream to dance and dance to dream. Let there be no place for fear, and one day the world will stand up and applaud you.
With that she stretched out her left leg, and slightly pulled the hem of her sari.
I gazed dumbstruck at her prosthetic leg made of rubber, my mother looked incredulously at my teacher.
My teacher realized the effect her dramatic gesture had on us and proceeded to explain.
It was an accident when I was only four, my left leg had to be amputated at the knee and since then I have made this rubber foot my own. Initially I was at a loss on how I would lead my life, but with the support and encouragement of my parents, I not only lived, but lived my dreams.
I looked at my mother through a haze of tears thinking, that here I was ready to give up dancing because of the fear unleashed by a trivial sprain and here was my teacher who had mastered dancing with only one leg.
That moment is etched deep in my psyche, that moment when I was inspired to follow my dreams.
The thunderous applause finally subsided as I took one last bow, thanking my teacher for inspiring my dreams with her life. I had finally realized my dream and enthralled the audience.
My dance teacher was so happy with my performance that I was made the lead performer in the dance troupe. The journey had just begun! I would now go places to perform, would travel around the world with the troupe!
This is a fictional story. Would be glad to know what you felt about this story.
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