The Bharatanatyam dance of a Lifetime

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Let me present to you, Shruti Ram!” I plucked up the courage and stepped out on the black wooden platform stage, with a smile plastered on my face. The traditional Indian dance garments are glowing with a multiplex of colors with golden trim on edge of my short sleeves and the rim of my skirt and leggings, as my feet made contact with the stage the heavy necklaces adorn with jewels swayed from left to right as my head jewelry remained fixed on my head. My face is dressed up with bright red lipstick as my eyes are lined with black eyeliner with a red round bindi, an accessory worn by Indian women, on my forehead right above the middle of my eyes. I stood on the stage, as the image of an Indian goddess, waiting for the music to begin. Then, “Dum, Dum, Dum…”. You hear the sound of the tabla, a traditional Indian drum ring in, as the singer sings a song about the god being depicted. With the combination of the tabla, the veena, an Indian classical large guitar that is played horizontally, and the singer soothing the audience with a range of sounds. As the music starts, I start my dance. The dance of Indian gods. I depict their various stories, with abhinaya, facial expressions shown through Indian dance, and with adavus Indian dance steps. With the combination of the music, dance steps, and facial expression; I simply glide across the stage showing sadness, happiness, joy, a character. The anklets with bells jingle with every move I make which matches the beats of the drums. My headgear begins now to move along with my movements. My hand sway showing the character listening to music afar. Then, the god is startled by the sudden presence of the demon, I make my eyes wide bringing my hands to eyes to accentuate it. My dance then moved on to the sudden battle between the rivals. The god fights, as the demon, laughs as his attempt of superiority, and then the sudden loss of the demon occurs. My hand changes from bow and arrow to a club, showing the two sides of the battle. Finally, I show the character proud, using abhinaya. The god depicted is victorious. We then return to my hand swaying as the god returns back to its deeds of listening to music. The song continues. The song displays the proud movements of the god, shows the battle won victoriously, shows the love found, shows the moments of loss. It is a story said without words, but through an art form that can always show. That art form is dance.
The song begins to come to an end. The ending of the god’s story. My hands clap in praise, my eyes soften to the expression of happiness. The crook of my lips curves upward to a smile to show the audience that I am happy as well. My legs are weary from the jumps, and beating of my legs. I finally end on my final pose, switching my hands to the traditional mudra, or hand motion, and showing one final glimpse of the character. One final glimpse, of who I was for three minutes. Then, the music stops. One second. A loud applause echoes throughout the auditorium. That is my cue, I bring my hands together, and I bow to the audience in a namaste. Happiness. I walk off the stage, with the bells on my feet jingling as I exit.