The Hidden Language of the Soul.

Backstage, the girls were preparing for their grand finale. The air was tense. Excitement was at its peak. So was frustration -missing pieces of jewelry, costumes and make-up. And sure enough, there were a whole lot of curses too. Amidst all this, you could still find a couple of anxious ones going about their last minute rehearsals. Ten minutes more of this, and the choreographer would have fainted. It was nothing less than chaos backstage.

Finally, to everyone’s relief, it was time. The girls straightened out their costumes and went away to dance. It was their first dance performance together as a group. As they entered the stage, they couldn’t help but smile. Whether it was from excitement, nervousness, relief or pride – no one really knew. They were just smiling pleasantly as they took their positions.

The stage was full of a dark light. The curtains were still down and the girls wondered if they would be able to spot their families and friends in the audience. They squinted as lights squeaked. The technician cursed under his breath because the lights wouldn’t work. Everything soon fell silent in anticipation, perhaps too still. The rustling of papers could be heard and soon the curtain rose. Suddenly, a moon descended on the girls, upon their pretty dresses, and it shifted with them. The technician sighed in relief as he stubbed out his cigarette.

Soon, the soothing music began playing. It was a ballad about eternal love. And then, descending from above, the star ballerina appeared on stage. She was more beautiful than beautiful could get and the audience clapped vigorously for her. The other girls cascaded around her as she assumed a swan shape. The floor was cold; her feet were almost naked in just those stockings. But she still remained a swan as the others danced. The stage floor creaked in their feet’s heavy trots. The air soon got too heavy for breathing and people took to whispering, agonizing with the stale air and just the sound of moving feet. Nobody left – they only stayed in an uneasy wait.

Then it happened; the swan had begun moving. Applause sounded. Soon, she was the only one on stage and she had conquered it as all the other girls filed away into darkness. Alone, she appeared even more beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful. Her face and hair shone bright in the spotlight. Every little girl wanted to be like her, every woman wished she had been like her, while every man just lay transfixed-this was beauty they couldn’t just take in plainly. It seemed as if in the auditorium that night, dance wasn’t just a form; it was a way of life.

Alone, the dancer flowered again. Stretching out her entire body into another splendid motion, she began where the other girls had ended it. Why, her feet would not even touch the ground! She appeared to be flying, flying high like she was powerful and fearless – an athlete of god perhaps? It was evident she wasn’t made of technique but of passion. The audience wasn’t going to forget her tomorrow, next week, next year or the years to come. Such was the spell she had cast on them. Dancing with your feet is one thing, but dancing with your heart is a wonder. And as this beautiful dancer moved from one graceful posture to yet another, she cast more spells on the audience. The technician fell from his station, the organizers stopped discussing business deals, everyone began switching off their cell phones and they simply lay motionless. Motionless, just to watch this wonder of a girl and her magnificence.

She winded like a soft wind brushing over grass, as she moved elegantly towards the finale. Everyone was now violently in love. Violently in love with that young lady and her dance. The audience loved being in love and did not wish for the music to stop, ever. They watched her make enchanting moves after moves and it was almost orgasmic. They had no tomorrow to think of, nothing to bother them: all they wanted was to watch her dance. And as she continued writing poetry with her feet, she revealed more mysteries that the music concealed. THE DANCER HAD BECOME THE DANCE.