by Dr Shobha Avadhani
Thaka dhimi thaka jhanu
Thaka dhimi thaka jhanu
Thaka dhimi thaka jhanu
Thadingina thom
Thadingina thom
Thadingina thom
When you are twenty years old, and they turn the spotlight on, you are ready to dance into the circle of light. Embracing the light comes easily when you haven’t known much darkness. Or at least – you don’t know that what you have known IS darkness. That comes later. At twenty, this is all you know. That the light is for you. And so when it is turned on, by someone you can’t see, and you can’t see anyone at all because of all the light, you trust that the stage is where you belong. You trust that people are watching – even though all you see is black in the glare of the light – you trust that the eyes are kind. You may look down, to check for the little duct taped X that marks the spot on the stage where you need to stand to be fully in the centre of the light. But only for a moment. Because really, the joy of being in the light is within you. You will find it. It will brighten your spirit so much, activate your trust so much, that you throw your shoulders back, lift your chin, dance with strong young legs that never get tired. Dance like everyone is watching. Because they are. Sometimes they are cruel. At twenty you don’t always understand their cruelty. You wait in the wings and you don’t notice the dark because at any moment the spotlight will turn on and the light is yours to claim. Just wait – the theerumanam is almost over.
But no one stays twenty forever. Time passes, and life has a way of weighing you down. Every feeling that anyone forced you to hide stays in your body. The feelings have mass. They have form. There is no stage nor spotlight unless you fight for it. And so many of us lose that fight that we fade away. Do you wonder where we are? Do you wonder what happened to us? Buried under husbands and housework and disappeared dreams. We run from the light, afraid of what it will show us. Afraid of the eyes that we cannot see, because over the years we have started to understand the cruel words and we know that no one wants to watch us. We have no more right to stand in the wings, because that is a holding space for movement in the opposite direction – towards the light, not away from it. The bells around our ankles that heralded our entrance are no use for our exit. They sit on altars and shelves now. I used to dance. I don’t now.
But you know, we don’t flee the light forever. We don’t fear the dark forever. The dark is not always a place to hide. It is also a place to heal, and grow. We are not in the wings anymore, waiting for someone to turn the light on. Now we find the light within us, and feel our wings grow. Those of us who claim the dark, we dance in different ways.
Image credit: “Desavarati Ragini,” National Museum of Asian Art, available in the public domain (CC-0).
NAF programme title:
Thanmai - NUS Indian Dance
