I cannot be left alone with my thoughts.

I woke up early this morning, determined to put on my anklets and restart something I had stopped a long time ago. As I folded my bedsheet, I could feel my heart flying past its normal tempo, anxious about how it would feel to move my limbs to a rhythm again. Trying not to wake my roommates, I walked on my tiptoes, gathering all my tools, a water bottle, a shawl, and finally my beautiful but dusty chilankas. Deciding to use the steps as my warm up, I ran down the stairs, blasting music in my ears. Upon reaching the mess, I looked around, my stage for the morning. I sat down, took my chilankas. A feeling so familiar yet distant now. Gathering all my strength, I put it on, soaking in each of the tinkle it made, as I finally stepped into the familiar comfort of my beloved soulmate, dance. 

The sound of anklets startled me. Scenes fron movies in which banshees wearing anklets flew in to drink the blood of innocent preys clouded my vision. Feeling scared but curious, I washed my soapy hands, stacked the freshly washed plates, and went out of the cleaning area to the mess to see the imaginary banshee in my head. As I walked and got closer to the mess door, the sound of anklets grew louder. The sound reminded me of the days when I stood outside the dance class in my hometown, yearning to dance like the other girls. Despite my love for the artform, I could never pursue it as I couldn't afford it. Now here I am washing plates and pots in a city faraway from home and faraway from my dreams. I looked around the corner, to see a girl dancing her heart out, clad in anklets. I watched in awe and with tears in my eyes, as I saw my dreams being lived by a small, unfamiliar face, whose life has just begun. 

I felt shocked when she touched me again. I had forgotten the feeling. I remember the days when I used to be her best friend. She took me everywhere. I used to tinkle everyday. She would dance, and I would dance with her. I saw beautiful stages, stages that made her happy, and also the ones that made her cry. But for a long while, I had only seen the dusty inners of the shiny bag she kept me in. Today, she touched me again. I felt her hesitation. The way she held me gently so as to not hurt me, as if I would break if she held me too tight. The joy that I felt when I finally hugged her ankles is immeasurable. I waited with uncontainable excitement as she lifted her leg. The first step, the first thalam, took me back to the stage, the lights, and the love for it all. I gave her my most beautiful symphony hoping that I would never go silent again.

~ shreya.