Stage fear

My face smiles into that perfect one I’m forced to use,

—with slight down curve at the sides,

The ghungroo (bells) jingles wildly with each step I took,

—all the way grateful for friction on hard floor,

My trembling hasta mudras (hand gestures) sweeps the air with grace,

—a shaky grace veiled by the next partly perfect gesture.

Everyone stares,

maybe at the story I was trying hard to convey,

or perhaps just at me.

Everyone claps,

maybe at my performance,

or simply because it was over.

Nobody acknowledged me later,

Nobody asked if I was ok,

I had once again mastered in enshrouding my feelings,

The nervousness was cloaked,

which perhaps might have been noticed,

only by my bharatanatyam dance teacher. She always knows.

I giggled,

I had fooled all audience.