Dancer

a true lie conceived in reality.

A perfect one stroke of kajal. A double swatch of red wet lipstick. Thrice,a little puff of powder on her cheeks. She left the first hook of her blouse open because that assured a proper wage. She pinned a ring onto her navel. This time_ a silver one. But that was not the silver lining of her life. Not that,not anything.

She tied the "ghungroo". The clamour of it was unbearable but the glamour of it earned a bread for her. She was a 17 year old girl when she first entered this shunt for a shelter. Now, a 21 year old blooming flower.

She got ready to dance. She is a dancer. A very talented one,if you pressurise your insight. She had the steps at the beck and call of her mind. She hardly listened to the music. She couldn't because the room was filled with bellow of obscenity by hands and mouth of men. At the end of it, she carefully picked all the notes and went back to her room. Money was precious to her but she left it carelessly on the table and took a swift second to get a makeover. Her face -serene with beauty, no artificial colours printed on her anymore. Slipped into a salwar kameez, she swiped the sweat  off of her brow and chest. She started counting the money and put it back on her safe when she was done. She wants to be a dancer. The girl who dances on a stage streaming with crowd. The dancer under drizzling rain. The dancer on spring fall of grass. She wants to dance to the music and rhythm of the world. She wants to dance for earning love, not jingles.

Everybody dances when happy. Dance- they express joy. 

She dances out of pain and slavery. She is a dancer but she wants to be the dancer .

"Get ready".

Again the perfect stroke of kajal until the ghungroo.

She appeared in the room. 

"Dance".

The dancer danced.

Reviews

[Solar]

A vivid portrait of the artistic soul, having to dance for a living without selling her soul.
Enjoyed reading it.

[Stonz P.]

BRAVO on the first paragraph. Just great.

Few corrections: Only in the second para, rest is good.
#Don't put indigenous words (here, ghungroo) in quotes. You are not stating them, just italicise them and you'll be golden.
#Don't say 'a bread for her'. It is a general metaphor for food and since here, it is unclear whether she does what she does for her family or herself, 'earned her bread' would be correct or just simply 'paid for her bread'. Also try avoiding conjunctions too much.
#You personify the flower to the girl, but you also use "blooming". Good, but where did the flower bloom from? A bud, a seed? Think yourself, I'll give you the hint: "17 year old girl when . . ."

This is a great piece. Good to know you write prose as well.
And don't mind the suggestions, I have a thing for not passing over shortcomings in good prose.

[Namrata]

Thank you for the review. Prose is not my strong point but I tried to feel the pain of an artist who doesn't get praised for her art, more often than her body. I will wait till I grow more mature to edit this.

[Stonz P.]

Well, prose is my strong point.
And with that argument my suggestions are useless, I'd rather see YOUR work :-)

[Namrata]

they aren't useless. I will render them in my future motivation bank.

[C. Rose]

You've got a great hook. I was very grounded in your scene and you pose an interesting question -
but after the first paragraph you degrade into telling. You told me her age. Told me she is a dancer. Told me she is talented. Told me her opinion.
I encourage you to expand this story. Show me that how she feels being surrounded by younger dancers (if that is how it is). Show me her talent. Show me her opinion about dancing through events or at least dialogue.

Keep writing! :)

[00000000000000000000000..]

I really liked this:) She wanted to be a dancer not for the sake of men but for pain and that she enjoyed it:))))))))))))))))))