Part 17: Rhythm

Present day... elsewhere

Dev flew in fervent circles, mesmerising and tantalising, anyone who caught themselves looking at the man in red. His tall, dark frame gracefully told a story of love and sringara, sending pangs of passion washing through the crowd. Sringara is referred to as the 'mother of all rasams' as it leads you through pangs of jealousy, fear, anger, and compassion. It plucks you out of the depths of sorrow and sends you soaring through ecstasy before knocking you off again. 

Dev's eyes glistened in the spotlights of the gallery. He was a scarlet flame setting the white walls of the sterile hall ablaze. The walls were lined with exquisitely crafted images, but no one had eyes for them as Dev glided over the pale marble tiles at a startling pace. 

A camerawoman roaming the halls of the camera lowered his lens at the sight of him, knowing no lens in the world could capture the intoxicating and contradicting power of strength and fragility the man expressed. Basking in the venous performance, he raised his lens to his eyes again. He had to try to encapsulate this at the very least.

Dev's agile body went from taunt to free with the rhythm, his bare torso contorting gracefully to his heartbeat, which was one with the music. His red dhoti swirled with him, sweat dotting the carved bronze of his upper body.

With an unexpected jete, he sent chills rippling across the audience that had gathered. A signature of his, incorporating whatever caught his fancy from across dance forms into his Bharatnatyam, was fairly controversial and so he set it aside only to display at Kanimozhis gallery. Anyone who wanted to see him in his full glory knew where to come. 

Landing clean on his toes, Dev performed his ending prayers as the crowd dissipated.

The camerawoman approached him,

"Hey, do you mind posing for me? You can name the time and place," she offered.

Dev lifted his eyes to meet the woman's, sitting on the floor removing his anklets. When he stood, he was a changed man.

From his eyes to the rigidness of his back, this was a very different person who stood in front of him now. Those eyes which could drown you were now bored and tired.

Before Dev could respond, someone called out to him from behind.

"He wouldn't pose just for anyone. Or phrase it better, I wouldn't let him."

A woman in a green sharara suit, veiled with organza embroidered with gold approached them.

Dev bowed his head subtly at the sight of her, and she returned the gesture, the jangling of her anklets and earrings lightly echoing down the corridor.

Her frail arms held five thin gold bangles each, which led your eyes straight to the ivory bracelet on her arm. Gilded on it was the name, Kanimozhi...