Sitting in the brightest part of the room, all were applauding her; the nattuvan would not stop praising her performance. She had done complete justice to his choreography and his teachings. On stage, though he is singing and impressing the audience with his beat and dancers…he is a cautious dog, fully aware of how his troupe is performing. To him, she can never make mistakes and we, the other attakkari and I, can never succeed in achieving appreciation. She is beautiful, as they say smooth wheat skin, beetled mouth, voluptuous is her voice, mind and body. Sensuality oozing out, at appropriate times, like the grace in her dance and a purpose to impress as strong as the beat of her feet.
Sitting in the darkest corner of the room, I folded her clothes smelling the chandanam that had submerged with sweat on to her white veil. I know anyone could have done what she did if given the chance but who gets that chance these days?
“Meenakshiye! Here, you go, one pound rice and few annas,” the nattuvanar dropped it into my hands. My remuneration this time is bigger than before as the landlord for whom we danced is extremely happy with her performance of Mukkutti.
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