I open the door after putting my clothes in the bathroom and outside it stands Varun, one hand going through his hair while the other is tightly fisted in his pocket. He shuffles his feet and seems to be very nervous and distraught because of something.
"Varun? Are you okay?" I ask, worried now. Varun looks up at me; he is still five feet seven inches since boys mature later than girls. Even then, I am tall for a girl. I see tears in his eyes and quickly I usher him into my room, closing the door behind me. "What's wrong?" Varun lets out his tears, silent sobs wracking his body. I guide him toward my bed, and we sit down; I am propped up against the pillows and he is curled up, his head in my lap. Our sibling relationship is stronger than most; we tell each other everything and have always been there for each other when needed. Of course, there are days where all we do is fight or tease one another, but at the end of the day, we would do anything for each other.
"Vivu, I have some problems right now," He starts, after his sobs die down and he is left sniffling. I softly pat his head and run my fingers through his soft, feather-like hair. "I...I just need a shoulder to cry on right now, okay?" He sees the protest about to leave my mouth, and continues, "I need to figure out this...problem on my own right now, and I promise you it isn't anything mom and dad will be worried about, and I'll tell you everything when I'm ready, okay?" I give him a silent nod, quietly pondering in my mind what possibly could be going on in his mind.
"Okay, Varun, but just answer me this: it's nothing physical, right? No one I need to beat up or anything?" We both chuckle as we remember back in elementary school when girls would chase him around during breaks, teasing him for our "rich" parents, and I would maybe beat them up (just a little).
"No, no, nothing like that. It's not like I'm going through depression or anything either, it's just something small that I need to figure out. It...It's more like I have to first find what the problem really is, you know?" I nod again and let go of most of my tension. He'll be okay.
Varun pushes himself off my lap and looks at the time. It's been twenty minutes since he came in. He suddenly turns around and looks at me, hope and excitement visible in his body language and eyes.
"Vee, you know what'll really make me feel better?" Oh no. He's giving me his irresistible puppy eyes. Varun knows that I can't say no to him now. "Can we do another secret karaoke night?"
I should have known! Me and my brother have this secret tradition where we do karaoke at midnight in my soundproof music room on each of our birthdays or when we are a little down. We do a mix of our own songs and actual karaoke with pop songs and one of our phones hooked up to a speaker. I have mastered ten instruments, Varun two, and between us we have written enough songs to make a hundred music albums. But we keep this a secret from our parents. Though they pushed us to be openminded, like with my dancing, music, and calligraphy and Varun's art, they forbade us from writing songs. They believe that becoming a singer, songwriter, artist, etc. is not a well-off career opportunity, but learning many skills is required for us since our parents want us to be cultured and have taste.
I sigh, "Fine." I look at his excited face, but smirk. "But...You have to spend an hour fighting with me. I don't have a sparring partner today." Dad is immersed in work today, with only thirty minutes to spare for a minimal workout. Varun groans.
"Fine, if that'll get you to do some karaoke, then I'll join you after your workout."
"Never give up," I say to him in Sanskrit.
"Never will I," Varun says back to me in Hindi. He leaves then, pulling the door shut behind him after giving me a quick side hug.
I quickly go to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I brush my teeth (I always do after coming back from school), wash my face in the sink, pull my hair into a bun, strip, and get in the shower. I draw the curtain, so the shower is shaded and dark. The warm water relaxes my tense muscles as I move the soap over my body, scrubbing and washing it off. After a good ten minutes I step out and wrap a fluffy blue towel around my body. I dry my skin, put on my clothes, and pull my knee-length hair into a long and loose braid, as per custom for practicing the kathak dance I am about to practice.
I pull the anklets into my hands so I can tie them around my ankles properly when I get to my dance room. I quickly exit my bathroom and throw my school clothes into a basket while hanging my towel on a hook to dry. I take my large water bottle from the side of my desk, labeled "princess". A random gift from my father, which I use for dance to this day since I really am a daddy's girl.
From there, I take one last glance at my room and, not noticing anything out of place, I jog to my dance room. The door to the dance room is like all the other doors in the hall, but with a small window next to the door that shows a section of the room. The dance room itself is a sight to see, with the far wall completely comprising of one-way glass, so I can look outside but others can't look in, and the other two walls are made up of mirrors and bars, even a pull-up bar in the corner. The floor changes into a deep mahogany hardwood floor and the wall with the entrance door has giant silver letters spelling out "DANCE". The right half of the floor is covered in mats and in the middle of the mats is a stool with a tape player.
My dance instructor, Mr. Shiveykar, sends me tapes from India, so this player is a requirement. In the corner of the mats there stands a large speaker for if I need to play music. On the other corner is a rack with towels, extra water and extra anklets, and the tape recordings.
I take out the stack of recordings I have yet to finish and pull out the one from today. I put it into the tape-recording player and the sound of Mr. Shiveykar's voice fills the room.
"Today, child, you will be practicing the advanced steps I assume you learned yesterday. The beat will be very fast and powerful today, so be careful and be ready." He tells me the instructions in Hindi, and I pause the recording and quickly tie my anklets around my ankles and lower calves. I walk back to the mats to play the recording after doing a few stretches and revel in the sound of the bells chiming with every step I take. Dance is sometimes my escape from this world. The recording starts playing again, and I quickly lock the door and pull the shade on the window that looks into the hallway.
I slowly close my eyes and let my facial muscles relax. I get into the starting position, of the type of dance I will be doing today, kathak, with my feet slightly pointed outward and my body straight, but not too straight, like my posture at school. My arms are folded, and my hands point inwards, toward my collarbones. The classical music starts, and I move my right hand under my chin as I slightly tilt my chin and move my left arm in a sweeping gesture. Mr. Shiveykar's voice comes on, and he starts voicing out the different beats, as I move different parts of my toes and feet to the beat while swaying my body into the complicated positions from my previous lesson. I close my eyes, since I don't have to use many facial muscles for this dance and feel out the melody. The story my body tells is one of sorrow and loss.
My feet move faster and faster to the increasing beat, my instructor's voice becoming a little worn out as he voices out the other beats. His voice becomes sharper as the kathak beats come even faster, and the anklets on my ankles continue to follow the music as I make sure subconsciously to hit the right parts of my feet to the floor to produce the right sounds. My body flows with a grace I never dare unleash when in front of others, and I keep my eyes closed while a smile, which I don't push back, makes its way on my face.
The melody and beats changing and becoming faster signified the change in the story. Suddenly, the story tells of becoming stronger and as cold as steel. A tear or two trails down my face while my arms switch into more complicated positions and my feet slightly slow down. My hips slightly sway to the anklets chiming on my feet and my body moves most fluidly as the beat speeds up once again. At the cue, a swell of the music, I make a complicated pattern with my feet, the bells of my anklets following the music exactly. As the story starts to come to a close, I start spinning so my dress flares around me and I spin while moving my feet in specific patterns, as to capture the beat in the story. The long braid I secured my hair into earlier flies around me along with my dress. My arms come and meet above my head as I spin, until, finally, the story and the song end, along with my instructor's voice.
"If you just did that without any mistakes, not only will I not be surprised, but I will be proud, my dear. You have immense skill and talent, just like your grandmothers, and those who came before them. I look forward to your next trip to India, your lessons for this year are very advanced and you must put on a show one day for us, sweet child. Bless you." My instructor starts his statement in Hindi, finishes his last sentence in Sanskrit, and I take the tape recording out of the player. My neck is damp with sweat and my chest rises and falls with every breath I take. I smile at his last words and make a mental note to put on a show for him and my grandmothers when I go back to India. This year I will leave about a week after school ends and return a week before my birthday.
I look at the clock on the wall. I have been dancing for thirty minutes, but it feels only like five or ten. I take my water bottle from the rack and take lots of small sips, so I don't get cramps when I do my workout later. Since today's lesson isn't as long as usual, I go back to my room and change into a black sports bra and a loose black tank top on top with a pair of black shorts that reach mid-thigh and don't get in the way. I still have about fifteen minutes to spare before my workout, so I go back to the dance room and plug my phone into the speaker. A couple of pop songs start playing and I stretch to the music, loosening up for my workout.