Vodka on the rocks

The Dance of Destruction [Ft. Raghvi]

Raghav started tapping his feet to the rhythm which was slowly building like an uncontrollable flame inside him. The fire swirled like tendrils of smoke throughout his veins as his muscles flexed and moved fluidly along the expanse of his chiselled torso and limbs. The humming of the Shiv tandav strotam created an almost other-worldly aura around him. His limbs moved powerfully exuberating grace and a raw beauty which was both tempered and savage. The postures were impeccable and the mudras flawless, his mind had blanked completely, focussing only on the inner energy which his form radiated wildly.

The hymns started increasing in pace, reaching a tempo when Pallavi descended like a racy river. Her form sprouted and meandered with the elegance befitting a mighty river cutting through infallible rocks and chartered a course around the volcanic frame which was her husband. Her movement drew fluidly like the fathomless and piercing jets of icy streams, her feet in perfect harmony with that of the powerful notes of the strotam and her hands pantomiming her surrender to the higher forces of nature.

Raghav matched his wife's agility with a feline speed and wiry power which would have made any athlete burn with jealousy. Pallavi's hair had escaped from the braid she had made it into and was currently flapping around her frame and his face and body as they danced furiously. The mansion was empty and icy in silence yet remained vibrating with their mutual power as if mount Kailash itself. They kept on gyrating to the tune in symphony yet the marked differences could be visible in their chosen dance forms. Seemingly, it would be impossible to match the two so fundamentally dissimilar forms of art - the bharatnatyam and the kathak. Yet they have melded both in a frighteningly rapturing frame.

There was something trancing in the image they were presenting as they kept tangling in each other and separating like two repulsive and attractive forces of nature. A scientific impossibility of coexistence of two mutually destructive elements of the earth - fire and water. Yet, here they were making love to each other and getting burnt out and extinguished the moment they touched only to be born anew as they separated. There was something sensual about this fusion of tandav that they were dancing to. It was like they Gods they were worshipping had manifested in them as a reflection.

Shiva - the destroyer and his consort, Shakti - the mother of all creation. Raghav could feel his sweat map a path down the various planes and ridges of the play of spectacular muscles on his completely bare torso. He was donning his usual black patiala like trousers. Pallavi was in blood red. Her fitted blouse had a modest square cut, defining just her collar bones and midriff. She had it paired with a similar patiala but in red. Sweat glistened from her skin as well giving it an almost golden sheen. Their exhaustion only seemed to fuel their resulting fury as they started twirling and moving violently around the room and each other. There was a lasting grace in those terrifying violence as well.

The last notes of the strotam rang blaringly in the air and Raghav and Pallavi completed their dance in a graceful yet powerful move coming to a halting stop in front of the huge bronze Nataraja statue they had installed. The room now eerily quiet seemed to still pulsate with the vestiges of their union of energies. They joined their hands and bowed in front of the deity to finish their worship and only then did they notice the frozen audience at the distance.

When Nikhil Deshmukh had conspired with his uncle, Milind and dragged Farhad, his new wife Ainaa and Krishna in his dubious plans to give his elder sister and brother in law a surprise visit, he had never expected to be so tremendously surprised himself. And if he would have been able to remove his eyes from the sight of the couple's dance then he would have noticed neither had his fellow conspirators. They stood spellbound and bewildered as they saw the couple dancing in such contrasting yet crackling harmony. It felt as if they would have been burned down to ashes had they taken a step forward than where they had frozen in awe. Though Nikhil, Milind and Krishna knew Pallavi loved to dance was quite a talented kathak dancer they had never seen her in this form before. So much vigour and so much fury in her steps that they were rooted to their place. And Farhad though having had the privilege of seeing his boss worship once or twice had never before witnessed such a a smooth amalgamation of finesse and savagery in his steps.