Rakshash Aur Rajkumari (The Devil And The Princess) 🔞✔

31• गुलाबकण्टके नृत्यं

The theatre was bathed in darkness, the only illumination emanating from a single spotlight on the stage. The audience sat in hushed anticipation, their eyes fixed on the figure that stood before them.

As the music began to play, a hush fell over the crowd, and then she appeared. Ambika, resplendent in a vibrant yellow and red saree draped in the traditional Bharatanatyam style, commanded the stage with her presence. Her long hair, braided intricately and adorned with white flowers and golden hair accessories, cascaded down her back, reaching her hips.

Every inch of her body was adorned with gold jewelry, shimmering in the spotlight as she began to move. Her fingers, stained red with alta, danced gracefully through the air, creating a mesmerizing melody with the jingling of her bangles. With each step, the sound of her ghungroos echoed through the theatre, a rhythmic heartbeat that pulsed with the music.

Her waist swayed in perfect synchrony with the music, but it was her eyes that truly captivated the audience, pools of darkness rimmed with kajal, filled with a depth of emotion that seemed to transcend the stage itself.

As Ambika danced, it was as if the very essence of Indrapuri had descended upon the theatre. The audience sat enraptured, transported to a realm of beauty and grace as they witnessed the dance of an Apsara come to life before their eyes.

सा नि धा, नि धा मा
मा गा सा नि धा नि सा गा मा
मा गा सा नि धा नि सा गा
मा गा सा नि धा नि सा गा, मा गा मा गा
सा नि धा पा गा पा धा नि
सा नि धा पा गा पा धा नि, सा नि धा नि
धा नि सा, धा नि सा, धा नि सा, धा नि सा
मा धा नि, मा धा नि, मा धा नि, मा धा नि
धा नि सा, धा नि सा, धा नि सा
मा धा नि, मा धा नि, मा धा नि

Despite the facade of success and adulation that surrounded Ambika, there was an emptiness within her that no amount of wealth or fame could fill. Beneath the dazzling exterior, there lay a heart that bore the scars of past wounds, wounds inflicted by the man who had once held the key to her happiness.

In the quiet moments before she took the stage, amidst the cheers of the audience and the whispers of admiration, Ambika's thoughts often drifted back to him. His memory lingered like a shadow in the recesses of her mind, a constant reminder of the love that had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.

But instead of succumbing to despair, Ambika had chosen to channel her pain into something beautiful, something transcendent. With each movement of her body, each arch of her brow, she poured her heartache into the dance, allowing the rhythm of the music to carry her away from the burdens of reality.

For Ambika, dance was more than just a profession; it was a sacred space where she could lay bare her soul and find solace in the ebb and flow of movement.
And so, as she graced the stage with her mesmerizing performance, it wasn't just her talent that captivated the audience-it was the raw emotion etched into every step, every gesture, every expression. In that moment, Ambika wasn't just a dancer; she was a storyteller, weaving a narrative of love and loss with each graceful movement, each heart-wrenching crescendo.

And as the final notes of the music faded into the darkness, leaving only the echo of her presence lingering in the air, Ambika knew that she had found her voice, her truth, in the language of dance.

And as the final notes of the music faded into the darkness, leaving only the echo of her presence lingering in the air, Ambika thought to herself, "I dance, and dance, and dance... I dance while thinking about you, I dance while chanting your name. You are my world and You are my God. This heart only beats for you, these hands only swing for you, these legs move for you. For whatever I am today is because of you. It was a love story of a commoner and a princess, which was meant to end but love does it ever end?"