A Familiar Love- A Radhakrishn Retelling

21. 𝖣𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗍𝗌

"Krishn, my dear boy! Are you feeling well enough to practise again?" the choreographer called out warmly as they entered the rehearsal room after school.

Radha noticed how the entire room seemed to brighten at his arrival. In her nearly fourteen years at this school, she had learned one thing: news spread fast. Naturally, everyone knew about the accident involving Krishn's family. What surprised her was the throng of students who had surrounded her that Monday morning at the school gate, bombarding her with questions. Somehow, they had discovered that she was his neighbour and were eager for any news about him.

Radha couldn't help but wonder, When did Krishn become so popular?

Her eyes locked onto Krishn as he stood beside Harshali, his familiar smile lighting up his face as he reassured everyone fluttering around him. The only visible sign of the accident was a small cut on his forehead. He seemed unfazed by the attention, effortlessly convincing the choreographer that he was well enough to practise.

She tried to tear her gaze away before he noticed. Too late—his eyes met hers, a playful smile beginning to form on his lips. He started toward her, but she turned away as the choreographer called the rehearsal to order.

The dancers formed a circle around Radha and Krishn, following the choreographer's instructions. Radha could feel the weight of everyone's expectations as they were directed to look into each other's eyes. His eyes held the same familiar playfulness, but hers were filled with questions—questions that had lingered since their last conversation in the confines of his kitchen, now a distant memory.

The rehearsal grew intense, the choreographer reminding them again and again that the performance was only a week away. Radha pushed all thoughts aside as they moved through the steps, each one bringing her closer to Krishn. She smiled when she was asked to, mirroring his. But his smile was different—natural and effortless, while Radha had to force her muscles to comply.

They were tasked with depicting the beauty of Raasleela, the eternal love of Radha and Krishna, in their dance. But Radha wasn't sure she could ever do it justice. Her eyes drifted to the small idol of RadhaKrishna in the centre of the room. Help me, she prayed silently. I want to do your love justice.

Krishn, hearing her silent plea, chuckled at the thought. Only you could ever do it justice, Radhe. Radha ke bina, Raas kaise ho sakta hain bhala?

"What's so funny?" she asked, breathless, as they paused to catch their breath.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head with a grin.

Radha wasn't convinced, but exhaustion kept her from pressing further.

"Radha, I need to talk to you," the choreographer called out.

"Yes, sir?"

"Radha, you're a good dancer, but dance isn't just about executing the steps. It's about conveying the right emotions and truly engaging the audience. Over the past few days, I've noticed you struggling with your expressions."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," she replied, her voice small.

"I'm not scolding you, Radha. You're executing the steps perfectly, but I know you can do better. I need you to dig deeper and bring more emotion into your performance. Do you understand?"

She nodded, feeling the weight of his words.

"If you need help, don't hesitate to ask me or any of your peers if that's more comfortable. I hope to see improvement in the next rehearsal." He patted her shoulder gently before walking away.

Radha hated this feeling—the sting of disappointing someone she respected. Doubt and insecurity began to creep into her mind. No, she told herself, shaking her head. It's just something I need to work on. I can do this.