'Khaar' -The dance of death.

'Khaar'

Just like any other art such as music, singing or painting, dance is also an art. What accompanies it is the music. Every beat has its own step.

From the times of the  mughal era, places like the red light areas have been found quiet exciting as they give birth to untold stories.

Being fifteen I, Shabnam belong to a family where girls dance for the entertainment of people. Wearing a peshwas along with heavy jewellery I am painted with various colorful sticks. Golden for the eyes, black down below and red for the lips..Wait... I like red? but, not for my lips.

My mother Reshma along with three other men, the guy who plays the tabla , jameel who sings along with him and last but not the least, Feroze chacha who collects the money.
As we enter the the 'baithak' (room) where the audience awaits for our performance. I take my position in the center of the room, surrounded by people. People who have expectations and greed in their eyes. Next to them the others go make space on the Small stage situated in one corner of the room.

Every 'Adah' (posture) I make has great meaning as it goes with the beat of the tabla player and Jameel's voice which makes its way trailing to my ears.
Giving out perfect expressions and postures, I get to earn a lot of money.
In between I can see Feroze chacha's hunger to collect the money thrown around me.
Later on after the whole dance ritual, iam sent back home. Here, I sit on a stained and ripped mattress waiting for my next call.

At the age of ten I was introduced to our families tradition. A dancer, generally a prostitute. So.. Our family has me and my mother and father? Well... I have never heard of him and never will. But, I have a mother. A mother who portrays to be a father.
I have always dreamt of making friends of my age, play around and even go to school if there was a possibility... If I were to refuse continuing the families tradition, my mother would lock me in the 'kaal kohtri' (dark room) leaving me there to starve in hunger. Crying helplessly, I was eventually forced to give in as there was no escape.

The reward of money was distributed among chacha Feroze  and the others leaving me behind, ignoring my needs.

Apart from the performances, I used to attend classes held by Malka begum , our senior who trains me along with many other girls.

At times I fear that one day I will have a family. A family which has no father, a family which has been created without my agreement or any other religious ritual being performed. It will be a family which is chosen  by the people whom I entertain. I will not be the one to choose for me but, will be chosen from the one's whom I please.
Later on just like the others and my mother's past " histories" I will scared and left alone. One day I, myself will become a mother of children with no father. A father who will be unknown like mine.
Over here having a girl is much more of a need as they can then carry out the same tradition and then be left with children of many who were pleased.

Me and my mother are the bread winners of our little world. Where now, iam the puppet who dances against their own will. A puppet who is tied to the strings of helplessness.
I don't like this profession which i carry out for the sake of people who come and go leaving behind bruises, leaving a tag of ' prostitution' upon you.
For me it's like the dance of death. Whoever feels pleased wants more of it. There is no time to rest, you keep dancing forever until its passed on to someone else. You keep going along as what you do brings joy to people.
I still have the anger and frustration which keeps growing inside me. I cry for what I have and my children will have. Iam the 'Khaar' (anger) of every one, the khaar of the life imposed on me!!