Rhythm

The rhythm of the beat

Is minced by my feet

Traditional Indian dance,

A style quite freelance.

With two hundred bells,

All chiming at once,

As my hair flies in air,

And I take an elegant turn.

The smell of white flowers,

Knotted up in my hair,

My jewellery glistens,

As they all stare.

The epitome of grace,

Poise and beauty,

I offer a prayer to my guru,

It’s my duty.

As the speed of my turns,

Rapidly increasing,

My heart takes flight,

And my mind seizes thinking.

For the Rhythm flows through me,

In my veins and every breath

My hands tell a story,

My legs follow step by step.

My face expresses every emotion,

That my character needs to portray.

And I never,stop and think,

For Kathak is art of storytelling,

So the mind is a not needed thing.

Listen to the Rhythm of my heart,

As I take my final pose,

My hands come together to symbolise  my depart,

The audience cheers as my smile grows.