The rasa - dance recital
After Dashami celebration 2020
Shringaar – like the oldest story of the full moon, a grey dust sky and eternal monsooned lush spring serenity. Admiring the inevitable charm of swinging like the rotation of this body tiptoeing in motion – the absolute pleasure of seeking a clandestine escape as a night reverie.
Hasyam – plunging into the euphoria of admiring the night – all rowdy with the grandeur of ecstasy – intoxicated with dance and sulky starlight. A light breeze traverses the epidermis, tickling the crockery of bones – a spillage of laughter follows.
Veeram – braving our ways into swaggering unmasked, we are conditioning to the confidence to confront the festivities in this incertitude.
Adbhutam – marveling at the sights of nonchalance, the awe and slow churning of emotions evoking us to enjoy.
Shantam – we give in to the peaceful topography of the night, everything to be cherished as we leap into the grinding everyday-ness of life. There’s a lyre in the ambience as we let ourselves wander in the comforting percussion of soft breath and bonds . And as the seeping dark calls for Immersion of Maa – the hollowing hum of the ribcage echoing those words as always – Ashchhe bochhor abar hobe.
Shringaar – like the oldest story of the full moon, a grey dust sky and eternal monsooned lush spring serenity. Admiring the inevitable charm of swinging like the rotation of this body tiptoeing in motion – the absolute pleasure of seeking a clandestine escape as a night reverie.
Hasyam – plunging into the euphoria of admiring the night – all rowdy with the grandeur of ecstasy – intoxicated with dance and sulky starlight. A light breeze traverses the epidermis, tickling the crockery of bones – a spillage of laughter follows.
Veeram – braving our ways into swaggering unmasked, we are conditioning to the confidence to confront the festivities in this incertitude.
Adbhutam – marveling at the sights of nonchalance, the awe and slow churning of emotions evoking us to enjoy.
Shantam – we give in to the peaceful topography of the night, everything to be cherished as we leap into the grinding everyday-ness of life. There’s a lyre in the ambience as we let ourselves wander in the comforting percussion of soft breath and bonds . And as the seeping dark calls for Immersion of Maa – the hollowing hum of the ribcage echoing those words as always – Ashchhe bochhor abar hobe.
S. Rupsha Mitra is a student from India with a penchant for writing poetry. Her work has appeared or is upcoming in Blue Marble Review, Madras Courier, Muse India and North Dakota Quarterly.
