I saw a Goddess

Have you ever met a Goddess? Seen one? Been in the presence of one? Have you ever watched a Goddess dance?
I have.
I saw a Goddess and she was a boy.

Her eyes looked at the world through the kohl lined depths of a little mortal soul. Her red lips parted with the seduction of her serene power as she smiled benevolently at the gathered audience. She had the feet of a little boy and her arms were his wiry limbs. She danced on his feet and she moved with his grace. She was him and he had possessed her. They were one, dancing there as the sun set... They were one, a team, holding us all under their combined spell. We were theirs to enthrall and they were, together, the best at the art of hypnotism.

My eyes remained riveted on this boy. He was dressed in an electric blue sari. Unquestioning of it's relevance to his sexuality; he made the garment his own and sashayed across the stage with an ethereal grace. It was not a sedate grace. It was not the grace of a simple woman. He was the key to the balance. He was the boy and the Goddess, the man-to-be and the young-girl-no-more. The sari was not an extraordinary piece of art. No. In fact it was little more than a routine costume, donned for necessity. He wore a set of ghungru that added more music to his soulful interpretation of the raag. There were the customary flowers in his hair and the traditional red marked his feet and palms. He was dressed to pretend. But he transcended the pretence and made everything real.

The dance was an ancient one. The moves were old and the charm was of a time long gone past. But this little boy, infused it with the vigour of the modern and the restless. His energy was boundless; the Goddess made sure of that; and though he perspired as he virtually led the troupe, he made the evening his own.

The air was charged as he flashed recognition to the rest of the assembled souls. He knew he held us in his thrall. He knew that he was the reason for the admiration. He was aware but conceit was never once apparent. He knew that he was good at what he was doing. He might have been a mortal boy, after all. He might, offstage, suffer from pride. He might be everything that a cynic is comfortable branding a boy not more than 13 years with. He might be everything that i think he is not. Or he might become everything that i hope he will never.

But the fact still stands. He was a Goddess, dancing for mortals.


---- Karishma Modi
http://www.minglebox.com/KarishmaModi