The Deaf Dance!!

Neha walked into the cafe, noticing a bell ring above her as she pushed the glass doors, heads briefly turning towards her. She was tall, with broad shoulders and an elegant waist. Her ballet paying off with slim, long legs. She had a long, sharp nose, and her eyebrows were on fleek. Her soft lips and her deep eyes added a spark, not to be missed.

 She ordered her usual frappuccino and looked around for a seat, a window seat to be specific. All the window seats were occupied except for one in the corner. There was a boy sitting there alone. He had long black hair, falling slightly over his chocolate brown orbs. His long slender fingers gripping onto a blunt charcoal pencil, which was moving swiftly against a paper. His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. There was plenty of space, he was the only one sitting on that table. A grin spread on her lips. He wouldn’t mind if she sat there, hopefully, she thought.

Neha walked up to the table and gently sat in the opposite seat.

“Hey” she greeted cheerfully. The boy glanced at her before going back to his work, annoyed that he had company.

“Do you mind if sit here?” She tried again with that annoyingly cheery voice of hers, well, at least that was his opinion.

He just scowled at her and trained his eyes back onto the half-filled sheet of paper.

How can someone be so cheery in this wretched world? He thought.

This continued for weeks, and it annoyed him. He was always alone and he liked it that way. Every weekend she would sit at the same seat at the same table he sat. She greeted him as soon as she came, but he never returned that gesture. After that, none of them talked. He, just scribbling in a sketchbook with charcoal pencils, and she, sipping her frappuccino occasionally reading.

It was just another day at the café and Neha was sitting at the same table opposite the boy whom she thought to be obsessed with charcoal pencils. She took out a very familiar envelope she was meaning to open for a while. She gently tore it open, the sound of paper tearing faltering his focus a bit. Sure, there were many people who were laughing around but maybe the fact that she was sitting at the same table made her every move disturbing.

She started reading the letter, carefully, line by line, word for word, taking sips of her drink to ease her stress. By the time her eyes landed on the last word on the letter, tears were brimming the corners of her eyes. She tried to wipe then away before they threatened to fall.

 “Why?” She asked herself, her voice thick and hoarse.

Aman snapped his head up in irritation, she was disturbing with her presence already, and now the random girl who was sitting in front of him was speaking, completely shattering his focus.

“Can you sit somewhere else?” He spoke for the first time, in a low growl.

The girl didn't budge. She just sat there, her head hung low, her golden locks covering her face, hiding her tears.

“Excuse me?” He tried again, louder. He pulled the paper from her hands which caught her off guard.

He stole a glance at the letter’s title, It was from the famous university for visual and performing arts. He grew interested in it. It was an acceptance letter for the audition which determines whether the person is eligible to attend the university. So she learns ballet, he thought. He got accepted by the same university for painting. He looked up at her to ask about it when he noticed her teary eyes.

“You don't….. want to go?” He asked, shocked, the fact that he did not like talking to people completely slipping off his mind. There was no response.

“Do you not want to go?” He repeated, still paralyzed in shock. No response. He pushed her shoulder in irritation. “What? Are you deaf? You aren't even answering me!” He said in annoyance.

“Deaf? That is what I am!" she smiled.

She took the letter from Aman’s hands and got up, walking out of the door, leaving him confused and shocked. Despite his dislike towards people, he ran behind her, guilt engulfing him. 

Aman stood in front of her. “I'm so sorry.” He said, breathing heavily.

“Sorry doesn't change anything.” She said darkly, an unusual tone for a graceful girl like her. He nodded meekly. He regretted his actions. 

She looked so cheerful and bright when she first bothered him, that it made him wonder how any human can be so happy in this cruel world. 

Even when he ignored her, giving clear indications to leave him alone, she greeted him everyday with a smile, never did he imagine that she was going through something so painful, but covered it with an innocent, bright smile, hiding the pain behind her bright forest green eyes, locking the pain away in the depths of those forests. 

The thought on how she was talking with him was still lingering in his mind. 

Neha noticed him hesitating, trying to say something, but stopping himself. It was probably the question everyone she met asked her, how was she able to understand what they were saying. “I mouth read" she said softly, clarifying his unasked question. 

“Do you not want to go? To the audition I mean. It's really rare for them to accept.” He said softly, confused. An unusual tone for an intimidating guy like him.

Normally Neha wouldn't speak about a sensitive topic like this, but she somehow trusted him. She wanted to get things off her chest, she felt like she needed to share her feelings to the arrogant boy who had always snapped at her.

“I applied for this three years ago" she replied.

She couldn't complete her sentence.

“I became deaf.” she choked out.

“And I can’t hear the music anymore.” She whispered more to herself. By then, she could not hide her tears, they welled up in her eyes dripping down her long lashes. Just like his patience, he was never empathetic either. He perfectly understood how it felt when one cannot their own dreams. Neha walked away, not wanting to hear his words of pity.

“I can help you.” Aman suddenly blurted. 

“Help you follow your dreams, I mean” he continued. “You can count to the music or feel the vibrations of the music, or maybe-”

“Why are you saying this?” she stopped to cut him off.  “It's because I know how it feels when you can't follow your dreams” he whispered, his voice laced with sorrow. 

“We could go for the auditions together” he tried convincing again. “I also need some inspiration,” he added. She nodded reluctantly.

So it started. She practiced her three years old rusted steps, without the music. It was difficult, and it pained when she couldn't hear the beauty of the melody. She knew the song by heart, she used to listen to it when she was still blessed with the power to listen. She choreographed it getting the old thrill of dancing bursting through her veins. Aman did not talk to her much though. He just sat on the floor of her dance room, sketching, racking his brain for ideas, crumbling useless papers. 

Sometimes he looked at her in approval, otherwise in annoyance, because her timing was wrong. Other than that he was in his own world.

Aman could not deny the fact that she was inhumanly graceful. She was doing a great job without the music. Sure, she did a few mistakes. Actually, a lot of mistakes, but she caught up fast. She felt demotivated at times, but got back up in no time. But he was racking his brain for his yet to start painting. He tried a few ideas he had, to the eyes of others they may have looked magnificent, but he couldn't feel the perfection, or the satisfaction. 

Neha stopped with the final pose, at the perfect timing. She stopped elegantly in a pirouette. She synchronized with the song and stopped perfectly for the first time. 

Aman knew what to paint. He pulled out a fresh sheet, his blunt charcoal pencils and started his rough. It had to be perfect. 

Neha, whilst still in the pose looked at him for approval. She was hoping she did coordinate with the non existent music. Aman nodded. “You did well” his face blank. But his eyes said otherwise, they were smiling. Neha grinned. 

Aman finished his painting, with perfection radiating from it. And yes, he was satisfied. He was going to present it on stage.

The day they have been waiting for arrived. They were sitting at the back of the taxi together.

His canvas was covered in cloth in his lap.

“Why won't you let me see?” She asked pouting, flattening her skirt’s frills. It was a beautiful, royal blue. 

“I don't want to.” he replied, staring out the window.

“Please?” She asked again,

“It's a surprise, alright?” he finally revealed, his voice soft. Neha grinned and nodded. “Are you nervous?” She asked him looking away from her sweating palms to his face for an answer. He shook his head in negativity. “You?” He asked.

“I think I'm nervous and excited at the same time.” She admitted. 

“What are your names?” The person in front of the back stage doors asked. “Neha Shah and Aman Thakur” “I'm sorry, only one can enter.”, was the reply.

“What?” Neha asked shocked. No, that is not possible. “We have time for only one participant. The judge has another important appointment.” 

“B-but there has to be some other way right? Both of us got accepted!” How cruel the world is. Luck surely had a grudge against him, it made him wonder if such a thing called luck existed. She looked at Aman “We can't-”

 “Go” he interrupted her. She looked at him in bewilderment. “What?” She whispered, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

“Go.” He said again, looking at her intently.

“What do you mean?” She questioned, wondering if she read what he said wrong. “I meant what I said. You need to go more than I do.” 

“Show them that even though you can't hear, it's not stopping you from reaching your goals.”

“But-”

“Now go, I'll be watching you.” He said, the corner of his lips tilting a little. He was smiling. Neha teared up a bit. “Thank you” she whispered and walked inside.

Neha did it. People were absolutely amazed. She was one of the first deaf ballet dancers. 

Kaisha Shah walked into the antique museum with her friends. She was a journalist. She kept on scrolling through things the artifacts until she came to the painting section. A painting caught her eye, She took a second glance at it, making sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her.

She looked at the information box.

This is a painting, estimated to be painted during the years 1972- 1974 It is a painting found in a house which was burnt inti ashes. It is a painting of the late, graceful, well-known deaf dance, Neha Shah, a woman who earned respect from all of us. Behind the canvas, there are the words written: ‘I gave up on my dream for her, but it was worth it, she needed it more than I did’

The reason behind the words are unknown, and the artist is unknown. This painting surely a beauty.

Kaisha stood there, staring at her late mother, a painting of her which made her look so real. Her face was beautifully sculpted, her limbs so graceful, her smile, dazzling. Who painted her mother? Who could it possibly be? No one ever did such a thing. This showed the person had deep respect for her. She looked at the signature at the bottom corner of the page. Oh, there was a sign alright, but whose?

The painting was beautiful though who painted it still remains unknown. It was signed by unknown.

 “I gave up my dreams for her, but it was worth it. She needed it more than I did.”

~Anonymous