Redemption of Royals (Royal #1: Book 3) | ✔

6

-• distraction •-

Taranya

"I teach all types of Indian classical. Which one do you want to learn? Kathak? Bharatnatyam? Lavni -"

"This one," I show her the phone screen.

She takes a look at the video, watches the performance for a fleeting moment and chuckles. "It's semi classical. A fusion of modern contemporary styles with Indian classical. Very popular among you teens."

"Teach me." I whisper. "Please."

Her eyes bore into mine. And I wonder if she sees it. The way I'm dying to liberate myself from the past. It often comes haunting me in the night. Thoughts swarm my head. What-ifs wiggle like snakes, poisoning every shred of optimism around me.

"You don't even know what you want to learn."

"Make my body move so my head stops going places." I request.

"I'm Smriti Shah." She holds out her hand. "Your Guru."

The corners of my lips go up in joy. I eagerly hold her hand. "Thank you."

She nods and pulls away. "Fill out the form at reception and you'll receive your schedule in a week's time. Excuse me. I've a class." She pats my shoulder before walking away.

I clasp my hands to my chest, looking inside the studio room through the transparent walls. My feet move closer, hand glides down the glass. I watch, mesmerized as their limbs move, feet twirl, the music controls them, as if it's the blood flowing through their veins. I can't wait to feel this. I can't wait to lose myself in that calmness. Anger is easy to express. Agastya helps me deal with those raging emotions quiet efficiently in the gym. What remains is the grief, the ripping sadness that stays cooped up, a whirlwind of storm encased in the corner. Permanently home.

"Ma'am?" My head turns. The blonde woman smiles politely at me. "The application," she holds the piece of paper in her hand. I receive it. "You'll need a passport size photo too." She informs me before retreating back to her place behind the desk.

I take seat in the lounge area and grab a pen from my backpack. Putting the form on the tea table in front of me, I fill it meticulously. It takes me a moment to ransack my bag for the photo but I find it. A few minutes later, I'm standing in front of the receptionist, the completed form in my hand.

She takes it from me and glances through the content. A look of satisfaction crosses her eyes and she tilts her head, our gazes lock. "When your admission is confirmed, you'll receive a link to deposit the advance payment. Once we receive the confirmation email, we'll send you the schedule."

"Thank you," I nod.

She smiles back. "Have a great day ahead."

I exit the three storey building. My eyes flicker behind to read the name of the academy.

Nritya Nivas

I was on my way home from the University. Dancing didn't cross my mind after that evening in Veer Mahal when I had prepared dinner with Agastya. It had taken a backseat among all the chaos happening. But today, I stopped at the red light, where I had been stopping for the last one month, and my eyes drifted towards the building, as it always did, and I read the name, one that had been resonating in my head for the last two weeks.