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Have you ever been attached to things like old metal pieces and stained worn out cotton strings. I recently realized, I have.

As I was making space in my cupboard for my books my eyes traced a blue colored bag in the corner of the shelf while my hands were still busy pilling up my books. Without any other thought, they got hold of the bag. My fingers opened the bag with a sudden excitement of meeting an old friend. As soon as the bag opened , memories started floating out of it filling up my atmosphere. I took out what sat inside silently, they weren’t made of silence but for music to ears that recognized the beauty of art. As I pulled them out, they started chattering, I waited till they stopped.

They were old metal pieces, older than me, a little younger than my mother. Metal pieces bent into beautiful curves with metal beads in them which touch the curves defining music. Plaited into a braid on a cotton string which had stained because of the metal and my sweat, worn out at the ends.

They were my ghunghroos, the one I put on when I wanted to experience art and creativity in the form of Katha, the one which my mom passed on to me, a possession of her childhood.

I smelled them, their  love travelled through my lungs and spread to every cell. The heart kicked up beating a bit faster as if charged up by some energy.

And then the memories around me started showing up like tiny lightning flashes. Showing the marks I had on my legs while wearing them, showing my first dance teacher who after a few years left the city, showing my second dance teacher who made me fall in love with dance, showing how she used to make us stand in a single posture for hours, showing how she taught us discipline, showing my first day at guruji’s class (my third teacher), showing me admire her passion and creativity.

The smell of the ghunghroos and memories went back into the bag but the energy still lingered on in me.

And I thought,

How do these heavy pieces of metal make me feel so light, enabling me to swirl with musical wings.