Late afternoons often found her sitting alone, still and straight. Her mind would travel years back in time, when the house was full of children’s laughs and echoing footfalls. In a flash, hours and days had molded into long years of cooking dinners, attending PTA meetings and finishing yet another load of laundry.
Now the house sat quiet, reminiscing of a din long gone. The children had moved out and her husband was indulging yet another hobby. One evening, a sliver of sunshine happened to escape the curtain’s stern guard. Through the dance of dust mites, she happened upon her reflection. Her eyes and her face told stories of the years gone by and the errands they had seen through.
There were no stories of her own. There was not even a hint of the flame that once shone bright in her eyes; it was extinguished long ago.
A muted glint from a hidden corner caught her attention – somehow her old ghungru* had managed to dapple in the last light of the setting sun. It had been so long she had seen them – she had almost forgotten how they felt tied at her ankles. With trembling fingers she handled them delicately, more precious than any gem in the world.
What if….? Dare she even dream…?
The next afternoon saw her tentatively clearing a space and dusting out her old dancing clothes. As her feet slowly became accustomed to the once-familiar weight of her ghungru, the years melted away and she fell into a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. On days when she was not at dance school, the curtains were firmly drawn back as she conducted personal concerts under the sunny spotlight.
She was not a daughter, a wife or a mother then. She was a dancer. She was an artist. She was her chosen form. She was blowing at the cool embers, re-kindling a fire that had almost blown out. It was never too late to spark it back!
Written for Sue’s prompt – Flame. I took it as a metaphor and ran away with it! Hope that is okay…
*Ghungru: is one of many small metallic bells strung together to form Ghungrus, a musical anklet tied to the feet of classical Indian dancers.
I totally LOVE this!!
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Thank you Ritu 😀
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💜
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Fabulous writing.. Such an inspirational one 😇☺️
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Thank you, Jai!
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Wonderful. There are many old feet like hers waiting to step into the rhythm of creativity…
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Thank you, Mani! I hope many more feet join her….
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Wonderful, what an energizing and uplifting post, Prajakta!
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Thank you very much, Erika 🙂 Writing this energized me as well!
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I can imagine that very well!
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Beautiful Prajakta, I felt like joining her in her joy 🙂
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Thanks a lot Irene ! 🙂
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A very beautiful story, Prajakta. Thank you.
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Thank you Sue 🙂
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This is lovely piece of work prajakta
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Everyone has some dream, some passion , some talent which they have buried within long time and need that to be rekindled as u say.. Beyond the circumstances beyond the constraints..
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Thank you so much! I hope we all make our way back to our dreams.
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I love this! It’s like remembering who she is, instead of the roles she takes on. Lovely.
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Thank you, Joey 🙂
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Its one among the thousand sacrifice of woman’s life in the busy run to take care of loved ones☺
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Absolutely! I hope more women come out of them and do something only for themselves!
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Beautiful is not the perfect word to describe this story. But, what can replace that I am not getting it. The story is very much intriguing and reflect the original picture of many in unison.
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That is so kind of you… Thank you so much!
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Very well written Prajakta. Congrats. Keep it up.
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Thank you!
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Wonderfully written Prajakta. It was raw and heartfelt.
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Thanks a lot, Amrit 🙂
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It is never too late to do anything in life, especially what you once loved. Quite motivating read 😊
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Glad you liked it, Alok 🙂 Thank you!
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I really love this, she regained her spark and fanned the flames of her desire to dance 🙂
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Thank you so much, Judy!
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Social roles.. come.. and go..
and are most definitely
hard for let go…
when they
stay for
decades past..
A time oF same..
A time for change..
to create a social role
oF art most freeing of what i
for one say.. no bosses.. no slaves..
Art works for liGht and waves by past storms distress..
yes.. when life comes play and social role is no longer work..
And yeS.. even homemaker and maid for no pay at all.. a
greater
way
for free..
social role create..:)
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Creativity and art are so free-flowing… We are all the same and unique here.
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Wise words..
My friEnd..
With liGht..:)
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You have described it so well and painted expression into the character’s aspirations and art to follow passion. Brilliant.
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I am glad you liked it, Vishal 🙂 Thank you.
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It is fabulous how you took the prompt flame and wrote such a unique piece.
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Thanks a lot 🙂
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[…] Continue reading here: Flame #writephoto […]
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This post is why I read blogs – I would never have thought of this idea for this prompt. Lovely!
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Thank you so much, Robbie! This means a lot..
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Such a lovely take… and so true for most women around the world! ❤️
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Thank you, Anisha ❤
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Well, this made me smile. Our younger selves are still waiting for us to catch up to them! (K)
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Thank you 🙂
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So beautifully written…It reminded me of the first chapter of bridges of madison county, the words so aptly chosen to weave the story 🙂
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Thank you Shweta! I need to look up that book now 🙂
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Excellent job! When we’ve practiced until a passion becomes second nature, the spark is always there, waiting to be re-ignited. It’s never too late. The body remembers.
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Thank you so much, JoAnna! The body always remembers – muscle memory is one amazing phenomenon!
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Yes!
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This is beautiful. And she became something just for her. A dancer. Beautifully written.
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Thank you, Deb 🙂
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Prajakta, you have such a gift of writing. You touch on every aspect of drawing a reader into the story. Bravo!
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Thank you for your kind words 🙂
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The flame was just in need of a tiny spark! 🙂
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Exactly 😀 Thanks a lot!
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Beautifully crafted inspirational work on words.
Lovely work Prajakta👌📝👍
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Thank you Prashant 🙂
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My pleasure!!☺
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[…] Prajakta at An Armchair Perfectionist […]
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How beautiful. I can feel how the passion, the inner flame lights up again when she starts moving and dancing again…
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Thank you Sandra 🙂
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Beautifully written. 🙂 Isn’t it sad, though? To think of the years gone by…
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Absolutely … So many regrets and so many dreams!
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Love this!!!
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Thank you Lyn 🙂
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Most welcome
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From flame to so much more.Good work!
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Thank you 🙂
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An artist sure never dies.
The most lovely piece that I have read today.
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Thanks a lot for your kind words, Moushmi 🙂
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It’s never late to breathe and live passion. Such apt words used Prajakta to bring forth the ease, once she steps up to dance again. Beautiful.
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Ohhh how beautiful that she got back her dancing spirit!! 🙂 ❤
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Interesting read & it’s credible that you wrote such an amazing piece on prompt. Keep on posting the good stuff.
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