Author - Jui Purohit.

 "Hurry up kids. Make a line. The participants of kathak dance please go to room no.2. Participants for singing category please go to room no.1", the teacher was repeating the instructions, back stage. "Let me help you with the kathak dance participants. You can manage others", I suggested the teacher. "Oh! Thankyou so much Mam. You don't know what a great help you have been, since few days. Since your daughter mentioned that you are a very good dancer and that you would help us with the annual function, I could breathe finally. You can see how chaotic it gets, managing children of all ages. Mam, thanks for the help", the teacher said, with a broad smile. I was delighted that I could help them, even if it was anything related to dance. I had been attending their rehearsals, past few days. My daughter was happy too. She proudly boasted about her mother being skilled with dance moves. She would ask me to show the mudras, the stance, the footsteps, and wh...

  I yanked each garment that was drying on the clothesline. I sat on the bed, ringed by clothes. I folded, one by one, neatly and stacked into different piles. Sorting out my clothes, my husband's, kid's, daughter's and son's separately. And my MIL. She was very particular about the folds and the organised manner in which the clothes were put. But this was my daily chore and now it was just another mechanical activity like many others. Be it cooking food or cleaning kitchen, be it arranging kid's things in the room or husband's table, be it organising wardrobes or kitchen shelves. These household chores had become my life, though there was no adventure or no thrill in what I did, I had got accustomed to it. Alternatively, I had trained my mind to adapt. Dance was my passion, acting was what I wanted to do, posing in front of camera with spotlights on me, closeups of my glowing face, everything I had ever imagined few years ago was just a delightful dream now. Th...

 My dad was a salaried man. He did a 9 to 5 job. But we were a middle class well-off family. We could afford good meals, good education. My mother could attend her kitties, I could watch Madhuri's movies, could afford to buy those costumes for my dances and performances. My younger brother was a football fan. He took football coaching in a good academy. Everything was hunky-dory. My father knew about my obsession with movies and acting, so he decided to meet a producer and take a glimpse at that world. He did some ground work, researched a few names in bollywood, met a few people. Finally he announced that he has some savings that he is investing in a movie. He smiled at me and said that he wants my dream to come true. He would launch me too, his movie debut along with mine. I was excited. I jumped and hopped everywhere in the house. I kissed my mom a thousand times, hugged my dad and did a ball dance with my brother, twirling him till he got dizzy. We had a celebratory dinner that...

  Hair tied up in a messy bun, secured with a clutcher, sloppy strands of hair falling on the sweaty forehead, a perfect housewife look. A cotton saari, with the end of which, I dab the sweat on my forehead. Stains of flour on my cheeks, just like the Dimple Kapadia in 'Bobby'. Take one - "Bahu, did the kids have their breakfast?", the Sasuma of the house yells. "Haanji mummy", I reply. "Then make fresh paranthas for your daddyji and me. Stuff some extra paneer and add extra dollops of butter, ghar ka makkhan not bazaarwala", she orders. "Haanji Mummy", my dialogues are mostly limited. There's laundry wala bhaiyya at the door. I turn the gas to low and rush to hand over the bag of clothes for ironing. "Bahu...there's some awful smell coming from the kitchen. Did you burn the paranthas?", this Sasuma has a sharp nose. I rush back to the kitchen. "Nahi Mummyji nothings wrong in here", I cover up. I throw the burn...

 Dance was my passion. Whenever a new song of Madhuri was released, I used to get the video cassette home and watch it on repeat. I perfected the steps and swayed and twirled to the music. Madhuri's songs drove me crazy! Humko aajkal hai intezaar....The song would play and my body would gyrate automatically catching every beat. Phasi gori chane ke khet mei....And my hands stretched out with thumbs pointing upwards, me making circles, imitating the signature step. How could you not shake your leg to Ke Saraa saraa... or a Tumma tumma? Won't it be unfair to your limbs? I used to dress up like her and perform at the family functions or college annuals. I loved grooming up myself. The makeup room, the lights, the smell of the cosmetics, the confidence that stepped a notch higher as I saw my reflection in the mirror - Glittering from top to bottom, glowing face, shiny hair, dazzling outfit, Aww! I was in love with me. Studies wasn't my predilection. I remember I bunked classes i...