Just Two Eyebrows

Just Two Eyebrows (Book published and available on Amazon India, Flipkart, Kindle, US and UK stores)

It is just a line. A thin line is all it is. Then why do we make so much of it? The two hirsute lines divide the space between our eyes and our forehead, that’s why. To anyone these lines, called eyebrows, are important. But, to a dancer, they are perhaps things of utmost importance.

When Niranjana began training in the dance form called Kathak under the tutelage of the eminent Pandit Sridhar Maharaj, she learnt the importance of this line in the very first few lessons.

‘Niranjana dear,’ he told her ‘raise your eyebrows with this pose when you are looking from the corner of your eye. And when you want to express anger, you must arch your eyebrows, just so.’ He would then walk over and personally supervise this using his thumb to ensure her eyebrows toed the line of instruction.

It did not take long for Niranjana to pick up all the nuances of the dance form. Her eyebrows then became one of her most expressive feature and she used them to show a myriad of the many dance expressions. So adept was she in the use of this eyebrow line that she could convey any expression, in one swift fluid movement, just by a mere lift of those midnight black eyebrows of hers.

Decades later, her fame traveled far and wide to distant countries and continents. Her two secretaries were hard put to accommodate every invitation to dance that was received by her office.

‘Niranjana Ma’am, there is this Indian temple in Chicago that is opening on the 5th. They would like to include your dance performance after the Santoor recital by Pandit Lakshmi Prasad. But, you are in India on the 4th performing at the National Art Institute whose Art Fest is being opened by the Honorable Prime Minister himself. And then on the 7th you have promised to be in New Zealand for a function of the Indian Embassy there. So, should we send a decline note to the temple in Chicago?’ Puneeta, her secretary, was asking.

Niranjana watched her quietly, through her narrowed eyes. She was very pleased with what she saw. Puneeta had been her secretary for the last six years. A victim of an acid attack by a young man whose overtures Puneeta had rebuffed, she had been scarred, lonely and crying when Niranjana first saw her at the Delhi New City Hospital in the city. Having performed a dance program at the hospital’s special day when a new wing had been inaugurated, she had been later invited for high tea with Mrs. Khanna, the hospital superintendent, and a few senior doctors each with an enviable track record in their respective departments. One of the hospital’s doctors was Dr. Som Banerjee, a well-known name in the area of reconstructive surgery. He had spoken to her about his rather difficult plastic surgery on an acid victim recently. He had also told Niranjana about Puneeta’s background and story. It had moved something so deep within Niranjana’s soul that she had agreed to be a part of Puneeta’s rehabilitation and had offered to even employ her once she was recovered and discharged. Today, several years later, Puneeta, with her kohl-lined grey eyes, a full mout

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h with lips a color of blush rose, and smooth cheeks that sported the tan of unharvested wheat sprigs growing in a field, looked just as if the painful incident had never occurred. The doctor had indeed done a marvelous job. She was glad Puneeta was there to handle everything for her from her appointments to even Rashi. Ah, Rashi!

Puneeta was still waiting patiently for an answer. She looked at Ma’am and reflected on the older woman’s tremendously kind soul. She was also so beautiful with her tall slender dancer’s frame, sharp nose and expressive eyes, dark lush mane, and her classic eyebrows that said so much without actually voicing the words.

Softly without sounding intrusive, Puneeta said again, ‘Ma’am, what should we do about the invitation to the dance recital requested in the Chicago temple.’ Collecting her thoughts, Niranjana hesitatingly replied as if she was torn between two hard choices, ‘No don’t decline the Chicago event. A dance in the newly inaugurated temple I will simply not miss. It is my karma to be a part of all temple events. To dance there would be an honor. Send a cancellation to the Art Institute. In any case I never quite understood how my dance program was to fit in that busy schedule there. Fifteen minute dance recitals are way too short. Cancel it.’

‘But, Ma’am, they said…’ Puneeta’s voice wavered dropping off mid-sentence when she saw Niranjana’s arched brow and quizzical eyes looking back at her.

‘And yes, are we confirmed on the flight to Kochi on 10th? All arrangements are completed, I hope. I am looking forward to meet Rashi again. It has been three full weeks,’ asked the doting mother in Niranjana.

Now that is a story that really no one fully knew, the one about Rashi and Niranjana. Nor did anyone know about the middle aged man who sat in the empty front row of so many dance programs and left just before the last dance ended. Everyone who followed celebrities must have done a search on the internet about the ones they admired. The internet and grapevine usually had enough gossip about even the most obscure celebrities. But neither the internet, nor celebrity magazines, or even the chasing paparazzi could glean any of the secrets that Niranjana held tightly hugged to her bosom. If Niranjana was the celebrity dancer who everyone wanted at their functions and she had never married, then who was the young Rashi, she called a daughter? And why did Niranjana always ask the program organizers for five empty front row seats as part of all her contractual agreements with them? One of these empty front row seats would inevitably be occupied by the mystery man who would suddenly appear mid-performance only to vanish unexpectedly somewhere towards the end. As if he had come just for a brief interlude while Niranjana danced on the stage. And, if someone followed him, they would be at the receiving end of Niranjana’s censure and displeasure. With her raging popularity as one of the best classical dancers in the country, no one wanted to risk her ire.......

... To Read Complete Book and other rib-tickling, funny stories, thought provoking stories, and more, my book "Just Two Eyebrows" is available on Amazon & Flipkart)