I stand behind the dark, blood-red curtains, silently waiting for the faint ring of bells, the starting sound. I watch the other dancers on stage, they seem so much more graceful than me. I move the curtain ever so slightly, looking out into the seemingly endless crowd. Their eerie gaze seemed like they were criticizing the dancers’ every move. My mind started racing with a million thoughts a second. I wondered, what if I mess up? What if I fall? Just the thought of it could give me a heart attack. 

The butterflies in my stomach flutter with every breath I take. I am reluctant to move from my safe spot, hidden from the view of empty, hollow eyes. The cold air backstage settles softly on my skin, slowly raising every hair on my arm. Chills creep up my spine, and I stand up straighter, more alert.

I turn around and see my friends, each and every one of them grinning from ear to ear. Watching them made me feel happier; it gave me relief, like Atlas's weight being lifted off my shoulders.

I can feel the doubt and reluctance searching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, but I reassure myself. I will try as hard as possible not to ruin anything.

I look back at the small opening in the curtains, and then I hear it. The bells. Soft. Quiet. Chiming. For a moment, I stop. I take in the beautiful, mesmerizing sounds I had already heard thousands and thousands of times before, but this time… It’s different; it echoes across the galaxies of my mind, snapping me back to reality. I know what I have to do.

The curtains open, and slowly, one by one, all of the dancers in my section start to walk out. I trail behind them, the very last one. My dress shines in the light, the only one different from the others. My bangles, jhumka, necklace, and anklets jingle softly with every step. More bells. Jingle. Chime. Slowly, I walk out, positioning myself in the center of the stage. I look out into the crowd, everyone’s eyes watching, waiting, for something magical. I can’t explain why, but for some reason, it is calming. 

The rest of the dancers take their spots as well, our teacher making final corrections, and then, something shifts inside of me.

Boom. 

Boom.

Boom. 

A loud heartbeat. It was mine. My insides started to bubble up. My heart could leap out of me at any moment. 

Then, the music starts. I am prepared. Ta-ki-tha ta-ki-tha. Ta-jum Ta-jum They di-di they.  We all start the first step in sync. The namaskaram. The prayer. My spirit soars. We throw rose petals into the air. My spirit soars. We all move together, perfectly in sync. My spirit soars. I hear the bells. My spirit soars. I spot familiar faces in the crowd, silently cheering me and my friends on—my spirit soars. I feel the warmth of the stagelight on my skin. My spirit soars. 

I smile, making sure the cameras get my best angle, perfecting each and every movement, watching my red, mehendi-covered hands as they glide with the rhythm of the beautiful, mesmerizing music. “This isn’t as bad as I thought! What was I so worried about?” For a second, I look back and I see the dark, blood-red curtains once more. I can see the difference. It’s bittersweet. All it took was one tiny decision to go from the cold, dark space behind the curtains and the warm, inviting stage. At that moment, I realized that all I needed to do was take a leap of faith. I did it! I am one with the music. Finally, I am at peace.

Since that evening, I have performed many, many more times. With every new performance, there are fewer and fewer butterflies. The chills no longer creep up my spine. Now, I can fully embrace the moment, finding genuine joy and connection with the audience instead of being consumed by my own anxiety. The energy that was once my fear has transformed into excitement, empowering me to deliver an amazing performance that is confident, perfect, genuine, and authentic.