Translated from Hindi – posted originally at allpoetry.com/Abhilaaj.
‘’The audience respects me, they love my dance, my voice.’’
‘’I feel satisfied, elated whenever I dance in the courtroom,’’ She said to her Drum- player.
”I wish I danced all my life and the audience kept on clapping forever.”
‘’That the festivities never came to an end.’’
‘’Amin’’ said the Muslim Drum player, sincerely raising his hands skywards in prayer.
‘’The Bullock cart is ready, shall we move out Madam’’, She was asked.
However as she proceeded ahead wanting to caress her favorite Bull named Chetak she was dumbstruck to find him replaced.
‘’Where’s Chetak?’’ She asked the drum player.
‘’Didn’t he carry us to the palace of the King a month ago for a dance program?’’
‘’Kindly be patient Ballerina, Chetak is there in the palace of the new King’’,
We would meet him there.’’ the drummer requested her.
They went ahead for the dancing program to the palace of a new King.
After the dance was over in twilight, she told the drum player she wanted to meet
The drum- player drew out a new drum and started playing it with great enthusiasm.
The dancer could not stop herself and started dancing vigorously in company of the drum- player.
They were soon exhausted, very tired.
As they were packing up, the drum player revealed to her
''Do you know that you were dancing on the beat of a brand new drum made from the skin of Chetak.
‘’He got old !’’
The drum player said.