Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

Swetha reached out her bony fingers towards the feather on the ground. She was careful not to allow the caked mud on her hands and inside her fingernails to take away the beauty of her new prize. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. An almond shaped feather with ringlets of blue, purple and green arranged in a way that gave the whole feather the image of an attentive eye.

Just holding it in her hands made her feel that she was going to accomplish something…something that she had always wanted to do. She looked down at her frayed clothes, scrawny limbs and let her weak fingers touch her disheveled hair. Her eyes stung with tears. “I’ll never be able to become a dancer,” she cried softly.

“Yes you will, my dear. The first peacock feather I found carried me very far,” said a voice behind. Startled, Swetha turned to look at the owner of the voice.

15 years later…

Swetha felt every muscle in her arm stretching and she finished the lovely movement with a graceful turn on her poised foot to end the step in perfect timing with the music. The bliss that she felt with each movement was indescribable. She was more than proud and contented to feel the stage lights piercing into her eyes, to feel more than a thousand pairs of eyes focusing only on her, and to hear a deafening applause after each complicated routine.

After a few more routines, she went down on her knees, her hands in the humble namaskar, yet proud with victory; her heart heavy with emotions yet light with happiness; her body tired from dancing, yet fresh with her passion for the art. More tears stained her cheeks as she saw the audience stirring for a standing ovation.

Her eyes moved around wildly for her teacher, her guru, whom without, she would have remained as Swetha the orphan. ‘Reynu Amma’ as she fondly called her was standing near the wing clapping with all her might. Dedication, love and patience were visible in every wrinkle on her face.

10 years later…
Swetha carefully stepped over the huge rock and tried to balance on it as her husband playfully pulled the washed clothes away from her hands. But when she turned to face him, her eyes rested instead on a scene beyond her husband’s shoulders. It was a small girl looking alternately at her reflection in the river and at something in her hand.

Swetha walked briskly to the girl and stared in amazement as she heard a very familiar phrase. “I would never be able to become like Swetha Madam.” Swetha put her hand on the girl’s tiny shoulder and turned her body towards her. She recognized the pain and determination in her eyes.

She held her tiny face in her hands and said, “The art does not choose the dancer. The dancer chooses the art. The dance doesn’t know how pretty you are, how tall you are, or how intelligent you are. Dance does not control the strength of your body. You do. It is not just skin deep, but it comes from the burning fire of passion from the very depths of your heart. If your love for dance can remain stronger than the pain you experience from surrendering your body to dance, you will shine. Because when you see a good dancer, you would know that she must have broken at least 1/20 of her bones and torn 1/15 of her muscles before.

She let out a soft giggle and looked down shyly. “What is your name?” Swetha received silence for an answer.

“I will call you Lasya.” Swetha couldn’t decide which was brighter, the sun, or Lasya’s eyes. “Come with me and I’ll decide which muscle you tear, which leg you sprain, and which direction you fall in.”

Having said that, Swetha guided Lasya back to her husband. As Sanjay carried Lasya into his arms, he whispered softly into Swetha’s ear, “Even Reynu Amma wouldn’t be able to recognize that speech.”

Smiling, Swetha reached for Lasya’s hand that she had been hiding behind her all this while. “Ah, I see you have very colorful hope in your hand. Hope is a thing with feathers. I will help you to blow it further.”

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“Hope is the thing with feathers” happens to be a line in a poem written by Emily Dickinson. Indeed, it flies from individual to individual and lights up the darkest lives. Never lose hope; never keep it all to yourself. Share it with those who need it, become the person who gives hope. Let others feel that life is worth living. You can make a difference.