Hey there! :) Working on a Swaron FF. Will continue if there are enough takers. I figured i needed to give u something to start on and hence the first chapter.
Author's note: The central theme of this FF can be interpreted as a modern day tale of Pride and Prejudice in the backdrop of passion for dance and clashing ideologies regarding the same. At the very outset i would like to mention that it is too ambitious on my part to try and do a Jane Austen but if there is any love story i would want to mould in the etches of this timeless novel, however amateurish be the narration, it can be no other than swaron, a love story that has many layers to it and deserves to be told in as many ways as possible. I plan to write under the pseudonym of yellowsubmarine so those interested please add me or mention it in ur comments if u want me to continue and expect pms. Remember, i will continue only if you guys are willing to read.. No pressure at all.. :) Looking forward to ur response.. Without further ado..
Chapter 1
There are very few things that can excite kids born and brought up in hillstations, specially the ones where beautiful sightings are a routine experience and technology is yet to claim an ardent fan following. Also, not many of them associate excitement with the schools they are packed off to every morning, the thought of unfinished homework and classroom bullies vaguely etched in their sleepy heads. St. Mary School of Darjeeling was one proud exception. It had made sure that the children had something to look forward to after school hours and as the higher authorities smugly quoted "within the school premises".
These were the dance classes it conducted. The proud authorities could also be found boasting about its cost effectiveness since the instructors were its own pass outs and drop outs. Nostalgia and guilt kept the former and the latter from demanding high salaries and their love for dance ensured that they never quit their jobs. They could say this with conviction for atleast one of them. Swayam Shekhawat. He had dropped out from school in tenth grade to help his father with his work but a deep passion for dance and a sense of duty towards his school had brought him back when he was eighteen. What the authorities would never be heard saying however, was that the idea for these classes was proposed by the same student who after enduring a lot of ridicule and humiliation had convinced them to give him one chance.
It had been a successful venture from the very first day. For the children who were particularly smitten by the art it was nothing short of a spiritual experience. It surpassed their morning prayers in its connect and in its genuineness, it far exceeded the ones they were meant to chant in school before touching their lunchbox. For the ones who prefered other forms of recreation to dance, it hailed above surprise birthday cakes and unexpected holidays and it went down equally well with those who simply hated the idea of returning home early. Even for the unfortunate few who could not afford the dance lessons, a peep through the window of the rehearsal hall lessoned the hurt of going back home to poor parents and ageing grandmoms. Today, all of the aforementioned had gathered in the hall. Swayam had let the window peepers in too, which he did whenever he thought he could elude the watchful authorities.
As he watched the children scamper about tapping their feet to music, their tiny frames expressing the joy they felt inside, he felt a calm seldom felt at that age. His passion for dance defined his life and he was proud of the fact that it helped him bring smiles to these young faces. As he let his gaze browse their happy faces, his mind became aware of everything serene and beautiful around him, the bird at the window sill, the foggy weather outside, the calm of twilight, the chill of the impending nightfall, and when he started dancing his body beautifully essayed the happiness and peace he felt inside. He recalled the day he had embarked on this miraculous idea of pursuing his passion and simultaneously supporting his family.
"Are you insane?" the voice of his father had boomed.
"Since when did you become this intelligent?" his sister Taani had teased. In the end they let him pursue his plans, the simplicity of his dreams endearing him to all.
He cartwheeled across the room and delighted in the fact that he had found a perfect solution, that his life was no less than perfect. The applause and cheer from his students enhanced the rythm and beauty of his dance. He danced his heart out, much overwhelmed by the unadulterated love and gratitude that he felt emanating from his young audience. He finished with a perfect pose where he could see eye to eye with his reflection in the huge mirror that adorned the wall and reveled in the perfection of the moment.
What he was oblivious to at this moment, and in many more to come was that those who craved for perfection easily fell prey to the charm of those who could perfectly pull off imperfection. In another corner of the country, in the highly reputed institute of St. Louis, a fragment of imperfection existed, flawed and misguided but potent enough to change his seemingly perfect world.
Don't forget to hit the like button if this seemed like a story u would want to read. And would be very humbled if u could pm this to few of ur friends on my behalf. Ofcourse if u think this may be worthy of their interest.. love to all..
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