An Empty Stage

It was one of those foggy winter mornings when the real is as blurred as a dream. There were very few cars in the parking lot. And even fewer people were standing in front of the hall door, like guards of a secret chamber. 

My dad said goodbye to me as I walked towards the hall door, shifting the fog like a wanderer, removing the curtain of white shadows. Everything seemed white, black, and grey.

Out of the cloud, I saw a red glove extend towards me and the warm handshake of my dance mentor, greeting me with a pleasant, “Good Morning.” I replied with a half-frozen smile to him and to other company members who had also come early. 

All of them carried bags full of costumes, props, masks, and stage makeup with them. I carried only the essential things required for that day’s performance. I was a little embarrassed to always be so early on the performance day.

Even during daily dance class, I had a bad habit of coming as early as the guard with the lock. But other senior company members also had this habit. I was the new one among them. So, I was always shy and did my warm-up and stretches like they were doing.

Likewise, on that winter morning, when the hall door of the auditorium opened, I entered shyly with other senior company members. It was weird to see the big place so empty. dark, with huge boxes mounting up here and there and lengthy wiring stranded like snakes at the foot of even longer stairs. The lights hung high, up to the ceiling, which was invisible. The sweep of the black, green, and red curtains backstage was as if they were whispering gossip of the last show among themselves. We were the only ones making noise in that musty silence. 

I helped everyone carry the heavy bags to the green room and hurriedly went out; otherwise, I will have to engage in general pleasantries. I am a civil person who does not know how to start a conversation with anyone. I wanted to explore the silence of the auditorium. It was unusual and yet attractive. I wanted to find out how the auditorium looks and feels when there are no people there. 

I walked in silence, almost tiptoeing as if I would wake up some sleepy phantom of the opera! The moment I opened a door and took a few steps forward, suddenly the stage lights switched on. I was standing on an empty stage, exposed, with the long red curtains parted on either side to reveal the seats for the audience. I felt something but didn’t know what. My nerves were numb, and I could hear my own heart beating silently in an equal rhythm. 

Did I hear a voice? NO. Oh, it might be other company members arriving for the annual performance. But I thought I heard a voice, probably from the audience seat. Or was it a clap like someone was teasing me to look beyond the side stairs? But there was no one, and the silence was beautiful. 

I searched for more clues about life. A student’s sock was lying by the side of a curtain. There were some strings or maybe black wires lying in the stage wings. I went inside the left wing of the stage and tried to feel the stage lights. 

Suddenly ballerinas appeared like pink blossoms, flying and dancing everywhere. I saw a young girl sitting in the audience with wonder in her eyes, dreaming that someday she would dance like one of the fairy ballerinas. She will conquer the world with her beauty and graceful dance. 

I shook myself out of this reverie and started walking on the stage once again. From the left to the right side, I started to walk as if measuring the stage. But I wanted to feel the often ignored edges of the stage. Our dance teachers always reminded us to stay away from the edges, or else we would fall down or not be properly visible for the camera. 

That reminded me of the position of the cameraman. I always thought that the cameraman who covers the event of the day has the best seat in the auditorium. He is the one who can see everything through the lens, maybe a few things not visible to the audience.

I walked down the stage and ran towards where the cameraman usually stands to record the video. OMG! Of course, the cameraman can see absolutely everything from that central position. He can see the flaws; he can see the slight hesitation of the dancer when she is standing in the wings, preparing herself, before she takes a sudden flight and transforms into a confident character that owns the world. 

The cameraman can see who is a follower and who is the leader in the group dance. He can see even the fingers of the dancer when he lifts another dancer up as if rocking a big bouquet of flowers, finally placing her on the stage floor as she finally escapes to the other side. He can see when a dancer is sneakily trying to adjust their costume that has come undone. He can see the dancer giving a cue to his partner to shift and give him more space on the stage. 

I am sorry, am I missing something? Of course, I need to stand in the centre of the stage. I ran toward the stage again, still listening to the comings of more dancers arriving in their green room. 

I stood there for some time. Centerstage is the place I want to be when I dance solo. I will move with magic, and the stage lights will follow me. The eyes of the audience follow me. The stage lights are blue. Yes, blue lights look beautiful with yellow light in the background. The blue spotlight will be on me as I soar to the sky. 

Wait, am I dreaming too much? But this is the stage. Even when it is silent, it speaks volumes. The empty seats have the presence not of critics but of appreciation since I am not a star right now. But maybe one day I will be a star. 

Performing on a big stage is the dream of millions of dancers like me. The only way is to create art endlessly. Create art that touches the soul of the audience. A stage is where many dreams come true. The stage inspires people. The stage makes a stronger connection between the artist and the audience. The stage that is so much bigger than anyone’s dream.