Dear God

Meera's fingers trembled as she tied her ankle bells for the final audition. Years of Bharatanatyam practice had led here, to this moment where her classical art might finally sustain her dreams. She'd danced through doubt, through empty studios and skeptical relatives who questioned whether tradition could earn real income. The music began, and she surrendered completely. Her body became prayer, each mudra a whispered plea to something greater. When the judges announced her acceptance, Meera wept. She would teach others now, passing flame to flame. Her heritage wasn't just memory—it was livelihood, identity, legacy flowing through generations dancing together.