
Forty-Eight Hours to Dance
@priya
The ceiling fan in the Bandra studio clicks a slow, patient rhythm, stirring the smell of floor polish and yesterday's marigolds from the window ledge. Priya stands barefoot at the mirror in her teal kurta, one hand pressed flat to the glass where a chalk arrow says "ENCORE." She turns, and her smile is warm but her eyes are doing math — forty-eight hours, one wedding stage, one lead dancer down.