A Step Forward

Anisa was having trouble falling asleep. She was still bubbling with excitement over the parade her parents had taken her to that evening. Her little eyes had not known how to take in everything that was happening, but they had drunk it all in hungrily. Little Anisa had been afraid that if she closed them even for a moment, she would miss so much. Booming music, colourful costumes in every shape and size, singers who seemed to be giving it their all, always with a smile. And the dancing. So energetic, so quick, yet fluid and gentle too. The dances told stories of passion hotter than a thousand suns, of love as tender as a mother’s embrace, of friendship stretching back beyond memory. The air had seemed charged with electricity, somehow different. Sitting on her father’s shoulders, Anisa had gazed around her in wonder. Her little body had twitched as though answering the exuberant dancing. She had wanted to join in too.

The scenes came alive again in Anisa’s mind, and for a moment she even forgot that she was no longer at the carnival. Her restlessness got the better of her. She flung off the covers and jumped down onto the floor. A little radio lay on her desk; she sometimes switched it on. She hesitated for a moment, then gathered her courage. She would put on some music and have a little dance. Why not? At worst, she would get told off and go back to bed. Of course, she would have to tread quietly.

She did not even need to turn on the light. She knew exactly how to pick up the radio and tune it to her favourite station. And that was what she did, turning the volume down as low as it would go. Music spilled into the room, and Anisa half closed her eyes in delight. One of her favourite songs—what luck! She began to hum and move her feet. A step forward, a step back, a pause and a turn. Her body knew the dance perfectly; her heart simply followed the beat. Oh, what freedom. It was as though she were in a world of her own. Her audience was her little elephant, her teddy bear and her bunny. They were her most faithful audience, always pleased and impressed by her performance. How wonderful it would be if they could clap. A turn to the left, a wide step to the side, and onto the stage! Anisa imagined. The imaginary applause was not long in coming. And it was thunderous.

“Anisa!” a voice boomed.

Oh, no… Anisa thought. They’ve caught me! She opened her eyes and reached for the radio to conceal her midnight venture. But her hand did not find what it was looking for. Instead, she felt a dusty, threadbare carpet covering the floor. She looked up, and a bright light pierced her eyes. Once they had adjusted, she realised it was coming from spotlights. Stage spotlights. And the carpet led towards an enormous stage, partly concealed by enormous curtains. Dressed up like a doll, Anisa stood at the side of the stage, hidden behind them.

“Anisa, please come onto the stage!” It was the same voice.

Cold sweat broke out on her little forehead and crept downwards. She turned pale, and her feet seemed to take root in the floor. What do they mean, onto the stage? Anisa thought wildly. What is this stage? Where am I?! Her mind raced, rewinding everything, trying to understand how she had been in her bedroom only moments ago, and now—poof!—she was about to walk onto a stage.

As she stood rigid, unable to move a single step, something suddenly enveloped her. No, not something—a woman had knelt behind her and was holding her from behind, her warm palms enclosing Anisa’s little hands, frozen with fear. Anisa’s hands nestled in the woman’s like the tiny petals of a rose. And how soothingly warm they were. But something else caught her attention even more: the woman’s perfume. It was strange to Anisa, smelling of sea salt, lemon and seaweed. The sea, gentle waves… For a moment, her thoughts drifted away.

“Come on, Anisa. Take a step forward. The rest will fall into place,” the woman said softly and calmly. Anisa’s vision had blurred with tension, and she could make out only the outline of the woman who was now encouraging her to go onto the stage. She gathered her courage and, though her eyes were wide with terror, stepped onto the platform.

“But who… are you…?” Anisa asked, turning sharply towards the place where the woman had been. There were only curtains, with dust drifting down around them.

“The lovely Anisa, ladies and gentlemen! Our little pearl will perform the next dance for you!” At the other end of the stage, the host spoke into her microphone, looking out at the audience. Then she turned towards Anisa and gave her a thumbs-up, silently mouthing, “Good luck.”

The powerful spotlights bore into the little girl’s skin, while the audience sat motionless, shrouded in darkness. Darkness that Anisa feared. It was not the darkness of her bedroom. That quiet darkness, with no living audience. Here, things were different. How many people were watching? What would they think of her dance? What if they did not like it? She was not the best. She was not even good enough to be on a stage. How had she ended up here at all? Why had she thought she could walk onto such a big stage, in front of so many people? Why had she not simply run away while she could, instead of staying to be humiliated and talked about?

The music began, the speakers thundered, but Anisa did not move. She stared blankly into the dark. She thought she could hear giggles and mocking remarks. Just as she had expected. If she could have seen herself from the outside, she would have pitied herself too.

The music did not stop. The whispers grew louder, piercing Anisa’s little heart like needles. “I want to be like her too. She’s so beautiful,” Anisa suddenly heard, and it was as though she had surfaced from a sea of self-pity. Her eyes searched until she saw her: a little girl in the second row, directly opposite her. Their eyes met. The girl never took her gaze off Anisa, but there was nothing mocking in it. A bright flame, longing and admiration—those were what the dancer read in the young spectator’s eyes. A veil of silence settled over the room, and the distracting, irritating noise melted away. Anisa and the little girl. Anisa, the little girl. She blinked several times in bewilderment, then saw clearly: it was Anisa, younger than she was now. The very same Anisa whose parents had taken her to a concert. There, for the first time, she had witnessed the magic of dance and music, which had captivated her for ever. Pirouettes, energy, enchantment. And Anisa, feeling so lucky to have been there. Oh, how happy she had been, and how she had talked to her parents about that concert for weeks. She had tried clumsily to imitate the dancers, but technique had meant little to her. Her heart had danced, overflowing with happiness and grace. How many times had she “rehearsed” in her room, then rushed to show her parents, whom she held captive until the end of her “concert”? Sometimes, inspired by what she had seen, she would even invite one of them onto her “stage” as her “partner for the evening”. And round and round she would turn. They enrolled her in dance classes. Anyone watching closely would have concluded that Anisa spent every waking moment practising, whether in the studio or outside it.

Hot tears streamed down the little pearl’s face. They had welled up from her heart like a hot spring. Little Anisa in the audience smiled and nodded to Anisa on the stage. The little pearl now knew what to do. She burned, she brimmed over. Her body, paralysed with terror only moments before, could no longer contain all the love Anisa felt for dance. She was alone on the stage before an enormous audience, but her attention was elsewhere. Now there was only her, the music, and the dance that shaped her life and gave it beauty. Anisa stepped, bent and rolled, her movements growing bolder and more confident. She was finding a form that only she could feel. Her own form. She danced not for the audience, but because she loved dancing. Applause was a wonderful thing, but other people’s opinions remained distant. They had been emptied of meaning and held no power over her.

And how little it had taken for the dance to flow through her. Just a step forward…

Anisa woke to bright sunlight. As a child, she could simply have pulled the covers over her head and turned onto her other side to go on sleeping. But her eyes came to rest on the costume hanging opposite her, and her heart tightened. She tried not to wrinkle her forehead, because at her age the lines formed more easily, but she could not help herself.

Sitting in bed, she thoughtfully stroked a flat, rectangular object lying on her bedside table. A ticket to a costume dance competition. At first, it had sounded like a wonderful idea. But only at first, since taking part was required. “What’s the big deal?” Anisa had told herself.

The night before, she had lain in the dark for a long time before falling asleep, wondering whether to back out. She would simply invent some excuse—anything to avoid making a fool of herself and dying of embarrassment. Still drowsy, Anisa got up and walked over to the costume. It was soooo beautiful. She had fallen in love with it at once. But why had she given in to that first impulse? She was not so young any more, after all. Her feet were not as nimble, and she was not as flexible either.

What’s the big deal? How bad can it be…? she thought again, and made her decision.

Exhausted and drenched in sweat, Anisa had not felt such happiness in a long time. The smile would not leave her face. Her decision to enter the dance competition after all had brought her on this extraordinary adventure. It was as though the magic was with her and all around her again—something she had not felt since she was little. She was one with the dance once more, and she felt young and free. Thunderous applause celebrated her performance and followed her as she left the stage.

The dance competition was an enormous success. All sorts of groups, couples and even solo dancers took part. The only condition was to bring your own costume, which made the event all the more colourful anyway. Colours and styles from all over the world. The stage stood in an enormous meadow, its grass hidden beneath the many visitors. Noise and commotion rose to the heavens, and there was not a single frowning face.

Anisa could no longer believe she had been out of her mind enough to consider dropping out of the competition. She adored dancing. She adored the applause too. The audience’s roar during her performance had split the heavens. The very same audience she had feared so much, whose opinions had frightened her. Anisa felt more alive than ever. She was even beginning to regret that it was over. She wished it were still ahead of her, so she could experience it all again. And she could not wait to get a beer and quench her thirst.

On her way to the beer stall, she almost collided with a woman weaving through the crowd with two tankards in her hands. She was slender, with fiery red hair tucked beneath a pirate hat, and a long coat whose tails fluttered with every step. Metal ornaments jingled at her belt.

“Whoa! Mind the cargo!” the woman called, lifting the tankards without spilling a drop.

Anisa laughed and stepped aside to let her pass. Then she caught the scent—sea salt, lemon and seaweed. She knew it.

She turned to look after the woman. The pirate hat was still visible above someone’s shoulder, then disappeared.

Anisa stood there for a few seconds, with the feeling that she had forgotten to thank someone.