Feels Like Winning

Aman has to go back to the hotel where he’s staying, but he promises to watch our performances later. I tell him congrats, and Prithvi smiles that easygoing smile of his, except it’s bigger and brighter. After he leaves, Prithvi and I watch the next set of contestants come. From a girl named Arshika whose dadi is her BFF to a boy named Sobhit who does the craziest things on the dance floor (including pulling his pants down to expose, thankfully, a swimsuit and not his underwear), the dancers show their best, and most get their medals. Some don’t, and I feel bad for them. 

Then, it’s my turn. I may be lying if I say I’m not quaking with nervousness.
Because I actually am.

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I run onto the stage, doing a cool pose and everything, but that’s for the camera. Now, I do not know how I am going to face these judges. I remember them.
Shipra Ma’am nods and looks at me. “I have seen you before, but I do not know when and where.” 
Anshuman Dada looks at her. “We have?” Even Geetika Ma is trying to remember.
I nod, raise my mic, and say, “Super Dancer Chapter 3.”
Their eyes widen with recognition, and they start talking about how different my style is and how I was sent home for revision.
“And you’ve come back revised, I’m guessing?” Shipra Ma’am asks me.
I nod again.
They play a videotape on the big screens mounted on both sides of the stage. It’s one we had to shoot in Punjab, telling about me and what I do, and what makes me me. There are shots of Papa talking, then our practice, and the whiteboard on which he had scribbled my new schedule. He finishes by saying, “Sankalp took the revision to heart and not the rejection.”
Then it’s me. I’m saying things about how my last final auditions went and what I plan to do now in Chapter 4. I finally say, “Getting into Super Dancer Chapter 4 has become an obsession for me. I don’t want to make any mistakes. I want to be known not as Sankalp Chanana, but as Super Dancer Sankalp Chanana.”
When the tape’s done, Geetika Ma looks at me and says, “You sure seem much more confident than last time.”
“We’ll see your performance.” Anshuman Dada calls for music.
For my audition track, Papa remixed ‘Ramta Jogi’. He thinks it is a perfect song. I do think it is. As I pull off my best moves, I work on one of the toughest sections in my song, the knee work. I have knee pads on, but it still took me a long time to get it right. I go slow, then when the collective beats hit, I go fast. I am getting there, and when the song ends, I drop onto my knees, and lie, my back to the ground. 
What happens next is surprising. No sooner than I finish, I hear three sounds of levers. Three! And when I hear the theme song and see the lights turn gold, I jump to my feet and cheer. I join my hands, and silently thank God for all the help, all the practice, and I thank everyone else too. Heavily breathing, I look at Shipra Ma’am, who’s calling me to the judges’ table. I run to them, and Geetika Ma envelops me in a hug. Shipra Ma’am doesn’t hug me first, but instead, grabs my shoulders and places me in front of her judge mic. 
“India!” She says, pointing to me. “Look at this child closely. He came in Super Dancer Chapter 3, was sent home for revision in the final auditions, and now he’s returned to Chapter 4…phatne ke liye.” 
I laugh. 
“He’s burst like a bomb today, but he’s come back with this attention, this swag, and this new positive attitude. And for me, well, it is super se bahut, bahut, BAHUT upar, and it calls for the sidi!”
The huge stair ladder rolls out, and I climb upon with Shipra Ma’am, and we do the bolt as a celebratory gesture. After I get down, I run to Dada, and feel everything I worked towards come true, as he drapes the selection medal over my neck. 
It’s finally what I yearned for. The medal. The selection.
When I run back to the stage, Geetika Ma starts speaking.
“Sankalp, what moves! They’re so clean, smooth, and my favourite one was the knee section, how you went from slow to fast.”
“Thank you, Ma,” I said.
“But the one thing I am proud of, is that you didn’t take the rejection, but the revision, seriously. And, well, bade kalakaaron se khade rehke bat karna chahiye,” she finishes, standing up and clapping for me for a while, but there’s more. “But, acche kalakaaron se yeh karna chahiye.”
She goes to the side of the table, and I know what she’s going to do. A thousand crackers burst inside my mind as Geetika Ma takes a bow in front of me.
“Thank you, Ma’am! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I fall to my knees.
Anshuman Dada is next. “Unique, yet perfect. It is outstanding!”
Shipra Ma is speechless. When she finds her voice, it is dripping with admiration. “Wow. I was right. This kid has burst like a bomb.”
We all laugh.
“But, Sankalp, you have a guaranteed position. I can see you—and I want to see you in the top 5.” 
I can’t stop saying thank you. It is practically oozing from my mouth. 
And how can’t I say?
It feels like winning.

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Signed,
Melody Vega