On A Great Tribute to the Royal Dance

In the end, maybe I'm indeed just a feather in the air. But I'd say the feather has been doing things during its fleeting flight. This is an unsung story.


There's a small promise I had made, back then before the whole thing started. In that afternoon certain situation of the year past was made known to me and lo, nobody wanted a repeat of that.

"If, hypothetically, you're to be in the team, it's inevitable that you're going to be working with him. Will that be okay with you?"
"I'm fine with it," I said, "But I don't know with him. One thing I'll do is to play my part in ensuring that this project will run smoothly, whatever my position will be."

Nobody should think anything of that, but for me, it's still a promise nonetheless. Personally, I'm just as excited as a kid when it comes to original stage productions. I wasn't to be a committee member in the end (much to my relief, actually), but my vanity and curiosity prompted me to take part, still. I looked at the prospects and I decided to YOLO it - I auditioned as a member of the artistic/performance team.

To my surprise (as in, total bewilderment) I ended up as an actual performer. A dancer, no less. Me, that awkward near-cripple in junior college, a dancer? Christ. During the second interview I told the Dance Director: even if I was to be given the least favourable position in the most minor items, I wouldn't mind. I didn't dare to expect anything out of fear of being disappointed with myself. I joined the squad with a single condition - if I was to sustain any serious injury during any practice I'd walk out the room and not to return, even if it's on the day of the performance itself.

That cold spray that ended up being the hero in the dressing room? It's something I invested in sometime during that period. At that time, even the warming ups sometimes brought slight pain to my knee and during bad days I wore my ankle/knee protector inside my leggings or sport pants. The amount of stairs in NTU devastated me - the act of climbing it alone in a slightly off manner would sting the bad joint. There was also that uneven bit of platform near the canteen I frequented that had tripped me at least three times. In these six months I've been walking with extra care and a bit of fear. Consciously I threaded my steps one at a time, even when I was tired. I banned myself from complaining; fellow dancers' worry was the last thing I wanted to see and there was no reason to add additional stress to my friends' - with most of them being in the main committee with their enormously hectic schedules and new people to manage.

Gradually though, things improved. The sheer intensity of practice and care were just the perfect physiotherapy I'd been needing. The frequency of pain decreased and the extra supports were taken off one by one. But the whole thing would then explain why, that during the most intensive periods I'd still tuck my emergency first aid pouch in my bag.

And then there was that quite mentally trying period.

To put it simply I lost a dear friend out of the blue. One that got me into the project in the first place and whose role was quite crucial, no less. I found myself unable to do anything this time. Any wrong step in the dark could be fatal. He's not a stupid person, I believe. I was just beginning to put trust in the effectiveness of direct communication, but this might just be the one way he could be more content with himself. Anybody who knew him wouldn't want to put any additional pressure to his mind. I sought some more objective second opinions and it looked like it's a lost case indeed.

For the project, I told myself, of all times I shouldn't be selfish now. Never mind the awkwardness that tainted most of the happiest moments. Sheer curiosity of dancing, the faith and friendship with the D-team and a philosophy of professionalism rooted my feet in the project. Times and times again I doubted myself. Silly thoughts, I told myself as I kicked myself in the head. Take a look at the fiasco I caused the last time I voiced a similar question. If anybody could calm the grudger, it might just be not me.

D Team. The one team with the most assorted personalities and cheers I was privileged to be part of. I can't churn out enough words to appreciate their supports. Each of them got their own stories and dilemmas - some I could even relate to myself. But the director, choreographers and dancers, I'd say they got the professional attitude down. I learnt a lot, and I mean it. There were some of the more experienced dancers, and some new learners, too. New faces I've got to know and would be very glad to grow the bonds with beyond this project. Their efforts, the willingness to push one's personal boundaries, it was cute and cool sometimes, but above all, inspiring.

Despite me being quite far from feminine and having very little experience in traditional dancing, I was given the spot in the traditional dance item and then, the supporting role of a palace's maidservant. That was quite unnerving. Again, the show had to go on. My silly pride recited the word 'professionalism' for the umpteenth times. Me being quite impressed with the grand scale of choreography helped a lot, too. I hope I had given it justice.

What started as an innocent waltz grew into a full blown trust therapy. I remember swallowing my breath the moment the choreographers told me what to do and I can't thank my dance partner enough to follow it through. To have caught me when I fell straight on my back, twirled me in mid-air, lifted and landed me on the centre stage, half a meter away from a literal pit of danger. The amount of tries it took for me to build the trust, adding to that the vocal reassurances I couldn't help but to ask for every single time, I'd think he'd be pissed off but no. Despite his joker nature, he was the most patient and supporting when it comes to that. To hell with trust issues. I had to answer that, and also the trust our choreographers had trusted me with that, properly.

I'd like think something did happen on the stage that day. I know who were watching; among the audience, there were a couple of old friends I've started the whole dancing thing long, long time ago with - band mates I had to leave when I departed to Singapore a few years back. A dear senior and friend with a similar physical predicament. Some batch mates who might remembered me most as that accident prone girl. And this might go into a recording, something to be shown to my family later. To all of them, speaking from a very subjective point of view, those shining and proud moments were my answer.

I can't thank the D team enough for that, and don't get me start on my objective viewpoint or this post would never end. When I saw some of them became overwhelmed with the joy and relief after it was over I did shed my own tears. Thank you, so much, for everything. Gracias. Merci. And very well done, I'm very proud of all of you.

When one of my batch mates asked me afterwards, if I had faked those whole legs problems, crutches and wheelchairs and all a couple of years ago, I thought another silent miracle did happen in those fleeting moments after all. For that, I thank God.