The first thud of my feet
Against the cold marble floor
Sounded insufficient
In the playroom
Will I be inconsequential?
The leather ghungroos
Encouraged me
Each chime of the bell reminded me
To be louder
I will not be inconsequential.
The thud of my foot now echoed
In the auditorium
Demanding to be heard
The sharp bang of the nattuvangum
Disciplined my methods
My feet only knew one language
The hypnotic sound of the flute
The smooth rhythm of the mridangam
The audience was mine
And I was not inconsequential.