Devika Sudhir

ACDW101

Ragini Mohite

15-11-2021

IT IS OKAY TO MESS UP

All my life, I was told that we always have to do everything we do with excellence. One mistake and

everything we did will go down the flush; is what we hear. Why are we always expected to do everything

without any mistakes? Yes, parents tell you, “It is okay honey, you will do better next time” and so on, but our

society has set such standards that even if you make one mistake, you feel like a total failure and someone

who cannot excel at what you do. This is the reason why I chose my topic because I had given in to society’s

norm of being a perfectionist when it came to something I loved to do, which is dancing.

The day I had decided to do my arangeteram, I knew I could not mess that up. I remember to this day when I

had decided to start with my arangeteram practice; arangeteram is a performance that we do in

Bharatnatyam where you perform on the stage alone or with a partner for the first time in front of an

audience and an idol. It is one of the most important performances of my dancing journey, and I wanted to do

it flawlessly. 

It was a cold, dark, and gloomy day in August, and it was also the first day of my arangeteram practice. I was in

the car sitting in the passenger seat while my mom drove me to the class. My legs were constantly shaking,

but I had a bright smile on my face. I felt very abnormal yet exhilarating. I stepped into my class as if it was the

first time; something was different, and I could not stop thinking of the fact that this was the same place

where I had been dancing for the past nine years. I looked at my guru ruffling through her bag to take out her

notes and the instrument to put the tala; she looked at me with a smile and said,” Let’s start.” 

I had dance practice every day for eight months, almost as many months a woman is pregnant, and it wasn’t

any less exhausting, especially when the march heat in Mumbai began. All of that was the least of my

concerns, though. We were almost five months in when we had to decide where I would be performing. My
grandparents wanted me to perform in a temple in Kerala as they had never seen me perform before, and

honestly, they also

wanted to flaunt their granddaughter in front of our relatives. It was actually a great idea that felt more

authentic, and what even made it better was the fact that my guru had performed her arangeteram at the

very same temple on the very same stage. After being all gleeful about it, it hit me; I had to dance in front of

hundreds of people, out of which I knew only like forty maybe, and is also a place where this dance form is

prevalent, and people watch it regularly, unlike in Mumbai. This uneasiness was indescribable because my

mind was constantly telling me,” You have to stand out,” “You have to be perfect,” “You cannot mess it up, it

will hurt everyone, and you will be made fun of.” The thirteen-year-old Devika was terrified because, for her,

dance was everything, and if she made a mistake, she knew she was doomed to make a joke out of herself. 

I practiced twice as harder as before for the three months that were left. They were concise and going very

smoothly as I had wanted them to. Finally, when I felt confident, the bomb fell on us that the performance

that we had estimated to be for three hours had to be done in one hour because that is the only timeslot we

could book. My heart stopped beating. I wanted to burst into tears, wanted to give up, and thought that all

the practice I had done was going to go down the drain. My guru was supportive; she motivated me and

pulled me through. I got the hang of the timing and was getting better, feeling assertive but tired after every

practice. Meeting the tala with the live musicians wasn’t make the process any easier. We would practice for

hours to get it right. With just half a month left, I was able to do the entire sequence without any mistakes. I

was feeling assured and proud that I was able to do that. 

The D-Day had arrived. I sat to get ready. The makeup artist was delightful. I started; everything was going

perfectly as I had practiced. I had only a two-minute break between six items (dance routine). It was all good

until we reached the fourth item, which was the most difficult and I felt drained because of the Kerala heat. I

forgot a bit on the stage, but I knew I could not mess it up after everything, so I did not show it on my face and

just put tatami (side to side movement of the head). I acted as if nothing had happened. The musicians, of

course, realized and at the end of the show, I was disappointed that I made so many mistakes and was not
good enough. Although the singer came to me and told me that she was glad that I made a mistake on the

stage because she saw me during the practices being flawless and was afraid that I was doing too good too

soon. She was happy

nd told me to be happy because making mistakes was not wrong. I did not feel the same at that time, though. 

Today when I look back on it, I have realized that what she said was right; messing it up was not the end of the

world. Rather than feeling bad, I feel better now because people only remember the good parts, and I feel

that because of that one experience, my perception has changed as a whole. If I fail to do something, I do not

feel demotivated; instead, I know I am getting another opportunity to be better.