The Child Dancer
Rajasthan, India 2005
A tiny girl dressed in flowing skirts, veils and jewelry performed for tourists at a turn in one of the winding streets leading into Jaiselmer Fort. Her eyes, ringed with kohl, revealed her shy nature as did the hesitant movements of her dance. Her grandfather…could it have been her father?…sat nearby and played the sitar. His kindly face encouraged her to dance and us to give rupees. As far as I was concerned, she deserved every single one.
These dancing girls are common. Tourists would have to be very hard of heart not to notice and give money. The girls themselves don’t seem to have any idea that they are the family’s breadwinner. Once, in Jodhpur, a similar little girl danced just for me as I waited for my husband to catch up. Her parents sat under a tree holding a baby: her brother.
As each tourist passed by the girl would leap up and begin to twirl on tiny, delicate feet. Sometimes the tourist didn’t notice her. She’d look to her father, who accompanied her on the sitar, for a signal to stop dancing. During a lull in her performance, I offered her some mints. She hesitated. I gestured that it was to be eaten and that it would taste good. She took it. But did she pop it into her mouth as I expected? No. She took it to her parents who gave the candy to her baby brother. He ate the candy. He was a boy, after all.