I stood in the center of the room, surrounded by my friends who were all looking at me with excited expressions. They told me that I was now a part of their girl gang and that I would be performing in their dance routine. My mind raced as I tried to process what they were saying. How could I, a boy, possibly fit into their group and dance like a girl? But before I could object, they reminded me of the Rangoli competition where I had unknowingly displayed feminine grace and elegance. As they showed me the photos, my heart sank. Was this really how they saw me? Just then, Vinu ma'm entered the room and my friends eagerly told her about their plan and my supposed agreement. I felt a wave of mixed emotions. On one hand, I was touched that they considered me part of their girl gang, but on the other hand, I couldn't help but feel uneasy about taking part in their dance performance. I didn't want to disappoint them or go against their wishes, but deep down, I couldn't shake off the feeling of being out of place and conflicted about being a part of their dance performance. Finally I agreed to their request.My heart raced as Vinu ma'm approached me with praise and approval, leaving me torn between pleasing my friends and staying true to myself.

The weekend arrived and we eagerly made our way to Rangarajan street for a day of shopping. As we perused the vibrant half sarees, my friends unanimously chose a stunning violet color for me. With excitement in their voices, they suggested dark colors for the pavada and blouse, while the dhavani would be a lighter shade of violet. I couldn't help but feel like a princess in those colors. As we continued on our shopping spree, my friends also picked out materials for VIBGYOR colored anarkali dresses to wear for practice. At a nearby tailoring shop, my team members eagerly gave their measurements while I stood off to the side, silently observing. When it was my turn, the tailor took my measurements with an eerie calmness and didn't ask any questions. My unease only grew as he finished and asked who was next. All eyes turned to me expectantly and I reluctantly stepped forward, feeling a sense of foreboding settle over me.

The graceful Radha, a renowned classical dancer, had a plan to share her talents by teaching dance moves in her friend's studio. As we gathered for rehearsal, everyone was dressed in vibrant Anarkali dresses that reflected their individual style and personality. Except for me, that is. I stood out in my plain clothes while Radha proudly displayed her own dress that she had brought from the tailor. She handed it to me with a warm smile and kindly asked me to wear it for our practice.

Without hesitation, I accepted her offer and made my way to the change room. The dress fit perfectly as if it were tailored just for me. As I stepped onto the dance floor, I felt like I embodied the spirit of the dance itself. Radha noticed my ease and asked if I had ever worn a dress before. Memories flooded back of my childhood, when I had worn my sister's dress for a school performance.

Radha reassured me that it wasn't a new experience and encouraged me to embrace the comfort of the dress so I could fully focus on our dance moves. And with that, we began our rehearsal, twirling and swaying in perfect harmony, all adorned in our colorful Anarkali dresses.

P.S: This is purely a fictional and my own story.. Do not repost this story without my consent.