The four dancers take the lower hem of their red garment daintily between
the thumb and finger of the right hand, spreading its ample folds into
the figure of an opened fan, by bringing the outstretched arm almost on a
level with the shoulder. A mantle of transparent muslin, fringed with
silver spangles, is worn about the head and shoulders in the same
indescribably graceful manner as the mantilla of the Spanish senorita.
Raising a portion of this aloft in the left hand, and keeping the "fan"
intact with the right, the dancers twirl around and change positions with
one another, their supple figures meanwhile assuming a variety of
graceful motions and postures from time to time. Now they imitate the
spiral movement of a serpent climbing around and upward on an imaginary
pole; again they assume an attitude of gracefulness, their dusky
countenances half hidden in seeming coquetry behind the muslin mantle,
the large red fan waving gently to and fro, the feet unmoving, but the
undulating motions of the body and the tremor of the limbs sufficing to
jingle the tiny ankle-bells. On the whole, the Nautch dance would be
disappointing to most people witnessing it; its fame leads one to expect
more than it really amounts to.
Before starting back to Delhi, I take a stroll through the adjacent
village of Kootub, a place named after the minar, I suppose.
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