Shyam - The Dancer

[Nephthys]

Rank 1: The Tornado

[Nephthys]

Shyam discovers what he was born to do - Rank 1.1



It was the forth time they'd seen the festival. Shyam and Laurel striding ahead, excitedly sampling or watching anything that took their fancy; the parents tagging dutifully along behind. Shyam and his sister had seen many stalls over the past few years, and they were fully determined to ensure they saw the maximum number possible this year as well. The delights of the Heb-Bastet were seemingly endless to Shyam, even from the first day he had seen it that bright summer morning as a cub, the music swirling through his ears allowing his bright young eyes to see everything more... colorfully. Laurel was no less excitable, though it was the dedications and offerings to the goddess Bastet which always attracted her the most. Any god in fact seemed to draw her young impressionable heart and mind like a moth to a flame, and she could often be found chatting to the priestesses and temple dancers during the festivities - though no one quite knew what this little sphinx could have done to draw the attention of any priestess, her being merely the daughter of the soldier, Achaion, and the scribe, Ashera.

In any case, Shyam did not question what his sister did without him and nor did it hold his interest. His mind was far too preoccupied with the rest of the festival, the bright lights and the colors, the squealing of cubs, the laughter, the music, all filling his heart with molten excitement until he feared it might burst... And although they did not wish to say, this was also what his parents feared. What if this became more than just a childhood obsession? A passion for a life of excitement, a life of spectacle, a life of purposelessness? One day he would be bold enough to explore, and all his naive joy for beauty would erupt like a volcano or a tornado, ripping through all they had worked so hard to create, leaving only devastation and shame in its wake - where once there had been safety. And safety was the most beautiful thing in all the worlds for Shyam's hard working mother and father.

It soon became clear that Shyam's favorite activity was to watch the dancers, any and all he could find. He did not mind who he watched - whoever it was, they always seemed to become something more when they moved, more like an ethereal spirit visiting Ahket than a flesh and blood sphinx like those who were watching the performance. Shyam would always be watching open-mouthed and hypnotised, while his father acted as though a dance performance was something to be endured more than something to be enjoyed (someone always had to be there to supervise Shyam when he wandered off into the crowds.) His father was a soldier and a stoic through and through. He didn't have an easy life, but he wondered who would want such a thing with the afterlife to come? He felt sure he would experience all the joys to be had when he was finally laid to rest, but until that day, he would fight, or he would die. That was what his father had taught him, and his father before that. To live only for pleasure, for beauty and happiness now? Such an existence was a foolish waste of mortal years. So Achaion would bide his time, tolerating Shyam's little flights of fancy until he was sure some sense would be knocked into him - sooner or later.

It was one such occasion when Shyam had found a pair of dancers to watch. They were not a scheduled part of the festivities, merely a pair of mischievous teenagers who had clearly looked to blow off some steam by having some sort of dance battle. The overly eager and perhaps slightly-bored-up-till-now musicians playing on the street corner decided it would be fun to egg the two on. A small crowd had been drawn by the sounds, and as the musicians played with rapt attention to fit the moves of the two competitors, only more sphinxes were attracted to the scene. The clashing cymbals, taunts of the dancers, musicians and booming drums all seemed to be merging together to form a kind of strange, enticing melody to passers-by. Shyam's heart thumped in his chest. Although he was not taking part, he could still feel the excitement, and it was stirring something deep within him. So much so that he never heard his father's pleads of
"I'm not sure if I like this", "Come on, I think we should be going now" or "Please, your mother will be worrying about us" over the audience's cheers.

And the scene, though greatly exciting, was about to get more extraordinary still. In one wild move, one of the dancers had swung his leg out, tripping up the other dancer who then fell to the ground and injured his head quite badly. Everyone gasped, and slowly the music that had been accompanying so enthusiastically the increasingly adventurous dance moves of the boys started stuttering awkwardly to a halt. The young injured dancer was ushered away quickly by sphinxes who shared similar pelt markings to him. They must have been his family. The tension rose in the air among the crowd, some of whom were already dispersing, not wishing to be a part of this any longer. Above the rising concerned chatter, the dancer who was unharmed could be heard:
"It seems I am the last one standing! So... I must be proclaimed the victor?"
Any sphinxes who heard it made displeased sounds, even booing him occasionally. Shyam heard one sphinx mutter,
"He's got some nerve." as they strode past him and left.

Suddenly, Shyam was furious. This sphinx's dance moves had been phenomenal, and now what was he going to do, ruin the facade? Reveal to all who had watched him that his charming movements betrayed a horrible personality? Shyam had admired him, but now he just looked like any old so-and-so who would tread over his peers to attain glory. Shyam slipped away from his father and marched into the small clearing where the dancing had taken place, his outrage spurring him on. Looking the performer in the eyes, Shyam said,
"You can't do that... You're not the winner. It isn't right." The performer started giving Shyam an amused expression. "I don't care... what your quarrel was about..." His voice becoming shakier as he grew more intimidated, "I think it's got to end. Right now."
The performer's smile widened. Who was this younger dark sphinx, giving him a moral lecture? How funny.
Meanwhile, Shyam's father Achaion was yelling curses at both of them whilst he was being blocked by the audience members scattering all around him. If he could only reach Shyam, he would have tugged him home right away. The performer glanced at Achaion, then back to Shyam.
"Then what are you going to do about it little cub, huh? Do you think you can make me?"
Shyam's inner voice was telling him over and over again that he must be going crazy, but he knew what he could do in that moment. He had watched so many dancers and all kinds of dances so many times... He had even been practicing his own moves at home when he was sure his mother and father were not looking, year after year, desperately trying to replicate the magic he had seen on stage. He didn't know how but deep down, he knew he could do this.
"Start the music." Shyam ordered the musicians, his voice edging on a growl. They stared at him, bewildered, and Shyam paused too, for a moment too in awe of what he was doing himself to know what to do next. Then his courage strengthened again and he repeated his earlier command, a little more confidently this time. "I said... Start the music!"
The musicians were recovering somewhat from what had just happened, but they were no less shocked to see this other young sphinx, a nobody, acting like he thought he could boss them around. Still, they started playing their instruments again, if a little nervously.

The music was awkward at first as the musicians were out of time with each other. Yet as Shyam started moving his paws, he picked up a solid common beat that brought every instrument together, and before long they were playing in time with him. Still, the unpleasant opponent from earlier appeared to be laughing at him, and his father was shouting his name over and over, making a continuous flow of threats and punishments for later. However, Shyam's anger only made him focus more, and he felt himself getting more and more energy from this anger. He increased the speed of his movements and at that precise moment, the largest drum started thundering quickly and ominously in time with his steps. The sound made some of the sphinxes who had been leaving turn around again, curious as to what was going on now. Whoever dared look long enough to see Shyam instantly became transfixed, as now he was moving so fast he was like a whirlwind, out to destroy anything that got in his way, and now quite a crowd was returning to watch him.
The exhilarating music made him leap higher than he ever had before, making abrupt turns, spins and rolls, never once missing a beat. Even the musicians were beginning to enjoy themselves, and the loudest one from earlier was now daring to shout encouragement Shyam's way. Shyam kicked, twirled, reached, spun and swayed as the beating of the drums filled his ears and turned his mind to mush. He jumped and ducked and rolled and jumped again, now kicking up such an enormous dust cloud that it was becoming difficult to see. The performer from earlier coughed and moved back a bit, now not looking quite so amused. Shyam looked wild as his long curly hair was whipped around by his forceful movements and just as he felt as though he was beginning to tire, the drums beat once and then once again a final time, allowing him to execute a sharp bow that seemed to slice through the dust cloud he'd created which continued to rise - a mysterious fog all around him.

There was a stunned silence for a few moments, before the audience erupted into applause. None of them knew exactly what had just happened, but they did know that they'd liked it. A satisfied smile spread across Shyam's face as he turned to face the performer who'd taunted him, and whose arrogance had clearly been taken down a few notches.
"I suppose I've just made you and your friend equal." He stated proudly, a spark lighting up his fiery amber eyes. "I suggest you go and apologize to him - now that I have been victorious, I'm sure you can forget your little quarrel."
A few members of the audience cheered and clapped into response to Shyam's short speech, whilst the other dancer simply stood in his place, dumbfounded.

"And I think it's time to go." Achaion's voice managed to reach Shyam's consciousness at long last, and after his little moment of glory in the spotlight, he was marched back home in disgrace.


His entrance into the dancing world had indeed been as inevitable and uncontrollable as a volcano or tornado, a natural disaster, his parents' worst fear. But even so, Shyam was at no loss for encouragement - after his sister had heard what he had done, she was secretly proud, and every night before bed they would discuss their fantasy future of Shyam becoming the greatest dancer in all of Ahket.

[Nephthys]

Just another lesson - Rank 1.2


“One, two, three, turn! One, two, three, turn! One, two, three… Hasani, what have I told you about control!? One, two, three…”


Shyam stretched as he watched his fellow dancers complete the warm up routine. He had already finished his. Now all there was to do was bide his time until they could start getting on with the proper dance. And luckily, killing time happened to be one of Shyam’s specialities. One of his friends Jafari (who had also finished early) was talking to some rather attractive females who had been passing by.

“Hey! Now, where are you off to so soon?”

A sly smile emerged on Shyam’s face as he leisurely strolled towards the scene. It looked like the girls were about to leave again, Jafari looked desperate, and it was one of Shyam’s favourite activities to practice the art of turning any situation to a more favourable one. He had decided it was best to remain cool and calm in these situations, and he placed a paw on Jafari’s shoulder.

“Ignore my friend here – you mustn't blame him for getting overly excited in such delightful company!” Shyam said warmly. He couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

“Alright well – we’ll just be going now anyway.” One of the females stuttered. Shyam raised one eyebrow, displeased with this answer.

“And where might you be going to?” He inquired, as politely as he could. The first female hesitated.

“We were heading off to the Nile to wash some clothes for our mistress.” Another lady spoke. “We’re sorry, but she may be angry if we do not return soon.”

Shyam frowned for a second. “Ah, I see…” Then his eyes lit up. He’d had an idea. “Oh, the Nile…” He began in a reminiscent, dreamy tone as if he couldn’t help going off on a wistful tangent. “I’m sure everyone in Ahket thanks the gods daily for the cool water it provides us with. These scorching days are unforgiving, and it’s no easier for dancers like us who are confined to our… punishing schedules.”

Conveniently, the other dancers were still trying to perfect their routine while looking very worn out behind Shyam as he spoke, highlighting the sad truth in his rambling. Still, Jafari watched Shyam as he listened to his words as though he might have lost his mind.

“All creatures are indeed dependant on the Nile,” Shyam continued, “for its sustenance, reliability, and even the pure joy that comes from being refreshed by its waters on such a warm day as today.”
Now everyone who was listening to Shyam appeared a little confused.

“Similarly,” he began again, now a mischievous spark appearing in his eyes that was so subtle it went unnoticed, “We dancers are dependent upon whatever we can find to keep us refreshed, to keep us going as we suffer for our art... In many ways, you ladies here are like the Nile, and we the creatures who stumble helplessly into your depths after a long day. You are the ones who restore our health and our happiness so we can carry on again. We are tired after our long warm up – please refresh us a little more, and do not leave just yet!”
The faces of the girls had turned into ones of sympathy as he had been talking, and now Jafari knew what Shyam had been trying to do, he started smiling again.

“And, if that won’t persuade you to stay just a little longer – I can always put a word in for one or two of you to our teacher. That is, if you ever wish to become more than servants one day, not having to take any more orders from any 'mistress'!" Jafari added.

Now the girls were beaming at each other, and Shyam grinned. He and Jafari had successfully sealed the deal.

"Shyam!! Jafari!!" Their instructor, Amenhotep's voice boomed, seemingly being carried even more swiftly towards them by the breeze. "Just what do you think you're doing? Now is not the time for idle chit-chat."

"Idle? Far from it." Shyam spoke, perhaps a little too confidently for someone who was addressing his superior. "We may have just found you some more dancers. You said you were looking for more for your female troupe? These ladies say their grace is unmatched among the other servants." He turned around and winked at the girls so they would know to play along with the act.

"Alright, alright. I'll see about it later. But only after you have performed our third routine for me." Shyam cringed inwardly. That was his least favourite. "I know you've been struggling with it, but that means we need to work on it, doesn't it? Besides, I'm sure these ladies will enjoy the show." Shyam glared at Amenhotep. Out of any show he could have given, this was perhaps the one he would have liked the girls to watch the least, and he was pretty certain Amenhotep knew this. He seemed to like irritating him - well, they both enjoyed irritating each other what with their ill-suited characters. But for now, the show had to go on.

[Nephthys]

"Did they tell you it was going to be easy?" - Rank 1.3



"Again, again. Now, breathe. Focus. You have to do this Shyam or you are not going home this evening. You came here to be a proper dancer Shyam, and that you will not be until you have mastered this. So, again! Better this time!"
Shyam's eyebrows furrowed deeply as he stared in the mirror at his own worn out reflection. His amber eyes burned with fury against his dark fur and his curly hair was a disgraced tangle.
His instructor had ordered him to perform that same routine of leg extensions. Again. That routine which, try as he might, Shyam knew he was never going to see any purpose in. Cultivating control and discipline perhaps... but both of those things always seemed to suffocate his spirit, his passion, his... very reason for dancing in the first place.
The same music he had listened to over and over again was about to be played even more by exasperated musicians who hid their frustration in poker faces of solemnity. The drums kicked in, but they were drowning, dragging... they drained Shyam even more just to listen to them. Drums should enliven a performance, not pull it down. And right now Shyam, his public persona and his poorly turned out legs were disappearing fast beneath the waves.
It was in that moment that Shyam resolved to stop trying. Stop trying to dance, and start being the dance.
He snapped his fingers once so loudly that instantly every musician's ears perked up in confusion. He had disturbed their rhythm, and now as the instruments came to a catastrophic colliding halt, the musicians swiftly realised that they had nothing to work with. Brilliant, Shyam thought. He would prefer musicians playing nothing at all over musicians playing miserably any day. And besides, this way, they were a blank canvas. A blank canvas for him to paint in any way he pleased with his movements.
Shyam hoped they would be willing to work to paint a fearsome portrait of him today.

He clicked his fingers again as he began to sway and snap different parts of his body, imitating a new drum beat for them to follow. Unsure of what else to do in this situation, the musicians followed his lead as Amenhotep the dance teacher and all the other pupils watched in awe and confusion.
Shyam now danced to the same drum beat as before but began to project a more urgent tone, a barely restrained fiery rage beneath the surface that made a musician instantly want to increase the tempo to attempt to lure out the beast within. The music became faster and faster in no time at all, and Shyam had kicked a chair in his path to the side in poorly veiled (though perhaps that was the intention) anger and frustration. Now he truly was out of his shell and all hell was about to break loose.
The drum beats thundered like the beats of his heart as he swirled, jumped, spun and ran with great vigor across the dance floor. Little bells and rattles weaved into the drum patterns to add further intruige. A flute added a strange emotional quality as its melody fluttered over the top. Shyam was spinning and bringing up a huge cloud of dust like a great hurricane in the middle of the dance floor. He was not a dancer of the traditional kind, and he never wanted to be. Perhaps this was his own way of expressing that to all who watched him now, as well as venting his frustration. His wild hair was flung about as though it had a mind of its own and was becoming one with the performance, one with his passionate soul. Shyam rolled across the ground in fluid motions between leaping like a gazelle and pouncing like a tiger, letting out every last ounce of energy and anger that he had.
And he had coated everyone in the dust that his vigorous movements had kicked up off the floor by the end of it.

There was a moment of stunned silence, as the wide eyed dancers around Shyam glanced at each other in shock across the room. The music had ceased with a final drum roll as though thunder had passed overhead... and now everyone was bewildered, perhaps even slightly worried. Was anyone ever going to say anything? Shyam thought with exhaustion. Did anyone dare challenge him now?

"I don't know what that was, Shyam, but it was not Ballet." Amenhotep's pompous voice pierced the air and with it, Shyam's heart sank again. "You are here to learn Ballet. Instead, you behave like this. Like a tornado having a tantrum. Your family... Did they tell you it was going to be easy or something? Is that why they sent you here?"

"Did what I just do look easy to you?!" Shyam huffed incredulously. He then pushed through his fellow dance students without hesitation to head home. They stumbled easily out of his way for their shock and confusion at his performance had left them with little strength to resist. He hadn't been given permission to leave yet, but Shyam knew that didn't matter. He had certainly had enough of dancing, and of Amenhotep for one day. Amenhotep stared into the distance with a bemused expression on his face as the sound of Shyam's tornado pawsteps echoed throughout the hallway.

It had been inevitable, Shyam thought, that his instructor would fail to see his side of things even after showcasing his natural talent and expending every last ounce of energy he owned. That was nothing to Amenhotep, nothing to a mind so rigid and strict that even the sun would seem flawed to it, when it wouldn't always shine. Shyam was done with learning by the book, learning by Amenhotep. Now Shyam knew - it was time to start learning things the hard way.

[Nephthys]

That little extra spark - Rank 1.4



The streets of Khemet hummed with liveliness and enjoyment in the evening sun. So much so that it would be impossible for any sphinx to feel anything but ease and satisfaction in this moment. But Shyam was still hungry. Having refused to continue dancing lessons and refused to become an apprentice for any type of 'sensible' job, Shyam had taken to the streets. His mother and father hadn't thrown him out themselves, but they had contributed significantly to Shyam's decision to run away, having made him feel extremely uncomfortable and unwanted in his own home. To put it simply, they had been exasperated with their son, and Shyam knew he wasn't going to do any better for them in the wonderfully toxic environment they had been busy providing for him.

But now he had left, he felt great. Great because of the enormous satisfaction he felt of being able to do what he liked, when he liked. Great because of how every meal felt like a gift from the gods when suddenly a future one couldn't be guaranteed. And great because of how this freedom granted him the ability to earn his food through the means of dancing, that which made him feel more alive than anything else. He didn't have to follow anyone's rules anymore - he just had to make his own, perfect them until they came naturally, and execute them until his dancing actually improved. Improved in the way it worked for him, in the way it worked for his audience, and not necessarily in the way it worked for stuffy old dance teachers whose glory days had long since passed. Finally, Shyam was living his life, his way, he pondered to himself.

"I'd trade every last drop of my freedom for one single grape right now." He groaned to Khnemu, his fellow street urchin and travelling musician friend. "I'm telling you, if they don't pay us enough for even a single grape like they did yesterday, I'm going to run right back home to my mummy and daddy." He scoffed.

"And maybe I'll come with you," Khnemu replied. "Since, you know, I have no family to take care of me." Shyam rolled his eyes. Khnemu was always going on about his stupid family - or lack thereof. In any case, Shyam figured he was always going to have a bee in his bonnet with his abandonment issues. And perhaps that was why his little charioteer's daughter girlfriend was of such importance to him. She would never be permitted to be with him, to marry him (him being so beneath her in wealth and status of course) but yet she would always come to every one of his shows and each time Khnemu had finished playing, they would discuss when and where he would next be playing so she would know where to go to see him again. A little sickening, Shyam mused, but it was also likely that poor Khnemu had never experienced such devotion towards him before.

And, coincidentally, that was exactly what generated the perfect idea in Shyam's mind of how he was going to try to ensure that they would eat well tonight - no matter what events lead up to that.


*to be continued*