The daughter of time walks barefoot on the path, humming inwardly to herself. She follows the sun-baked, earthen track all the way through the village, on and up through the foothills. Cows and goats are stilled in the fields by the brush of her eyes. She moves, weaving cobra-smooth curves through the rocky path that looms above, her rhythm of breath disturbing none. Up and on into the heat-shimmer of the late afternoon, she climbs higher.
One wide-winged, black vulture soars above, as the charcoal of her eyes and hair meet the sky. No clouds in any direction, she carries her burdens in peaceful comfort.
Her hut finally appears, in shifting sunlit patches through the purple shade of Tendu and Pipal trees in the shadow of the mountain; the impermanent place of rest. Sweeping the earthen floor of her hut, she centres her self in the cool dark. As she breathes now, the air around her becomes fragrant, and the tiny, tinkling bell sounds of manjira can be heard, accompanied by the tabid and two sarangis. Swaying so very gently, her arms and hands begin to move, in a graceful fluidity of mudras as the Lasya takes over, and her whole self is given to the dance.
MAHILA features Indian rose otto, Sumatran patchouli, jasmine sambac, vetiver, Mysore sandalwood.