AMRITA SAIGAL On my fifth birthday, we had only been in the United States for barely 2 and half months. Our big party for me was an undertaking, inviting all the Indian families in the apartment complex and friends of my father’s from work. There were only a few kids, and they were all a few years older than me, and palling around with my brother while I struggled to blow out my reigniting candles for the wishes, not for the act of wishing, not realizing my deepest desires were just about to come true. After my party, my parents packed me and my brother up in the car. We headed to the “nice” suburban part of town, where the apartment complexes turned into two-story colonials, and every tree hummed with the energy of summer birdsongs. We turned into the parking lot of one Ranjani Saigal, a classical Indian dance (Bharatanatyam) teacher recommended by one of the family’s new Amreekan friends. And though it started out as dance, the four within their Saigal clan have taught me
forever striving to be a HURRICANE of eloquence .