Apsara Dancers by Rita
Share Article The dancing hall at Preah Khan is where dancers don’t smile. They dance. They are slave dancers. They dance for the king. He is the god-king. He resurrected his desire creating new temples and new decrees for dancers.
They dance for the mighty and powerful. They dance Khmer myths and stories about families, war, conquest, harvests, seasons, sun and moon.
They are life/death dances. They dance to celebrate life. They dance the celebration of tranquility. They dance or die. They wear tinkling golden bands around wrists and ankles. They wear diamond diademed crowns and shimmering silk clothing. They do not smile. Their faces are frozen in the trance of dance.
One dances to escape the tyranny of life.
She’s danced all her short sweet life. The Hall of Dancers is surrounded by columns, portals and broken jumbled green mossy stones. Stones whisper dance.
Thick gnarled silk-cotton roots crawl toward dancers. Dancers weave through exposed roots, past Shiva and Vishnu, the preserver and destroyer of life. Dance is motivated by emotional expression. Movement never lies.
Dance is about itself. Free creation is a playful way of existence.
