Everyone managed to change out of their old outfits and slip back into their performance costumes in record time. Excitement filled the corridor, buzzing louder than the overhead fans.
Nila clapped her hands once to get everyone's attention. "Since we've already changed into our dresses… what's stopping us from going for a full makeover?"
Harini blinked. "What else do we need to do?"
Mahathi grinned. "Makeup?"
Nila nodded. "Makeup, styling, accessories—the whole package."
Just then, Sashtika came running from the next dorm room, half out of breath. "What's going on? What fun is happening without me?"
"You're just in time!" Nila beamed. "We were just about to raid all our makeup and jewellery. Go get your stash. Lip gloss, kajal, clips—whatever you've got."
Harini glanced at the clock. "Nila… it's already 9:15…"
Nila didn't even flinch. "Exactly why we need to stop arguing and get moving. If we stay focused, we can get everyone ready in 20 minutes, tops!"
That's all it took to set off the flurry. Trunks opened, zips tore, pouches were passed hand to hand as the girls assembled their little dressing stations. Nila and Mahathi took the lead on makeup duty, while Sashtika sorted through bangles and earrings with the precision of a jeweller.
"Who wants soft glam and who wants full-on movie heroine look?" Mahathi joked as she dabbed foundation on Harini's cheek.
"I want something dramatic!" Prerna declared, already trying on three different jhumkas.
Prerna and Harini worked together on hair styling—braiding, pinning, curling, and fixing with every rubber band and tic-tac they could scavenge. Someone lent a bottle of jasmine hair oil just for the scent. Another unearthed a tiny box of glittery bindis from the bottom of her snack box.
Nila stepped back to look at them. In the yellow tube light of the dorm, the girls didn't look tired at all—they were glowing. Not just from highlighters and lipstick, but from pure excitement.
They were laughing, adjusting each other's earrings, helping zip up blouses, and arguing over which jhumka looked best with which hairstyle. It was chaos. It was beautiful.
And suddenly, Nila wanted in.
Without another word, she pulled out her own half-saree from the trunk—a deep maroon with gold threadwork—and draped it quickly, letting her hair fall loose down her back.
Sashtika blinked. "Are you seriously wearing your half-saree now?"
"For fun," Nila grinned, adding a bindi and some lipstick. "Why not? Tonight feels like a celebration."
Someone turned on the speaker again.
In that moment, no one cared about rules or morning wake-up calls or the exam notice that might be pinned up next week.
For now, it was just a group of girls, twinkling in borrowed bangles, dancing like it was a wedding sangeet under tube light stars.
On the way down, I spotted Shivani di near the staircase and couldn't help myself.
"Di! Come with me," I said, grabbing her hand.
She raised an eyebrow. "Why, what happened now?"
"I want you to watch me dance. You always say I brag—tonight, I want you to see it for yourself. So later, you can't say I was just bluffing."
She burst out laughing and nodded. "Fine, fine. Let's see what you've got."
By the time we stepped outside, it was impossible to ignore the attention we were drawing. We were the only group of girls dressed head-to-toe in full performance costume while everyone else strolled around in their pyjamas, half-asleep or preparing for bed. Our bangles chimed. Anklets jingled. Hair neatly tied, makeup just enough to catch the light.
It wasn't subtle.
When we reached the open corridor near the dorm entrance, I helped adjust the speaker and test the volume. The beats echoed gently against the compound walls. A small crowd had already started to gather, girls whispering and leaning over from the first floor balcony.
Before the music began, I turned to the team. "Okay listen. This time, don't hold anything back. Dance like the audience matters. Because they do. Let's make this the best one yet."
They all nodded, some stretching, some bouncing on their toes.
Then the music began—and we were gone.
I didn't hold back. I didn't even think. Somewhere between the rhythm and the moonlight, I let go.
I wasn't the extra dancer added last minute. I wasn't someone filling a gap in their group. I was a part of it—fully, completely. Five girls. One team.
When some of the choreography had a pair step, I instinctively turned it into a solo move, adding a small spin or a flick of the wrist to carry it through without making it awkward. And somehow, it worked. The others followed along like they had practiced it with me all week.
There was something joyful about dancing in that moment—not just the music or the clothes or the energy—but the way I felt, all dressed up in a traditional costume, performing freely, heart first. In my head, I wasn't just dancing in front of a dorm crowd. I was standing on the big stage, lights blinding, audience cheering, and I was exactly where I was meant to be.
I didn't come back to the corridor until the music faded and the echo of applause snapped me back into the moment.
Everyone clapped. A few even whistled. Girls from other dorms were leaning out to catch a glimpse.
Shivani di clapped the loudest.
"I get it now," she said, laughing. "You weren't bluffing."
The rest of the team was grinning ear to ear. There was no more arguing. Just the shared glow of having nailed it.
Satisfied and tired, the girls began drifting back to their dorms, already unpinning hair and kicking off anklets, the energy still buzzing in the air.
And for the first time in days, we all went to bed not just ready—but excited—for Saturday.