Divya Iyer (1) Anika sat quietly in the corner of her room, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains, casting a golden hue on the worn pages of her Bharatanatyam manual. Her feet itched to move, her body longed for the rhythm, the dance that had been a part of her soul since childhood. But today, like every other day, she resisted. The sounds of her parents’ voices drifted from the living room, filled with the usual discussions of exams, school assignments, and future plans. Her father, Vishwanath, was in one of his moods—insisting that she…