Aaradhya Kapoor 1 Ayesha sat in the corner of her room, the delicate fabric of her Chikan kurta rustling as she moved. The dim light of the evening cast a warm glow over the room, where she practiced the intricate footwork of Kathak, her passion, and secret. The rhythmic clinking of the ghungroos around her ankles blended with the soft melody of a classical raag playing in the background. She had always been drawn to the graceful movements, the fluidity of Kathak, which spoke to her soul in a language her heart understood better than any words could. Yet, this…