My name is Salonee Shatagar & this is my story.

A seeker of rhythm, a bearer of scars,

A 23-year-old wanderer, weaving dreams,

Through chaos, doubt, and silent streams.

A college graduate, yes, but what does that truly mean

When I feel like a traveler; lost, unseen?

Lacking discipline, so they say,

Confidence falters, decisions sway.

Yet within this restless, stormy mind,

A beacon of passion, a refuge I find.

In 2020, amid a world’s despair,

Dance became my answer to silent prayer.

My Guru’s teachings, a sacred gift,

Through her, I learned how spirits lift.

But I was blind, ungrateful, unkind,

To the art that soothed my tangled mind.

Kathak isn’t something I merely pursue;

It’s a melody ancient, a world anew.

It whispers tales I can't yet conceive,

A land of rhythm where I dare to believe.

When isolation chills and shadows confine,

Its light holds me, its stories align.

Yet I falter; messy, chaotic, unsure,

Lost in fears I struggle to endure.

But somewhere deep inside burns a flame, a fight,

A spark of rage against my own night. This is no polished tale for display,

No perfect image for social media’s array.

It’s raw, authentic; the truth I share,

A life tangled, yet handled with care.

And so, I choose the rhythm divine,

A tune that whispers, “The future is mine.”

Today, I present to you my truth,

My tales of longing, of lessons uncouth.

Nomadic Motifs—a blog, my voice,

A messy symphony, my heartfelt choice.

Here, stories of past, present, and dreams

Will flow like rivers in moonlit streams.

Lessons learned and those I yearn,

The blessings that guide me at every turn.

Through the light my Guru has shown,

I seek my place, my path, my own.

Come along, dear friend, as I share my lore,

Of rhythms that roam and a soul to explore