Dancing Dhamaka

I am a born dancer. Ever since I could wiggle, I jiggled. My chubby arms and small plump body moved about to the tunes of Bollywood mushiness. My mommy stared in disbelief and awe. (More awe I hope) I was pronounced a dancer. My dad grunted through the ordeal. Seeing me jiggle, my sister joined me. Obviously my moves were far superior and she soon decided to let me be the laughing stock of the colony - alone.

School happened. Dancing periods were included. I was all charged up. To the tunes of slow paced Rabindrasangeet my classmates swayed their bodies. I joined them. My swaying had to stop abruptly. My dance teacher realized very soon that my swaying had no rhythm. Beats were ignored, meaning of the music was lost and limbs knew not where they flew.

We used to have a four-year mega event called Spectrum. Auditions were held simultaneously in fields while my dance instructor oversaw from the first floor window. Inevitably my name was announced , on the microphone, distinct and audible, before I was pulled out of the dancing melee. Of course the embarrassment was supreme but my acute wisdom made me realize that my dance teacher was yet to reach that level of higher consciousness to appreciate my dance form. Sigh!

BITS,Pilani happened. In my first year I tried to edge my way once into the fashionable dance club auditions. They gave me a chance to perform. As the seniors looked on, I thumped my feet, flayed my arms, twisted my torso, bobbed my head and then boom! The music stopped. Apparently that was enough to reach an unanimous decision. The next thing I knew I was out of the door, the stage, the dance clubbers.

If you have read my posts previously, you would be familiar with my indomitable spirit. I never gave up. In my last year "Dance Workshop" happened. It was touted as a workshop for people who had two left feet. Obviously I was far superior. I was sure I would waltz my way in amongst the dance-gawky crowd. I was wrong. When names of the selected were put up on every hostel, my name was missing. I wasn't going to be stopped by a mere list. I edged my way in by meeting with student instructor of the workshop, expressing my desire to be allowed to "learn the awesome moves of the beautiful instructor" and coupled with the emotional sadness of it being my penultimate undergrad year. The melodrama worked. I was in.

Needless to say I was awesome. On the final day of the performance, I danced waltz, charleston, tango, twist and a random Sholay number. The stage bore reverberating testimony to my heavy thumping feet. When I looked at the videos I realized I was superlatively fat.

In UCLA and in bay area the dancing was limited to some Garba and Dandia.

Just last week, I got the golden opportunity to perform on stage in Campbell Theatre. I joined the Diwali Dhamaka celebrations of IITians. They had organized a dance-drama competition between the seven IITs and I participated from IIT-Guwahati. It was destiny. In helping my friend locate the place of practice, I found myself moving to the sound of music again. The choreographer was extremely patient. I could jiggle, wiggle, to my heart's content! They allowed me to be in one song - the famous "Dhan tanaa" from "Kaminey". I told the world about my dance status. The stage rocked as I went one step ahead to better the moves. My friends and my colleagues found me dancing on my chair, on streets, in my bathroom - I was obsessed with practising the steps. Music wasn't even necessary. My friends were subjected to watching me move , music-less ! Well their trauma ended in a week.

My awesome performance is was put up on you-tube. I saw myself on stage. I even had one line dialog!!! I felt like a movie star!

Well I am going to continue to butt into dances, edge into performances and finally one-day conquer the stage!