The natural art of swaying
I am not an envious person. That could very well explain my utter lack of ambitions in life. I don’t remember ever feeling bad about…
I am not an envious person. That could very well explain my utter lack of ambitions in life. I don’t remember ever feeling bad about other’s success, be it in school or in office. I do remember feeling bad about my failures though throughout. To a lot of people, failure is as big a motivation as envy. In my case, the exact reverse is true. I don’t envy for the same reason I don’t smoke— it’s something that isn’t for me.
That confessed, I envy people who dance.
I can’t dance even if ISIS were to strap a deck of bombs on me and told me they will explode one-by-one if I stopped dancing. I’d rather die in an instance than move my body in any direction it’s not meant to. Now, we need to understand that there are two forms of dance: one is for those who dedicate their lives to learning the art form and another is for those who believe dancing is for anybody with limbs. Let’s focus on the second category here because there is more fun in Sunday League Football than in Top League Football. Why? Because it’s hilarious.
The fact that dancing is present in almost all cultures irrespective of their geography is a testament to our tribal origin. Our ancestors danced in unison as a sign of unity and celebration. If you zoom out a bit, not much has changed. We dance today — be it in a noisy club or a desi baaraat — to exhibit connection, not exclusivity. Nobody is really impressing nobody; impression is best left to the former category of dedicated individuals. To that effect, we behave like a tribe under the influence of music. We may not require a bonfire to circumambulate in groups but dancing is as tribal as tattoos and languages and war and basic concerns.
As a kid, I found dancing ridiculous. As an adult, I find dancing ridiculously charming. I wish I could do what others do so effortlessly. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve been to two north Indian weddings since moving to Gurgaon in 2015 and I’ve danced on both occasions. The only problem being I just can’t bring myself to find a rhythm like those dancing close to me do. And by the time, I’d master a move, the song would change. To add insult to psychological injury, I seldom know any of the lyrics. The kind of songs I listen to are more in tune with slow dancing; not that I can slow-dance either. My supportive wife has taught me a few anytime-anywhere steps but they don’t always come handy. Or leggy. You can’t dance like a unique idiot when everybody else is dancing like synchronized idiots.
So, as an unofficial New Year resolution, I’ll learn to dance in 2018. Anyhow. No more excuses.
PS. On 31st December, 2016, I wanted to pick up Kannada in the following year as my niece wouldn’t speak Tulu. Long excuse short, I didn’t.