The music in the background is set to a hot hindi number. Something to do with lamhe and yaadein. Oblivious to the music, I stepped onto the dance floor at the insistence of a friend.
Move the right leg forward,
Move the right leg back;
Move the other right leg forward;
Hide the dance ability you lack..
Just happens that everytime I proceed to the dance floor from whichever innocous place I am seated or standing at, the left leg mutates itself into another right leg. Looking at my two-right-legs syndrome, everytime I walk upto the dance floor, I wonder if I was destined to join the Travelling FreakShow along in the ranks of the turtle with two heads and the three-legged chicken. The money is not bad I heard and travel is free.
Built at a modest 80kg in a 5'9" frame, my dancing or singing abilities would provide fodder to mocking judges and audience in any talent show auditions. And hence for the past 24 years I've stayed away from dance floors and singing competitions.
Assuming some of you'll may not have had a contact within the walls of a B-school, let me venture out to tell you'll what an 'Insti party' is. If Ambrose in his Devil's dictionary was to put a lexicographic attachment to the phrase, it would go thus -
Insti Party: Warehouse or Depot generally adjoining a football field; Holds 2000 Watts, 10 bottles of Vodka and Whiskey each, 200 fruit juice tetrapeks and at any given point a max of 50 pairs of legs;
Now that the context has been set right, let me get to the brasstacks. Today was another of the insti parties. Without yielding to the pressures of the veins in my body, which were threatening to form a labour union and evangelize themselves into varicose veins, I pulled my body to the Waterloo that an insti party's dance floor to me is. I guess it was the company of the folks I was dancing in - Satish Polekar, Srikanth Kiran D and certainly the better off dancers Shiva, Rubeena and Deepali. The first two mentioned are folks I might have seen every Saturday night at the weekly meetings of 'Support group for the Dance floor suckers', if ever such a group may exist.
Having grown up in 'yenoda SivanChetty Garden' in 'Namma Bengaluru', an island of Tamil in a sea of Kannada, my dancing steps are restricted to what I've seen Vijay, Ajit and the occasional Kamal Hassan pull off - i.e. a general cross between Govinda's tadak-madaks, Urmila's jhatkas and moves of every second guy who solicits his dancing abilities in front of Lord Ganesha statues as they are moved to lakes to be submerged. Surprisingly, those moves on the dance floor came off well, what with Deepali and Shiva definitely impressed with them (Deepali, infact went onto quote that I've begun to dance well) and Rajesh coming up to me an hour later and reiterating what D and S thought of my dance.
So folks, here's the result of it this insti party. I'm left with a few calories lesser, a vodka and four Real fruit juices heavier and a few hours shorter of sleep. And most definitely one step higher on the ladder of great dance moves, with 'Bhangra' only notches higher and 'Cabaret' being left behind.
I have a question for you - Would you do a tapori dance in a crowd where everyone seems to be doing only the waltz.