I had a healthy disdain for the dances seen in Bollywood movies and I must admit that there has been a certain amount of snootiness in the equation. When I got the opportunity to join a Bollywood dance class along with a group of friends, I jumped at the chance. Not for a moment did I give a thought to whether I could do it well. After all, I'd learned Classical, and I considered that to be the ultimate dance form. If I could do Classical, I could do anything !
So there I was in my very first Bollywood dance class, raring to shake a leg and show them my moves. The instructor was a bespectacled, quiet young guy (let’s call him D) who welcomed us with a smile and made us feel quite comfortable. Soon the large room echoed with the heavy beat of a popular Bollywood song. D gave a short demo of what he was about to teach us. The guy moved beautifully and the whole thing looked ridiculously easy. He patiently explained the steps to us and since it was our first class he took it slow and restricted himself to just a few steps. I worked out the routine in my mind and got ready. Again the music was switched on and we started moving. That was when I had the first inkling that all was not as it seemed. The song had a life of its own and the damn thing was not waiting for me to complete my moves ! By the time D stopped the song I was in a total huff. My hair was sticking out at odd angles and I felt like I would have a heart attack. D was as cool as a cucumber and not even breathing heavily. I looked around and felt a teeny amount of satisfaction when I saw the rest of my friends looking as shell-shocked as I felt.
D assessed the situation and decided to ‘make it simpler’ for us, and I must tell you that as of the moment I’m writing this, the poor guy has perfected the art of breaking a step into the tiniest bit possible. He took a lot of time to teach us the first few steps and hats off to his immense patience in the face of this kind of adversity ! To give you a tiny example; while demonstrating a step, D would extend his right hand and most of us would promptly extend our left hand and wait expectantly, not even realising that we'd got it wrong. After what must have been a lot of silent screaming in the poor guy’s head, he felt that we could hold our own, the music was switched on and off we went. Again there was a flurry of hands and legs going in all directions as we struggled to remember the sequence and keep up with the song. I had decided that this time I would keep my cool and do it perfectly. Alas, my body and mind went on two different paths; the agile mind sped on keeping time with the song, while the poor weary body lumbered along trying to keep flailing hands and feet from hitting anybody and trying to retain some semblance of rhythm in the movements.
The end of the first class had me thinking that I would die. I had to literally crawl back from class since I found it impossible to lift my feet and I discovered certain long abandoned muscles under all the fat ! My muscles went on strike and I found that the only body parts I could move without pain were my eyes and my fingers. For the next two days my family were subjected to howls of agony each time I moved. But you know how it is when we start something new. There's a certain amount of unbridled enthusiasm which blinds us to many other factors. My physical discomfort made me forget one important thing, that I was not able to learn the steps as easily as I had thought initially.
The second class saw us back in the dance studio with a lot of enthusiasm and I remember we even had a good laugh over our aches and pains. D welcomed us back and efficiently moved on to the routine we had to practise. Now I must come to another villain of this story which is a huge mirror that completely covered one wall. I am lead to believe that any self-respecting dance studio has to have one. Anyway, the mirror in our class is a particularly unflattering one and I have come to hate it with a passion! During the second class, I was confident that I was shaking my hips and doing the moves and generally showing a lot of improvement. As the class progressed, in a gap that opened up between my friends in front of me, I caught a glimpse of a round figure wobbling on her feet and swaying gently with minimal movement of the body. I sympathised with her for a second, and thought how hard it must be for the poor thing to manage all these moves. I resolved to help her out once I completed my dazzling jhatkas and matkas (that's Bollywood lingo for moves and grooves). Suddenly I almost keeled over in shock when I realised that the swaying blimp was none other than me ! I was seeing my reflection in the blasted mirror. Where were my hips ? In my mind they were moving in an east to north-west direction. In the mirror I was still swaying, solidly staying on an east-west path. I tried moving my torso in different combinations of directions, but other than my eye balls, which were rolling around alarmingly, the body kept swaying gently like a contented coconut tree. That was the beginning of my efforts to hide from the dastardly mirror. Now I have a feeling that I'm concentrating more on playing hide and seek with the wretched thing than in learning the moves.
We have completed two months and D has touched new levels of patience. He has also learned that keeping things simple is good for his health and sanity. It would be unfair to say that we haven't improved. I have certainly picked up the rudimentaries of Bollywood dancing. Some of the group have become really good dancers while some of us are still trying. Our stamina has increased. Now we no longer feel as if we are dying after each class. We just cannot move our limbs. We have learnt that propping ourselves up on walls will make the feeling go away after a considerable amount of time. My family has got used to seeing me practise my moves in the most unlikeliest of places; while making coffee, in the middle of reading a book, while watching tv and once even in the middle of reading the newspaper. I have a new-found respect for Bollywood dances and dancers and I do not let anybody make fun of Bollywood dancing in my presence.
Dear Bollywood dancer, I salute you. I remain your biggest fan.
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