There are some people who jive and slide around the dance floor like they were born on it and there are some who are more like the furniture on the dance house, static and wooden legged. This is where I come in. I assure you, this was not the case once upon a time. I remember my undergrad class. We danced for no reason at all. We danced in class, during industrial tours, farewell parties and what not. I am not much of a dancer but then who cares (apparently nobody cares, I was surprised when I learned this). All we needed was some excuse to shake our butts and wave our hands around randomly. I still remember our last dance at our farewell party in the Sindhoori hotel (now banned and closed for various reasons). We danced like there would be no tomorrow. We knew this was our last dance together. It was fun. But who put the kryptonite on my dancing suuper powers?
Grad School M.S in anytown USA - was a different story. In the desi parties that happened, I mostly went to check out chics and not continue my amazingly mediocre dance steps. But then who was I kidding. Engineering grad school and chics had a r = -0.9 relationship. So the motivation was low. Nevertheless, in the first year, I went in and shook my butt around. Between the first and second year, I had a marathon vacation in India, where I visited every fastfood joint, ate crappy stuff sold on the beach, organized Saravana Bhavan (restaurant chain) kshethradams (Sanskrit for pilgrimage) and managed to put on some remarkable weight in the tummy region. I know after reading this you maybe tempted to compare me with the person in the video below but please dont be that cruel, it not that bad yet. (The first time it will play in a stuttered fashion let it load fully, play it again and see it).
That my feet turned woodden when I came back for my second year cannot be dismissed as mere coincidence. But then I conveniently dismissed the metamorphosis as a philosophical development. Atrributable to a sort of grown-up'ness and - if I can dare say it without making my undergrad friends puke - a sense of maturity. So I began to spend time in the peripherals of the dance floor, with a glass of coke, making the odd chit-chat and nodding at unknown people. I remember having a one hour conversation on Sachin Tendulkar with a person whose name I never knew. I was intent on distracting myself from the dance. A stark contrast to the feeling I got when I was dancing. Dancing felt good. I still remember feeling very good dancing close to a girl who never remembered my name.
Back in school for this thing called MBA, I began to realize that fatness be screwed, I wouldn't dance if I was reborn as adonis. There is no safe mental spot where I can push myself to think "its now safe to dance". I seem to disprove this wonderful song.
But why do we dance? I have never ceased wondering. Is it to escape from the real world? Is it ventilation? Why is fun a product of dancing? Imagine if aliens (a'la Seinfeld) were watching us from some planet. They are peering into the large telescope that they have. They see us walking, talking, behavng normally. But suddenly a good bunch of people who were sipping wine and talking finely for the past 2 hours start to randomly wave their hands and butts around - what would that alien think? What sort of opinions would they form about human beings? How would they determine the cause of that behavior? The situation would be more funny if the aliens got only the video and not the audio.
So yesterday, I dodged another attempt by my friends to get me on to the dance floor. The funny thing is (no its not funny that I could be an alien), that I still don't know why my feet move like Vikram Rathore (erstwhile India Opener) facing Allan Donald in Durban. More importantly, why do I think it matters? Afterall dancing is a combination of cycling and arm exercise at the same. Ya! nobody cares, I know that - but I guess I have worked myself into a pyschological state where I care. Maybe I wouldn't want that alien (whose name I don't knw) to analyze my behavior as wierd. Yes! thats it. Thats my reason.
In another years time I may not get such an opportunity to mingle and dance in such a crowd. Why am I doing this to myself?
I can't dance. sigh...