Tag Archives: dance

There it goes again.

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Dear Foot,

Do you not like me? First you went and stuck yourself under sharp pencil heels, and bled away happily. Then, you had yet another rendezvous with another unwitting, innocent shoe wedge that had me limping around school for a couple of days. And yesterday, even on a pure, festive occasion such as Diwali, you couldn’t resist the urge and plunged into the darkness, only to land up in a bog of rotting squishiness. And now you’re swollen and incapable of supporting my body mass, and the pain shoots up my leg every time I walk. I tried to tame you, hold you back with proper footwear, but no..you have to lash out at them and rip them off yourself in the middle of the road. What do I do with you?

Sigh,
The rest of me

Little Secrets.

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So my uncle/aunt and mom/dad went to check out the casino, and left their chubby little ten year old boy and thirteen year old girl at home with a twenty year old on a Saturday night.
What could I do; I hunted around the store room, dug out this old fan that swiveled and stuck these mini disco balls (thermocol spheres covered with tiny hexagonal mirrors) I’d stubbornly bought for 50 Rs. onto the fan, put a green lamp under the balls, and we had floating lights around my room. I’d promised them a great time, and so I decided I’d do what I enjoyed and hoped for a contagion effect. I plugged in the speakers.

And then the little boy moonwalked. He did the pelvic. He did all the MJ signature moves, and he sang along fervently while we blasted everything from MJ to Greenday to Daddy Yankee, peppered with the usual hindi favourites. The She shook off all inhibitions and grooved along in style, and suddenly she was belly dancing. I stood there amazed half the time, gawking at the sheer talent that had thus far been wittingly reserved beneath bashful dispositions. The kids had finally let me in on their little secret.

But perhaps there’s more…because when I asked little MJ if he would have more rice, he looked up, shrugged and said “How can I possibly tell you the future?! Let me have what I’m eating now.” Cheeky little twerp never used to bother with comebacks. But the She…she’s probably still fuming at me for throwing her from the bed onto the floor more than a decade ago…what else is a six year old to do if a baby suddenly takes a leak in her lap? 😦

Because the club shouldn’t be allowed to handle you.

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Dear Nik,

Please return to your original sane state, or the consequences shall befall your besotted brain with such magnanimity that no amount of booty shaking will shed the effects. You are not a soldier returning from the battlefield that is the dance floor, neither is R&B any form of war-cry. Having multiple bruises and muscle aches/sprains does not make you a juggernaut of a hero. So please stop bragging about it.

Your father bandaged your foot today – take that as a symbolic gesture of a superior, sagacious authority plastering his hopes of academic brilliance onto your swollen bumps of nothingness. The only place you shall boogie from now on will be the library. Be resolute on this. Or else, die a miserable death you shall.

Your supremely miffed left side of the brain.

Crunched.

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Before the plague of inactivity makes my blog shrivel up and die, I must ask you hopeful mourners to shed that sneer of cynicism, and rejoice. Your disparaging outlook on my indolence would best be put to rest, for that does not constitute the reason for my brief hiatus. A recent tragedy does however, stand accountable.

Like they say (because none of us are privy to lameness),
One machine to rule them all
One machine to find them
One machine to bring them all
And in the darkness find them

The only difference is having the machine makes me more visible to the public eye. My Precious still has me mercilessly stranded; I currently make do with precariously borrowed, or sometimes even sneakily stolen goods. For the uninitiated, my laptop crashed. I’m currently using my dad’s, but he doesn’t know that.

Anyhow, my body is now hosting a bunch of lactic acids that are partying it up. And boy are they wild.
But I’m not mad at them; serves me (and all of us who were partners in crime) right for subjecting the trainer to three hours of what I hoped was Hip Hop. But I am, I think and hope, getting the hang of the body language now. Loads of crunching and bad-ass attitude.

Sleep beckons.

Goodnight all you beautiful people.

I keel.

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I wasn’t going to derail from my objective of not making this space a platform for emotional cathartic upheavals, but I am so supremely miffed right now that any form of cession to past resolutions momentarily eludes me. This is my space, so If I want to sit and rant like a cantankerous old hag, then I shall.

I hate these mad at everyone for everything moments, especially when everyone includes myself.
The only thing I am not mad at right now is the creamy rich chocolate cake, bits of which have been amalgamating in my insides, making friends and preparing for permanent residency in their organic forms in various parts of my body. Luckily for them I’m not Canadian, else they would stand no chance.

I’m learning Hip Hop. Finally. With a bunch of people who don’t make me feel like I’m amongst human robots programmed to figuratively break their bodies into separate pieces and make them boogie independently of one another. I think I’m going to enjoy it; primarily because I was crazy enough to subconsciously practice shuffling my feet while sitting in a crowded bus, on my way home after a long, long day without sleep and rest. Shuffling screws with your head – at least mine, which barks orders at the heel of my right foot to lift up while simultaneously willing the heel of my left foot to stay in its place and lift up the toes instead. And you’re supposed to side-walk while doing this. It’s amusing to see the trainer trying hard not to laugh at us as we try to monkey his antics, and then just giving up; emulating us and setting the whole room roaring with laughter. It’s very relieving to finally learn dance at a technical level again – it has been 10 years since I last did that. We also learn Salsa this semester. 😀

Oh, and did I derail from my derailment? I think I did. Lucky you.