Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Trying new things

A few weeks back, I opened my eyes to the glorious sunshine one morning to exclaim, “Shit, I will be turning 27 this year!”. I scurried to the bathroom mirror for tell-tale signs of greying hair, wrinkles on my face, or even a receding hairline. But everything looked fine. However, I now felt that my life-wicker was waning while I did the same mundane stuff over and over again. Nothing was wrong in my life, not an extra pimple on the face, no degenerating hormones or dystrophic muscles. But the very thought of spending a life analyzing health impacts of metals on humans was depressing. So I decided to try something new, something exciting.


I’d heard that my university friends were performing a classical dance for the opening of a new South Indian temple and were looking for another dancer. I speak or understand no Tamil, but I found myself for the rehearsals, inwardly rolling on the floor laughing when I heard the lyrics (which I understood nothing of). Having danced to tapori songs all my life, a classical performance was not what I had expected. Nothing had prepared me for a chance to dance Bharat Natyam to the song “Margazhi Thingal” in a temple. Most people I know perform after years of classical dance training, and the little bit of dance I had picked up was due to my interest in Bollywood. Yet the choreographer had immense confidence in me, no matter how long I took just to get my tripatakas and ardhapatakas and the other mudras right. Not just was the song alien to me, there were parts in the song where there were no words at all, but the tei-yum-dat-ta’s and the Jatis. I do not know if ignorance gave me the courage to go classical the first time in front of an audience, but here I was with a mini jasmine garden on my head, kohl-laden eyes, my limbs painted resplendent red with the red highlighter as a substitute for aalta, my mind vacillating in between controlling the ticklish sensation and wondering how very dermotoxic the highlighter would be. When I sent pictures, my family back home thought that I had dressed up all classical and hired a photographer to take my pics just for kicks.

 

My group wanted to perform to another song. It was a far cry from the Bharat Natyam I was religiously practicing. It was full of hip jerks and ovary-dislocating pelvic thrusts. For the next few weeks, I danced to songs that I did not understand with friends whose language I did not speak. I made my own version of the song in my head, making strange words out of what I understood. Imagine the fun you have dancing to something you do not understand, especially when the dance moves looked like milking cows. Someone even told me that I looked “authentic South Indian,” whatever that meant. Again, it wasn’t an earth shattering, but I think I did well. I was also able to get out of the lethargy that prevents you from trying out something new, getting pally with a group of unknown people from different backgrounds, no matter how trivial or unimportant the act or the effort itself was. I danced to kumbida pona deivam and yammadi athadi.

That summer, I also registered for level 1 salsa classes with my roommate and her boyfriend and completed it. I tried my hand at some bowling, thanks to a classmate of mine from Pakistan. I went to a bull riding show in Tacoma last month, starting watching (and liking) South Park, and went for a dance audition for another group last week.

sunshine.

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Sunshine And Sunrise

I just realized that I am more of an outdoor person than an indoor person, unless of course you put me on the dance floor. I also realized that though planned hanging outs are fun, surprises are way better. How do you feel when you are woken up on a weekday by the shrill ringing of the phone? You either expect an emergency call from your folks back in India, or you expect some jerk from a different time zone in the country playing a prank.

So, wanna see the sunrise?

Yeah sure, in your dreams, said a very groggy and irritated inner voice. A very sleepy me: What? When? Now? Well, okay… (still trying to figure out of it is April 1st)…. How long will it take you to come over? (Mentally calculated some 30 minutes of extra sleep)

Well, am right in front of your house.

What?

A very groggy me jumped out of the bed like the jumping jack out of its box, brushed and washed face and put on her slippers in record time, and in the next two minutes, was headed for the beach to see the sunrise in her pajamas and chappals. The sky by the sea had just started to change hues, and by Jove, this is one of the better sunrises I have seen. It wasn’t a big deal in India, but with the screwed up weather and the equally screwed up work schedule and lifestyle here, waking up at half past five just to watch the sun rise is definitely a big deal. And for the next few hours, we were happy people, whiling away time listening to the chirping of birds as they flew in a V-shaped herd, excitedly watching and waving at the train that snaked along the nearby railway tracks, and listening to the roar of the waves.

Like I said, planned trips are always great, but there is something about being woken up from sleep to be told that someone is waiting right outside the door, and the prospect of seeing the sun rise in pajamas and chappals has an amazing appeal to it. I would prefer it over wearing stylish dresses and high heeled shoes to a party. Absolutely anyday.

sunshine