(14 Aug ’08)
By the time you read
this, the program would have got over. Our dance is going to last three
minutes. For which we have practiced for over six weeks. Back to the beginning:
we have one of Sandip Soparrkar’s instructors coming in to teach us basic steps
of salsa, cha-cha, rumba, waltz, etc, once a week, at the hospital where I
work. We’re pretty serious about it because it’s the only exercise some of us
get. We’re all over forty. Our first teacher was a college student aspiring to
become an air-hostess. Our second was a physiotherapist who did this as a lark.
It was she who took the trouble over the choreography both for our Annual Day
dance as well as this one. I didn’t know about choreography glitches and the
finer points of arranging people on stage until I got involved in this. Just as
we were getting the hang of the order of the steps, she got a Fellowship to the
US and flew off. The next teacher was…is.. a dietician who’s taken to full time
dance work. This sort of ‘second occupation” is common in Mumbai. Actually it’s
not uncommon in Goa, either, for I know many entertainers at five star hotels
who hold day jobs, too.
She took over from the
physiotherapist girl and we began serious practice under her. Since we all have
hectic and overlapping schedules, getting together was a problem. Sometimes we
stayed after office hours, sometimes during the lunch break we met where we
could. The conference hall was seldom available, so we made use of the
corridors and on one occasion, even the parking area in the compound, watched
on by amused/bored drivers/hangers-on. It was important to know the steps by
heart, and so we did them over and over again. Whilst the problems of space and
time could be overcome, egos couldn’t. “If he thinks his time is important,
so’s mine.” “If she’s going to sulk like this, let her drop out. Or I will.” Extra-curricular
activities help in discovering the true nature of people. And nothing like them to develop teamwork.
This function is like
another Annual Day. All of Sandip Soparrkar’s (do a google on him and find out
how this Indian is dancing with and teaching dance to Hollywood stars) classes
are presenting short items on a single evening. The tickets were sold out the
day the show was announced!! So much so that we performers will not get a
chance to watch as spectators unless we’d bought a ticket at the time. There
will be dancers from banks, colleges, the corporate companies, the world of
housewives… and at the end of the show, tv celebrities. Whether all of this is
world class, I will never know. But the enthusiasm it has generated amongst the
participants is infectious.
I don’t know how we
juggled our timings and went shopping for the cloths/tailors/accessories. We
had to practice in those shiny stilettos (most of us normally wear sensible,
strappy flats) so that we got used to them. The men met their tailor at a
naakaa, a major crossroad, in the middle of traffic, to get their shirts!! Talk
about co-ordination.
Through the Ganapati
season, we’ve had the words of ‘sweets for my sweet, sugar for my honey’
rumbling through our heads. As one of my mates commented: We’re sozzled with
dance. Standing on the pavement one evening, I instinctively began to try out
the steps until my husband, first puzzled and then irritated, stopped me from
walking strangely in short circles and swaying from side to side…I was
practicing a step that I’d found a bit complicated to a beat that was coming
from the music system of a passing car. It was, as I said, instinctive.
We’ve marked out our
places, measuring the distances between us, practiced our expressions, overcome
our mistakes and are ready for the Big Day.
Before I end, I’d like
to share a story about a positive attitude. A lady I know had her anal
sphincter ruined over two decades ago by a surgeon’s scalpel. A mistake. For
years she’s had a problem holding back her stool. She suffers from ulcerative
colitis, a bad medical condition. I’ve never heard her complain even ONCE about
what she was going through. Always took her ‘potty problems’ as she called
them, with humour. Last year, she had to undergo a hernia surgery. On the
table, whilst she was under anaesthesia, a severe and difficult decision had to
be taken. The surgeon found that her colon was riddled with perforations and
that would have put her life in danger. Hence it had to be removed, and unknown
to her, she regained consciousness with a stoma-bag attached to her abdomen.
For the rest of her life, her faeces would be excreted through that bag, not
via the normal route. This year, on the ‘anniversary’ of that surgery, she told
me quite cheerfully about how she and her colon had ‘parted ways’. Her attitude
has kept her family life happy and secure. More importantly, she’s lived as
healthily as is possibly under the circumstances. When she learnt about our
dance program, she said she’d be there. “Know what,” she said, “Now I don’t
have to worry about rushing to the toilet or soiling my clothes. I can go out
at leisure and empty out that bag.” Humbles me.
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