Somedays back my friends and I got a very pleasant invitation. “It is my sister’s wedding, Make sure you are all there”.
Marriage I believe is a colossal waste. There is so much food and hard earned money is spent to make wedding as spectacular as your wallet will allow. Ladies with all their garish, gawdy clothes and excessive make up while men on the other hand wearing really uncomfortable clothes just to outdo one another. The couple in question whose happiness we are supposedly celebrating just sit on the pedestal onlookers of their own marriage. But I am not married so what do I know about marriages anyway?
So, coming back to the original theme, My Friend’s Sister’s Wedding had everything quintessential about weddings, the abundant foods, the overdressed crowd etc. When talking about the wedding though, it is not complete without mention of the ‘Baraati Dance’.
‘Baraati Dance ’ is a demonstration of pure energy with no inhibition whatsoever and unmindful of the surroundings. The same thing happened at this wedding too when we took to the stage. It was almost a pandemonium.The most bizarre movement of the body and the twisted face expression said what words could never do. It would put the most accomplished dancer to shame for we were dancing to our own tune and for ourselves and not to put on a display. We danced our hearts out until our performance was cut short because kids were getting scared and some started crying.
I have had my fair share of experiences with dancing, some good and some not so good but there is one that stuck with me.
At one of my distant cousin’s wedding, I was among the many that attended the match made in heaven (some overzealous aunts of course played a part in its fruition. The aunts must be angels then) I was gauging the quality of the crowd(if you know what I mean) and lay patiently like a predator waiting to pounce on my unsuspecting prey. After I zoomed in on the prey, I got my cousin to get a good introduction. Helpful as my cousin was, I was set for the night to have a good time.
Prey’s name was Payal and she was good looking and it turned out she was interested in the conversation (pretty difficult to resist my charm anyway). The night was pacing along nicely and we were having good conversation. It was almost like we clicked and I was about to ask for her number (this was pre facebook days and getting number was means to get to know her better) when suddenly I was pulled away for dancing.
After the due notanki, I caved in to the temptation of dancing. I danced like there was no tomorrow, I totally gave in to the primal desires and before I could be lost in the trance, I happen to get a look at Payal’s face. She was shellshocked and her face was drained of colour almost as if she had seen a ghost. I stopped my sterling performance midway an was trying to approach her when she turned and ran like I was some kind of vampire thirsty for her blood. She was not seen for the rest of the night and I never got her number.
I always knew I am not Hrithik Roshan but whenever I try to dance now Payal’s face always haunts me.