Quarter Past Seven

When you are on stage, with the lights shining at your face from all sides, trying to move in coordination with the rest of the dancers, doing your best to remember the correct sequence of steps, and making sure you land at correct position after four super fast spins, and all this happening at the same time, there’s nothing much that you can see beyond the stage.

But I did.

Last Saturday, at my dance performance, while trying to coordinate the ta-thei-tak-jhun of the music with my feet, I stole a glance at the fifth row from the front. When I saw the whole row full of my guests, my friends, and the bachcha-party, I was beyond myself with happiness. Most of them, complete strangers to Indian Classical music had come to support my group, see me in dance make-up, or watch whether I could leap across the stage in four steps.

While exiting the stage,  I couldn’t believe it was over. 6 minutes was never so little time. Backstage was euphoria. Some were happy that it was over, finally. Some were rejoicing their good performance. I was giving hugs to everyone, just for the heck of it. And then I ran from backstage to the lobby. With the bells on my feet going chham-chham-chham, my dupatta flying behind me, and me on the lookout for my friends who were waiting for me to come out to the lobby. If you have ever watched a bollywood movie from the 70s, you have probably seen the actress run across a field to meet her long-lost-just-rescued-from-a-daaku lover. I looked exactly like that. I swear. I entered the lobby and saw that there were people congratulating the dancers for doing a good job.

Yipeee!

And I met my friends. I got flowers! I know I’ve mentioned on my blog before that I don’t like flowers. I always tell people I don’t like flowers and I don’t know why people feel happy to receive it. I realized that day what bullshit that was.

I love flowers.

I just had to get them from someone else once.