Thursday, April 26, 2007

Dance away

I stood in pose.
Head down.
Hands rested on my thighs.
Hip jutted.
A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E.
The word flashed in my mind.
My shoulders became straighter.
I stood taller.


I could hear the C.D. being inserted and the whirring sound it made before the head found the right track. Time to move.

Choreographing this song had been the best experience. It was supposed to be a "sexy" song, and initially, had sent all of us into peals of laughter and had caused a lot of blushing. Now...well....

It started off in a freestyle. We moved and swayed to the music, throwing occasional se..xy..., oh who am I kidding, with pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and loud movements, we were trying to look our sexiest best. I never dared to steal a glance at the guys during this one minute. It was a frightening thought.

Freeze. The girls on either side moved ahead. I followed suit.

One, two, three, four. Step. Step.

Don't stop, don't stop, hissed the girl singing the song.

Butt shake. I stifled a smile. A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E flashed in my mind again.

The song slowed down to a sultry beat, and we went on all fours and crawled ahead. The next step was lovingly termed the "babuji" step by all of us. Man, that Yana Gupta sure made this one look easy.

Twist, twist, move up.

Walk. One, two, three, look over shoulder, four.

Don't stop, don't stop.
Hips sashayed to the music, sending the edge of a flouncy skirt slightly high. Instinctively, four pairs of male eyes glanced in that direction. Boys will be boys.

The music stopped with a final plea of Don't stop, don't stop.
We stood in attention, waiting for the hip hop number to start. I loved this song. It was upbeat, energetic, and sporty. It made you bounce around the place, and the first few days were spent in getting the light spring in every step. It had jerks, swift moves, all oozing out punkish vibes. It made you feel light and carefree while moving. Plus, this sequence had a snazzy mix of Indian jhatkas and Western pump.

The irregular moves now gave way to technically perfect moves for Sean Paul's Temperature. Each move had to be well defined, and perfectly timed.

More hip shakes. More spins. The guys really had strenuous moves. Falls, push -ups, almost like a work out regime!

I got da right temperature to shelter you from da storm....
One, two, three, cross, left, right, move across.
Head, hip, shake, turn
left, right, pose, turn
The guys then took us by the waist and sent us spinning into the centre.

One spin, two spin. stop.

oh I wanna be da Papa...You can be da Mom....oh oh!
Right leg out, one step in, left, right, shake that thing. :P

With one swift movement, the final positions were taken.

Applause.

The choreographer dude then corrected some of us. New positions were decided. Costumes changed.

I was on a high. My mind had nothing but bits and pieces of the various songs mixed in it, creating a soundtrack of my own. My breath was shallow and my limbs ached. Sweat dripped slowly down my back. Loose tendrils of hair stuck on my cheeks.

Once more, he yelled.

I got into position.

I snuck a peek at the watch.

It was just 7 A.M.


Friday, April 20, 2007

At times, I am the shoulder. And then, I need one.
I seek inspiration.
I don't think being taken for granted is a sign of true friendship.
It puzzles me why saying and doing the right thing is always so difficult.
It is easier hiding behind a facade.
Sometimes, I cry myself to sleep. And sometimes, I'm too excited to close my eyes.
It happens to only some of us.
No one can hear a heart breaking.
Life is to be smiled at.
Friends are hard to find.
Memories keep me smiling.
Mercurial.
There are a million things that go through my mind and there are million things I want to say. At times, I wish to say nothing at all.
I'm here but not really.
Whoever said it's hard to break a friendship had no idea what he was talking about.
Things are easily forgotten. Feelings easily ignored.
We are selfish people.
Parents are the world.
New York would be an amazing city to live in.
Moments of clarity are often delusional.
Friendship is tolerance.
Trust is an oxymoron.
Loneliness breeds introspect.


I had to say something. I have no idea where I got lost

Monday, April 02, 2007

There it stood. Tall. In all its glory.

Beautiful.

Mesmerizing.

Enchanting.

A rose.

It made everyone stop and stare. A second look definitely.
Kids called it pretty. Females cooed. Men admired.

Pompous and vain.
But gorgeous nevertheless.

The ordinary ferns on either side enhanced its appeal.

Attractive. Alluring.

But it wasn't long before it started shedding. Wilting.
With that came a pervasive noisome odor.

The odor that reeked of dying vanity, and short lived glamour.

I always wonder why I love roses.
.