I hate dancing. I don't have the excitement for the art-form, or perhaps even the flexibility one should possess in order to move their body. Worst part of it all, I am an indian. Why? Because dancing as a skill for an indian is customary. We dance at weddings, parties, gatherings, recitals, when some music is playing, when the lights are down, and at birthdays apparently.
On Friday I was invited to a birthday. The invitation was a surprise, the party was meant to surprise the birthday girl. The group chat was wild with arguments and retorts the day before on what the venue should be. Everyone wanted something discreet and silent. But there wasn't one finalized. Being the good Samaritan, I chipped in an idea about how my building pool has a huge space beside it, easily holding thirty people. Sure residents and office workers made a fuss when I played games there, so there was definitely no issue with fifteen hot-headed teens dancing and shouting. Everyone agreed, and the plan was set in motion. Unfortunately, the security there was more worried about the property manager firing him than he was about a couple of teenagers ruining the serenity of peaceful Dubai.
The group decides to go to someone's house, empty of guests and parents alike. I get on my bike along with a friend and are stuck waiting for what seemed like eternity. Once we got into the house, someone immediately starts to play music. I once read an article on how concerts work. The artist or band start off with a medium amped song, to lift up the the crowd's mood. It is then followed by a couple of slow songs, then two fast-paced songs and then ends with slow chorus or a really upbeat tune. And all the songs are top-of-the-chart. Now with us Indians, we start with Punjabi, continue with Punjabi, mix it up with a couple of Hindi and English music, and end with Punjabi. And it doesn't seem to matter if the songs are good or not, they just need to be fast paced.
It's not that I 'hate' dancing as such, but jumping up and down to beats in a vulgar fashion isn't really my forte. If I learned to dance properly, with steps, I would enjoy immensely. But Friday evening was not a good experience. I loved the company, the conversations, the pizza and soda, but not the dancing. It was clear that I wasn't interested at all in joining any circles or taking center stage as I sweat the least amongst everyone in the apartment. Some of them asked me why I shied away, why I was being a loner, why I didn't join them when asked. I mumbled some garbage every time and hoped for the pain to stop.
The party did turn out to be better than expected considering the mismanagement and lack of planning, and the fact that the best impression I had on people was when I dared to call a girl I unfriended, and talk to her while people sniggered in the background.
On Friday I was invited to a birthday. The invitation was a surprise, the party was meant to surprise the birthday girl. The group chat was wild with arguments and retorts the day before on what the venue should be. Everyone wanted something discreet and silent. But there wasn't one finalized. Being the good Samaritan, I chipped in an idea about how my building pool has a huge space beside it, easily holding thirty people. Sure residents and office workers made a fuss when I played games there, so there was definitely no issue with fifteen hot-headed teens dancing and shouting. Everyone agreed, and the plan was set in motion. Unfortunately, the security there was more worried about the property manager firing him than he was about a couple of teenagers ruining the serenity of peaceful Dubai.
The group decides to go to someone's house, empty of guests and parents alike. I get on my bike along with a friend and are stuck waiting for what seemed like eternity. Once we got into the house, someone immediately starts to play music. I once read an article on how concerts work. The artist or band start off with a medium amped song, to lift up the the crowd's mood. It is then followed by a couple of slow songs, then two fast-paced songs and then ends with slow chorus or a really upbeat tune. And all the songs are top-of-the-chart. Now with us Indians, we start with Punjabi, continue with Punjabi, mix it up with a couple of Hindi and English music, and end with Punjabi. And it doesn't seem to matter if the songs are good or not, they just need to be fast paced.
It's not that I 'hate' dancing as such, but jumping up and down to beats in a vulgar fashion isn't really my forte. If I learned to dance properly, with steps, I would enjoy immensely. But Friday evening was not a good experience. I loved the company, the conversations, the pizza and soda, but not the dancing. It was clear that I wasn't interested at all in joining any circles or taking center stage as I sweat the least amongst everyone in the apartment. Some of them asked me why I shied away, why I was being a loner, why I didn't join them when asked. I mumbled some garbage every time and hoped for the pain to stop.
The party did turn out to be better than expected considering the mismanagement and lack of planning, and the fact that the best impression I had on people was when I dared to call a girl I unfriended, and talk to her while people sniggered in the background.
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