Dance Diaries

So ever since I was a kid, I really liked to dance.

No, I wasn’t that kid who danced at every function for everyone’s entertainment and parents’ pride. But I was definitely that kid who enjoyed dancing. Even if I couldn’t.

Ever since I remember, I wanted to learn how to dance. In summers, winters, any time humanly possible. My school decided my artistic talents were much more important to follow, and decided my path in that direction. Out of the school, there just weren’t opportunities at the time.

And then came the studies, and more studies, and then some more. And then work. And well. Funny how many reasons there end up being for a person to NOT dance.

Well, that was all of the last 24 years.

Now, I’m back home. The opportunity arose. And I grabbed it.

No studies, no working weekends, no excuses.

There have been two classes thus far. Two very long classes. Five hours, that made me feel very very old, and very very unfit.

For one, at 24, apparently my body doesn’t believe in exercise anymore. So while the instructor is pushing my legs wider apart into what should one day hopefully turn into a split, my body is literally screaming at me for torturing it, and my mind is conjuring up images of a very comfortable bed to cozy into with a book.

And then I look around and see all these teenage girls looking at me with eyebrows raised. On my first day, one walked up to me and asked me what class I was in. When I told her I was working, her exact words were, and I quote, “O-M-G!”

Apparently, it’s no longer cool to say full words.

The next day as I waited for my ride home, these two skinny girls in hot pants looked at me suspiciously and asked not-so-subtly, “How old are you?”. My response was followed by a “Woowwww….”

So there I stand, in a class filled with tiny kids dressed to kill, kids who have been dancing for some time, and have a lifetime left to dance some more. And I stand there, huffing and puffing, trying to keep up, and hoping I don’t pass out due to dehydration.

But I dance.

Because for those two hours, my mind goes blank. All those worries of the whole week, all those feelings, emotions, hurt, pain, disappointment, anxiety…for those two hours, everything disappears. For those two hours, all I’m aware of is myself, my body, my movements and the music. Every pain caused by a stretch in the muscle is a welcome change to the pain caused by a stretch of the mind. Every step not understood is a challenge more motivating than office politics. Every step finally achieved is success, as tiny as it might be, finally. Every emotion not felt, is joy, pure and simple.

And then, at the end of two hours, I step out, tired and sweaty, and the waves of emotions hit me, yet again.

Until next week.