Naach? Naah!

I have been a Bharatanatyam dancer for most of my life.
I take the dance form very seriously, and have spent
much sweat honing it. Some years ago, I came to a top school in the
US for
a PhD in Engineering. Ever since, I've been palpably aware of the
dreariness of technical and academic fields. In resolute
rebellion, I've been trying to hold on to my artistic and feminine
sensibilities, in the process, often coming across as an upcoming
Bollywood starlet to serious fellow PhDs.

In one such artistic endeavor, I joined an introductory
course in Modern dance, offered by the much acclaimed dance school of
my university. I have always been skeptical of the word
"Modern", when used in the context of dance. A little footnote as to
why - I once went to a Modern dance "show" that had silence and
darkness on stage for the first 45 minutes. Of course, I didn't stay
to find out what happened after that. (I recall thinking that a
similar effect was achieved by a tardy 'projector-change wala' at
Metro cinema, to not nearly as rave reviews). Since my only experience with
Modern dance had left me, let's say, a little blank, I did not know
what to expect from the class. The only other reference I had heard to
Modern dance, was by some 50-year-old respectable South Indian
gentlemen, who used it (with eyes shining) to describe Zeenat Aman's
moves in an 80s number. Clearly, that didn't count.

On the first day of class, I was clueless, and very
conscious of it. I was fervently drawing from my self image of
a Bollywood star (starlet was others' perception, not mine) who could
just whip up mean moves with no hint of prior training.
I was surrounded by classmates, who also seemed new to Modern dance.

The instructor, Ray, was an American man in his 30s, who, going by his
convoluted warm-up stretches, was supple, but not subtle.
He gave a short speech about movement, and how it was
important to our lives. Then, it began. He said, "In today's class,
we will deal with contact improvisation." Awed silence. "For starters,
please lie on the floor and start rolling like barrels towards the
wall." Shocked disbelief.

The other students were all American, except an Indian
guy who looked like he asked a lot of questions. True to the American
spirit, they were accepting, unconditioned and ready for anything. I
was telling myself I was really liberal, and just needed a channel
and a setting to unleash it. So there we were, pretending to be
barrels, literally rolling on ourselves to get a grade.
With my torso suspended in mid-air during a roll, I heard Ray
give the killer command,
"Do not scream or shout when you come in contact with another
person's body. Let your bodies touch and go with the flow."

When my torso gravitated downwards, I was feverishly hoping to not
meet another barrel. It turned out that I did. A petite
Chinese-American girl who had closed her eyes, and was smiling, like
the Buddha on a roll! I gave a high-pitched laughter and tried to
negotiate the next move,
since she didn't look like she was going to budge anymore. Shrill laughter
again. What was wrong with this woman? Did she really enjoy having my
hand on her belly? Meanwhile, "This is the place where you don't have
to say sorry when you meet another body. Don't collide, make smooth
transitions." OK, she finally moved. In all subsequent
rolls, I decided to hang my torso and arms in mid-air, until I was
sure that this beatific barrel (BB) had moved on.


"Feel the beauty of another body and respect it."
Now the class was taking a dangerous twist.
All the rolling bodies were converging toward one wall.
So all my maneuvers to
stay out of the other person's hair (or for that matter, trunk), were
going to nought. I tried various gymnastics to keep as many body parts
up in air, but kept landing on BB, or worse,
more intense barrels. As time rolled on, (I hate that expression now)
I found myself surrounded by thirty other people on the floor near the
wall, all within an arm's distance.

"Roll on. Come on, just a little more." What! If I rolled anymore, my
face would be on BB's hair and my backside below a blonde haired,
goody-two-shoes, who was clearly out to get an "A", even if it meant
kissing someone's backside.
"Don't feel
shy. Shed your inhibitions.". It was official. This
cooler-than-ice-pack instructor was orchestrating an orgy in the name
of Modern dance. There could be no other explanation for why I was
lying on the floor, in the middle of office hours, with a blonde girl
on my right arm, a Chinese girl on my left, and my face in the hair of
someone who did not believe in shampoo.

"Roll more. Feel the beauty of the human form." I was imagining
what it would be like if someone sneezed. I looked around at the pile
of people that had formed around me, all of whom
looked purposeful and happy. I repeated to myself
that I was open-minded too. A foot landed on my neck. I had an open mind.
I could handle that. I could handle lying in live debris,
with people whose name I would never care to know, and whose personal
hygiene I dared not know about. I thought of some stern relatives'
faces if they got to see me in this position. I thought of the horror
of some venerable acquaintances in my technical doctorate world, if
they knew that the researcher they were working with, lay amidst
people-sandwiches by day. No, no, hardly an open-minded
thought. Liberal thoughts, think liberal. Researchers could be in
orgies. Relatives need to accept that.

"Don't let years of conditioning affect you. Breathe in and
out with the same rhythm as the person next to you. In some time, the
whole pile will be breathing together." All except one. I wasn't
breathing. I was hoping that would be an easy way to end it.

Finally, "OK. Now roll back." Now that it had ended, I
would go and tell each person outside this room about how beautiful
the concept of contact imp... "but while rolling back,
you must stay connected
to one more person, who will be your partner. You and your partner
should never lose contact throughout the rolling, but no holding
hands, alright?" Alright?! This man was a pervert!

I was already on my "roll back", as I had charged with the speed of a
road roller as soon as he had said the words. I desperately tried to
look for a partner while rolling, fearing that I may land up with
someone I simply could not keep in touch with. The net result was
frenetic rolling, that made me look like an electric
eel, stuck on to a road roller. Finally, BB came to my rescue,
and smilingly put a leg and an arm across my stomach. I couldn't
believe that I was actually thankful it was her,
instead of a foreign body. And so we went around the room;
me, making jerky, jumpy and inhibited movements, and she acting like
it was most natural to flail herself on me. At one point, she got
adventurous and climbed on to me. I said a silent prayer. She
sinuously and quickly moved back to the floor after seeing me pray. "I
glanced around the room to see what
the curious looking Indian guy was unto. He looked like he'd lucked
out, with the blonde goody-two-more-than-shoes as his partner. I could
tell that he had found answers to a lot of his questions.

At one point, BB asked me to get on top of her. Too tired from strategizing,
I hopped on. Except, she was a pint
sized creature, and I can't say the same thing about myself. As i
consciously balanced myself on her, she
said, with the same spirit as a Hallmark Santa Claus, "Don't worry
about me. I have a footballer boyfriend who I piggyback all the time."
That did it. I had had enough already without being compared to a
piggybacking football jock. I flopped down with as much dignity as I
could muster.

"Hope this experience made you guys feel like a changed person. Hope
you felt a certain connection with
people with whom even language is normally a barrier." I walked out
of class a changed person alright. Loving evolution for creating
language. Tossing open-mindedness along with my chewing gum into the
trash. Trying not to judge Modern dance. Actually, judging it and
giving it an all-time low rank. Cursing myself for not keeping perfume
sachets in my pockets. Wondering if the Indian guy and the blondie had
hit it off. Running toward embracing the beautiful regimen and the
fascinating detail that an engineering PhD life
offered.