I stood there , a proud friend, taking pride in seeing my friend do what she did best, what brought her joy, in what she put her heart and soul. This was evident from her energy, which was turned up to maximum, and there was no bringing her down (not even a bum shoulder). And she didn’t keep this energy to herself. It radiated from every pore of her being, to be absorbed by all present there, who couldn’t help but be caught up, who wanted to be part of her joy.
They joyfully followed her, keeping up with every step, every move, with huge smiles on their faces, mirroring her joy, her enthusiasm, feeding off the energy she gave them. They didn’t mind the weather, or the beads of sweat. The night may have been a shade warmer, but their passion burned brighter. There was nothing going to stop them from having a good time.
I stood there, witnessing this all, a proud friend, who couldn’t be more happy and prouder of her and what she was doing for the community, for her passion. I couldn’t help but get caught up in the joy, the enthusiasm, trying hard to fight the temptation of getting swept up in her and the crowd’s enthusiasm. But then wasn’t quite dressed for the occasion (a silly excuse you may say), and when it comes to Zumba the feet don’t quite move fast as the music (blame it on diminishing cognitive ability (if cognitive is the right term to be used here)). So I stood trying hard to resist in joining the fun. But yeah wouldn’t mind getting up and jiving (the pavwala way, as I have learned that we don’t jive but technically do a pavwala version of rock‘n’ roll), cause baby I was born to jive (ya right!).
As I watched them I couldn’t help but notice her. It was not because of who she was or what she wore, it was her joy and unbridled happiness that actually caught your attention. Neither her flimsy saree, or her lack of proper Zumba gear, and for that matter shoes, could stop her from joining the fun, from being part, to soak up the energy and passion that was all around her. Her attire, her presence bore the marks of life on the streets, the dirt and grime. She wasn’t bothered that others may stare at her, or tell her she wasn’t meant to be there. She didn’t bother what others thought of her, she was meant to be there and no one was stopping her from having a good time, as much as anyone present there.
So she put down the tissues she was selling and her baby, who enthusiastically joined her doing his own thing, and she joined the fun, as her companion watched, hesitating, contemplating whether to join her or not, wondering if someone would tell them they couldn’t. Their hesitation didn’t bother her a bit, she just laughed, and followed enthusiastically. She kept up with the steps but gave her spin to it. So when you saw her, you couldn’t help but smile. Her joy and happiness palpable, you couldn’t help but get caught in it. She danced from a place deep within. She did it totally befikaar, bejizak, bindaas, dil se. When the music stopped, she joined in the cool down session, giving hi5 as my friend went around.
As I stood there, trying to capture the moment, I knew what I witnessed was something special, something beautiful, something that transcended barriers, that showed that the strata of society only existed in our minds, take them away and we are one and there’s no stopping anyone from having a good time. That evening’s music and dance, Zumba to be correct, proved to be the great unifier, transcending generations and social status. So it didn’t matter if you were young or old, rich or poor, male or female (though there was very little to none, male participation), there was no stopping you from having a good time.
Couldn’t help but smile about what I had witnessed, feeling proud of not just my friend, but also for music and Zumba for bringing people together.
No comments:
Post a Comment