I wrote this song when i was depressed on my birthday (obviously).
It’s that low-down, no-good, heartbreakin’ feelin’, that’s fillin’ my soul today…
But if its cause of a boy
Or a broken toy,
And I don’t know why I’m so forlorn, on the day that I was born…
I just don’t want to see the light of day…
It’s that low-down, no-good, heartbreakin’ feelin’, that’s fillin’ my soul today…
And the only clues,
Are the blues?
And I don’t know why, I’m so dismayed, on the day that I was born,
I just don’t want to see the light of day…
And whether it’s a passing afternoon,
Or just another bad day, come too soon,
It’s the paper bag of my heart,
That wants to fly away…
It’s that low-down, no-good, heartbreakin’ feelin’, that’s fillin’ my soul today…
Don’t want to spoil the chance,
For an unasked dance, (something romance)
And I don’t know why, I’m so mixed up, on the day I was born,
I just don’t want to see the light of day…
It’s that low-down, no-good, heartbreakin’ feelin’, that’s fillin’ my soul today…
And all I want to do, is sing a song or two,
All alone in the harebrained jungle of my mind,
Or go swimming in a deserted pool, just unwind,
If I cant have that boy, that toy,
I don’t know what those blues clues signify…
And over the unasked dance I cry…
I just don’t want to see the light of day…
And whether it’s a passing afternoon,
Or just another bad day, come too soon,
The paper bag of my heart,
Just wants to fly away…
Friday 23 November 2007
Wednesday 26 September 2007
Broken
I feel you slipping through my grasp.
like sand through my fingers,
tiny fragments of your being,
crash to the ground at my feet, and splinter,
so why, tell me why, is it that i'm the one,
who feels so broken.
Your hand is lying in mine,
but your heart is far away,
and the pleasure i should feel
of having you by my side,
is shattered, ruined, damaged
by your love.
You let yourself walk away,
i want to run, catch up,
beg and plead, on bended knee,
cant think of anything that
would keep your love
entwined with mine
And I feel you slipping through my grasp.
like sand through my fingers,
tiny fragments of your being,
crash to the ground at my feet, and splinter,
so why, tell me why, is it that i'm the one,
who feels so broken.
like sand through my fingers,
tiny fragments of your being,
crash to the ground at my feet, and splinter,
so why, tell me why, is it that i'm the one,
who feels so broken.
Your hand is lying in mine,
but your heart is far away,
and the pleasure i should feel
of having you by my side,
is shattered, ruined, damaged
by your love.
You let yourself walk away,
i want to run, catch up,
beg and plead, on bended knee,
cant think of anything that
would keep your love
entwined with mine
And I feel you slipping through my grasp.
like sand through my fingers,
tiny fragments of your being,
crash to the ground at my feet, and splinter,
so why, tell me why, is it that i'm the one,
who feels so broken.
Wednesday 5 September 2007
Loweship has beed came fer me
let me open u up and slip inside,
let me caress every curve, the soft bits...and the hard.
let me turn you on, make you quiver.
let me take you around the world overnight.
sometimes slow and soft, sometimes hard and fast.
until youre falling apart, then ill take you home.
let me put you under the sheets, let me tuck you in.
let me, let me, let me, let me. let me drive you tonight.
My lumbering purple chevy impala.
...And i thought no one ever wrote me lowe songs. :P
let me caress every curve, the soft bits...and the hard.
let me turn you on, make you quiver.
let me take you around the world overnight.
sometimes slow and soft, sometimes hard and fast.
until youre falling apart, then ill take you home.
let me put you under the sheets, let me tuck you in.
let me, let me, let me, let me. let me drive you tonight.
My lumbering purple chevy impala.
...And i thought no one ever wrote me lowe songs. :P
Friday 31 August 2007
Poetry With Young People
When I was in boarding school, we had a poet come stay with us - Gieve Patel. He made us listen to poetry and inspired us to write some too.
The following two poems are mine which were recently published in a book called Poetry With Young People, edited by Gieve Patel.
My Mother Before Her Morning Cup Of Tea
The eyes flash,
Like a lighthouse,
Against the expose of (her)the cheeks,
Her breath comes out short and fast -
A sea about to erupt from her bed.
Trapped
I stared at myself in the mirror,
Wanting to free (me)myself,
Yet, as hard as I tried
to peel off the layers
accumulated,
I couldn't;
(I was) Trapped
By my own biases,
And those of my peers.
These are the edited versions of the poems. The originals are slightly different but I felt and still feel that it makes all the difference. The brackets indicate what I had written originally.
The following two poems are mine which were recently published in a book called Poetry With Young People, edited by Gieve Patel.
My Mother Before Her Morning Cup Of Tea
The eyes flash,
Like a lighthouse,
Against the expose of (her)the cheeks,
Her breath comes out short and fast -
A sea about to erupt from her bed.
Trapped
I stared at myself in the mirror,
Wanting to free (me)myself,
Yet, as hard as I tried
to peel off the layers
accumulated,
I couldn't;
(I was) Trapped
By my own biases,
And those of my peers.
These are the edited versions of the poems. The originals are slightly different but I felt and still feel that it makes all the difference. The brackets indicate what I had written originally.
Tuesday 21 August 2007
3 AM Blues
I'm almost violently ill with emotion.
but still happy, sad, pleased, amused, longing
drowning in the pool of feelings,
gladly slipping away into the beyond,
my body and a part of my mind reacts normally,
and the rest of me is a purple and silver,
gauzy dress floating, in layers,
all around me, like a tent, covering me,
allowing my arms to slip through the sleeves,
my head to push through the neck of the dress,
draping me, becoming me,
but is that who I really am?
is that who I'm meant to be?
or who I long to be?
or will I wake up to another tomorrow?
but still happy, sad, pleased, amused, longing
drowning in the pool of feelings,
gladly slipping away into the beyond,
my body and a part of my mind reacts normally,
and the rest of me is a purple and silver,
gauzy dress floating, in layers,
all around me, like a tent, covering me,
allowing my arms to slip through the sleeves,
my head to push through the neck of the dress,
draping me, becoming me,
but is that who I really am?
is that who I'm meant to be?
or who I long to be?
or will I wake up to another tomorrow?
Wednesday 1 August 2007
Cinnamon Oil (In Your Eyes)
It's a golden sunset, pulling you under
It's Mondays child, full of wonder
It's liquid gold, a shimmering hue
It's a story untold, beckoning to you.
It's a candy coated dream, sugary sweet,
It's the soft rubbing of palms against your feet,
It's a handful of pills to put you to sleep
It's not looking four ways before you take the leap.
And when you feel you're a fraud and nobody cares,
When you feel like you're dead, but hope's always there,
When your eyes are burning with the sweet smell of spice
And when all you can rely on is the roll of the dice,
It feels like you've got cinnamon oil in your eyes.
It's the flame inside you that flickers and dies,
It's the spark inside you that kindles and incites.
It's pain and its joy, ecstasy and sorrow,
It's yesterdays dreams that speak of tomorrow.
And when you feel you're a fraud and nobody cares,
When you feel like you're dead, but hope's always there,
When your eyes are burning with the sweet smell of spice
And when all you can rely on is the roll of the dice,
It feels like you've got cinnamon oil in your eyes.
Song I wrote. Anybody got a tune for it?
It's Mondays child, full of wonder
It's liquid gold, a shimmering hue
It's a story untold, beckoning to you.
It's a candy coated dream, sugary sweet,
It's the soft rubbing of palms against your feet,
It's a handful of pills to put you to sleep
It's not looking four ways before you take the leap.
And when you feel you're a fraud and nobody cares,
When you feel like you're dead, but hope's always there,
When your eyes are burning with the sweet smell of spice
And when all you can rely on is the roll of the dice,
It feels like you've got cinnamon oil in your eyes.
It's the flame inside you that flickers and dies,
It's the spark inside you that kindles and incites.
It's pain and its joy, ecstasy and sorrow,
It's yesterdays dreams that speak of tomorrow.
And when you feel you're a fraud and nobody cares,
When you feel like you're dead, but hope's always there,
When your eyes are burning with the sweet smell of spice
And when all you can rely on is the roll of the dice,
It feels like you've got cinnamon oil in your eyes.
Song I wrote. Anybody got a tune for it?
Monday 25 June 2007
No one ever dances with a Phat Chick.
The world is a sucky place. A place where no woman has the right to have womanly curves, and where no man wants to dance with a FAT CHICK. You heard me: the title may say Phat. I mean "Fat".
Fat can be of many types; slightly overweight is the same as obese which is the same as curvacious, but its all the same in the end, innit?
I just dont understand it. Why would someone want to dance with a girl who has 2 left feet and is stick-thin, when he can dance with someone who manages to move subtly but sensuously, and has a bit of a belly?
I'm not talking about myself here, thought this post does stem from personal experiences. Since you've all guessed by now, I don't get asked to dance much. And thus I have time to stand in the corner and observe. Guys only dance with girls who are "pretty", thin, and who wear revealing (or whats currently "in") type clothes.
Say theres a grossly overweight girl, who is pretty even though she's fat (pretty fat-teehee) and she's wearing something that nicely covers up her bulges, makes her figure looks somewhat streamlined and is a good dancer. Like she manages to move well without doing too much or trying to do things she shouldn't be doing at her size even if she can manage them. She's danced before with these men, they've even seen and appreciated the way she moves.. yet she has to ask them for a dance. Ofcourse they wont say no. And they'll enjoy the freakin' dance. But a little part of her dies.
I know it seems sexist to assume that the guy should ask the girl, but then again it is not a girls place to refuse a guy a dance. Basic manners state that a if a guy asks you to dance, you cannot refuse him the first time. The second time you can plead hurting feet or tired-ness. But the first time, you HAVE to dance. No matter if he's butt-ugly, unattractive, cannot dance, steps on your feet, has bad breath, is shorter than you. No matter that your feet are killing you in those stilettos or that you're dying for a drink or you're short of breath or you are just plain turned off by the sight of him. You HAVE to follow through with the first dance. It takes a lot of guts for a guy to walk across the room and ask a girl to dance, especially if he doesn't know her. Be nice to him and dance with him. Its only 3 minutes of your entire life.
But the whole problem lies in him asking you. What if he doesn't? Then what do you do? And on a dance floor(as it happens in many other areas(not counting birth records) there are always more girls than guys. Which means that the most of the guys will be dancing on the floor, with a "hot" skinny chick, while the slightly differently shaped girls stand around at the sides hoping for a dance. Catching a guy standing at the side is difficult enough; asking him to dance just kills you. slowly, but surely.
Especially in India, where even in a place like Bombay, a girl going up and asking a guy to dance elicits stares, sniggers and weird looks. "oh my god, she is so desperate/outgoing(they say that like its a bad thing)/slutty" I mean come on!
Despite all my ranting on this subject, the other day I went to a local salsa night and made sure that I sought out all the guys I like dancing with and asked them.
Out of the 12 guys I danced with that night, only 2 had asked me for a dance. The remaining, stood mildly in a corner while paid no heed to my crying ego, and gathered up the courage to go and ask them to dance. I had quite a blast that night. Danced with full abandon, enjoyed myself to bits; I'm sure the guys enjoyed themselves too (well, they didn't complain - :-|)
I got home later that night, opened the door to an over enthusiastic dog jumping on me, so glad to see me home and while sitting down on the bed and cuddling her, cried my heart out.
The facts still remain:
1. It still hurts, no matter what.
2. Society and other peoples stares will affect you
3. You will have a blast dancing and get bunions from the heels you're wearing.
and
4. A little part of you will die when you lie in your bed late at night, wishing that you were ugly, thin and wore designer clothes that make you look more unattractive than you already are.
Fat can be of many types; slightly overweight is the same as obese which is the same as curvacious, but its all the same in the end, innit?
I just dont understand it. Why would someone want to dance with a girl who has 2 left feet and is stick-thin, when he can dance with someone who manages to move subtly but sensuously, and has a bit of a belly?
I'm not talking about myself here, thought this post does stem from personal experiences. Since you've all guessed by now, I don't get asked to dance much. And thus I have time to stand in the corner and observe. Guys only dance with girls who are "pretty", thin, and who wear revealing (or whats currently "in") type clothes.
Say theres a grossly overweight girl, who is pretty even though she's fat (pretty fat-teehee) and she's wearing something that nicely covers up her bulges, makes her figure looks somewhat streamlined and is a good dancer. Like she manages to move well without doing too much or trying to do things she shouldn't be doing at her size even if she can manage them. She's danced before with these men, they've even seen and appreciated the way she moves.. yet she has to ask them for a dance. Ofcourse they wont say no. And they'll enjoy the freakin' dance. But a little part of her dies.
I know it seems sexist to assume that the guy should ask the girl, but then again it is not a girls place to refuse a guy a dance. Basic manners state that a if a guy asks you to dance, you cannot refuse him the first time. The second time you can plead hurting feet or tired-ness. But the first time, you HAVE to dance. No matter if he's butt-ugly, unattractive, cannot dance, steps on your feet, has bad breath, is shorter than you. No matter that your feet are killing you in those stilettos or that you're dying for a drink or you're short of breath or you are just plain turned off by the sight of him. You HAVE to follow through with the first dance. It takes a lot of guts for a guy to walk across the room and ask a girl to dance, especially if he doesn't know her. Be nice to him and dance with him. Its only 3 minutes of your entire life.
But the whole problem lies in him asking you. What if he doesn't? Then what do you do? And on a dance floor(as it happens in many other areas(not counting birth records) there are always more girls than guys. Which means that the most of the guys will be dancing on the floor, with a "hot" skinny chick, while the slightly differently shaped girls stand around at the sides hoping for a dance. Catching a guy standing at the side is difficult enough; asking him to dance just kills you. slowly, but surely.
Especially in India, where even in a place like Bombay, a girl going up and asking a guy to dance elicits stares, sniggers and weird looks. "oh my god, she is so desperate/outgoing(they say that like its a bad thing)/slutty" I mean come on!
Despite all my ranting on this subject, the other day I went to a local salsa night and made sure that I sought out all the guys I like dancing with and asked them.
Out of the 12 guys I danced with that night, only 2 had asked me for a dance. The remaining, stood mildly in a corner while paid no heed to my crying ego, and gathered up the courage to go and ask them to dance. I had quite a blast that night. Danced with full abandon, enjoyed myself to bits; I'm sure the guys enjoyed themselves too (well, they didn't complain - :-|)
I got home later that night, opened the door to an over enthusiastic dog jumping on me, so glad to see me home and while sitting down on the bed and cuddling her, cried my heart out.
The facts still remain:
1. It still hurts, no matter what.
2. Society and other peoples stares will affect you
3. You will have a blast dancing and get bunions from the heels you're wearing.
and
4. A little part of you will die when you lie in your bed late at night, wishing that you were ugly, thin and wore designer clothes that make you look more unattractive than you already are.
Tuesday 15 May 2007
The Bhangra-Tango Chronicles – II
Yes this is the second installment. This deals with trying to teach tango to a couple, both actors, (and friends of my parents) heretofore referred to as Xchacha and Ymasi.
This particular couple had an anniversary coming up sometime ago, a 25th anniversary… Special no? So they booked a fancy-shmancy hotel in Goa and all the friends and family were supposed to fly down for the partay. I wasn’t planning to attend (personal reasons, I have a thing about going to Goa, a kind of deal I’ve made with myself and which probably only my mom knows about.)
The Parents, however, are enthu-cutlets as we all know, and they start getting ready for the trip by going on diets and working twice as hard to finish off obligations before they have to leave. So about 2 weeks before the main event, The Mother comes up with a brilliant plan.
We’re sitting around the dining table during dinner and Ymasi calls me to ask about something when she asks whether I’m coming to Goa or not. So I give her the excuse that I had worked out and she’s like, “ Awww we’ll miss you then, too bad you have the Salsa festival at the same time”
Me: “Yeaa, I knowww, you guys have a blast, though.”
As I put the phone down, The Mother gushes forth her brilliant plan.
“Baby, why don’t you teach Xchacha and Ymasi the tango to perform on their anniversary party?
My first thought is the Tango?! Who is she kidding? First she thought she and The Father could learn it, you know, because they’re my parents, common genes and all. (Actually they aint so bad, they keep forgetting the steps and have to be reminded, is all) “Umm, I dunno, aah, errr, hmmm, uhhuhh, they might not, you know, be keen or like this idea, you know. “ I say, blabbering incoherently, trying to make it clear that I don’t think this is a good idea, at the same time making it clear that it is ‘wow whatte plan, ma, how do you come up with this kinda brilliant stuff?’
I’m trying very hard not to grimace yet convey my disapproval of this idea when she bursts forth with: “It can be your present to them. And anyway you’re not coming, na, so they’ll fee like a part of you is there.”
Shite! Now what do I do? So I think about it, for a whole 2 minutes and then decide, its not such a bad idea after all, its beginning to sound nice, infact its quite a brilliant plan, ma.. (Yea, I finally admit it, mother!!) So, I SMS Ymasi immediately. I get an enthu reply – ‘sounds lovely, will ask X and let you know’
(Which basically means I will tell X that you better do this cause I so so so so want to and will tell you when we can start)
A couple of days later, I get an SMS saying – ‘Yes lets do it. X has agreed.’ So I try to fix up a day/time to go for the first class. But they’re very very busy finishing off work and organizing the parties so they don’t meet me till about 10 days before the actual event. (Ofcourse, they’re leaving 2 days before that, so that means I have about 8 days totally to plan/work out a routine choose a song and teach them the basics of tango which took me 2 months to learn. I say no problem, we can do this, we’ll manage something, hopefully the people watching will be a little blindsided by the fact that it’s their anniversary. I’m hoping that this, coupled with their fondness for Xchacha and Ymasi , will rose-tint their eyes enough to not know if they mess up (or atleast not care if they do). Plus I don’t think anyone over there will know what proper authentic Argentine Tango is, so its good na?
I’m pretty enthu about this idea myself by now, so I manage to choose a short (2 mins 15 seconds) song, which they’ve heard before (from the movie “Scent Of A Woman”) and work out a basic idea of the steps I have to teach them. So I land up at their house the next day, after long SMS convos with Ymasi about not being able to make it at 7:00 p.m. so can she come at 7:30 p.m.? <“Suuuure, its your funeral…I mean anniversary.”>
Xchacha is watching TV when I get there and we start off the first class with a slightly embarrassing and uncomfortable conversation about tango, the trip and cricket. He’s embarrassed because he thinks he cant dance (which is true to a certain extent, he has a delightfully caveman-like gait to his steps, but the rhythm is in place), I’m embarrassed because after all, he is a famous actor, and even though he’s known me since birth, I haven’t really interacted with him individually. Much.
So, we start off and we’re just doing the basic steps facing each other so he gets an idea of the dance. (This is where I notice the caveman quality and grin silently to myself.) Soon we’re done with all the learning we can do in solo mode (i.e. individually, without holding your partner) and we need to try out the steps together. He’s a little uncomfortable at first; the tango is after all a very sensual dance and needs to have some kind of relationship between the dancers to happen. But I’m like a surrogate daughter to him so its kinda weird. Not a problem, we somehow manage to clumsily go over the steps.
After another excruciatingly long half hour of this, we stop –
1. Because he’s tired and there’s only so much one can digest at a time.
2. Because the cricket match is about to begin.
Oh but before we stop, Z (the son, who is my chaddi buddy) and a friend of his (A), turn up, waiting for the match to begin and insist that we try dancing in front of them. (argh, public humiliation) So we half-heartedly do the steps. Ofcourse they clap and say polite things.
Then the match starts and the three men are glued to the TV. I’m just about to lose my mind from boredom and Ymasi turns up. Now there’s no space to dance, since the living room is occupied by three currently dimwitted, hulking, overgrown schoolboys watching a number of men in white uniforms with long sleeves and full pants running around with a block of wood and a tiny little ball on a huge, “grass (i.e. dirt filled; did I mention the white uniforms?)” field.
So we shift to Z’s bedroom, which has enough free space as there is in my bathroom. Now when I’m alone in the bathroom showering, it doesn’t seem so small, so I can try out my steps, but add one more person and there is not much you can do by way of dancing; other stuff – hell yea [:-P], dancing – hell no.
So we try to dance and do the basic steps and somehow manage. Ofcourse Ymasi picks up faster, being that she’s a woman and that she is quite a graceful dancer. And ofcourse, the Bollywood-cum-Classical Indian dance ka jhatka is quite visible (and expected). (I’m feeling a little better now that I see her dance, thinking ‘this might just work out somewhat the way I want it to’)
Soon Xchacha comes in to ask her something and she, all excited, pulls him into the room to practice, which they manage to do quite well. At the end of the day, I hand over the cd with the song chosen and get them to practice to it. As I leave, I make sure they’ve gotten the steps and extract the promise to practice faithfully till the next class, which is the next day.
When we meet again the next day, they’ve somewhat forgotten the basics, but we get back on track pretty fast. This time we shift to Z’s bedroom almost immediately, since the connection to the ipod is there. Practice goes surprisingly well. Them being actors, they know how to bluff their way through an uncomfortable situation. So, when they mess up, they strike a flamboyant pose together and laugh. And it actually looks nice, even though it’s not a part of traditional Argentine tango.
So we’re more or less going along with the song now but the timing is still a little off. The thing is, in that any other dance, there are even spaced beats and a certain count, which you can follow, so you can pick up at the beginning of the bar at any time during the music. Tango, on the other hand, has music that flows and runs and dips and dances all over the place so it’s kinda difficult to follow. Plus the beat, i.e. the tempo keeps changing. The song I’ve chosen, even though it has a chorus type part, which is at one speed and the stanzas at another, making it pretty simple (comparatively) to follow. But without a proper understanding of music and musicality, you can’t really do much. All I can to is tell them to listen to the cd a couple more times and maybe the music will get into them. * Sigh *
At the end of this class, I walk out feeling a little confident that they will manage to fool the others and do a basic type performance with enough style that covers up their mistakes.
The next day, when I call to fix up the class, they aren’t able to make it. The day after that, I fall sick. The day after that, they’re not at home. The day after that, I get a call saying Xchacha is veryvery sick and therefore they will not be able to do the tango at all but they will definitely learn more when they come back from the trip.
* SIIIIGGGGHHH * Just when I thought it was going so well…
It was easier teaching these two, as compared to the other family/friend class I had. It might have something to do with teaching them as a couple. Its always easier when you have to teach a lady to respond to only her partners leads rather than get her used to dancing with a variety of people; it develops a kind of comfort level between the couple. The same is true vice versa. Also, when you have been ‘dancing’ together for 25 years (in a manner of speaking) then the other kind of dancing comes naturally.[]
However, I think it was easier, mainly because I’m not as close and as friendly with them as I am with the other biddies. Also they’re a little more professional, being actors. I hope we do continue the classes; it would be nice to see them dance together. It always gives me a little frisson of delight when I see students of mine dancing nicely. It must be the same feeling as watching your child learn to walk, eh? And when it’s someone you’re close to, (or you become friends with) the delight is even more.
I’ll keep y’all posted, there is another “Biddy” class that happened that I must chronicle. I will, very soon, I promise.
(Puts on fake, deep, TV announcers voice) “I hope you enjoyed this segment of our show, see you next time, same place, same webpage. Till then, it’s your favourite blogger, Natasha, and she’s bidding you a verrrry good night”
* Walks away, grinning widely and waving and nodding to the audience *
This particular couple had an anniversary coming up sometime ago, a 25th anniversary… Special no? So they booked a fancy-shmancy hotel in Goa and all the friends and family were supposed to fly down for the partay. I wasn’t planning to attend (personal reasons, I have a thing about going to Goa, a kind of deal I’ve made with myself and which probably only my mom knows about.)
The Parents, however, are enthu-cutlets as we all know, and they start getting ready for the trip by going on diets and working twice as hard to finish off obligations before they have to leave. So about 2 weeks before the main event, The Mother comes up with a brilliant plan.
We’re sitting around the dining table during dinner and Ymasi calls me to ask about something when she asks whether I’m coming to Goa or not. So I give her the excuse that I had worked out and she’s like, “ Awww we’ll miss you then, too bad you have the Salsa festival at the same time”
Me: “Yeaa, I knowww, you guys have a blast, though.”
As I put the phone down, The Mother gushes forth her brilliant plan.
“Baby, why don’t you teach Xchacha and Ymasi the tango to perform on their anniversary party?
My first thought is the Tango?! Who is she kidding? First she thought she and The Father could learn it, you know, because they’re my parents, common genes and all. (Actually they aint so bad, they keep forgetting the steps and have to be reminded, is all) “Umm, I dunno, aah, errr, hmmm, uhhuhh, they might not, you know, be keen or like this idea, you know. “ I say, blabbering incoherently, trying to make it clear that I don’t think this is a good idea, at the same time making it clear that it is ‘wow whatte plan, ma, how do you come up with this kinda brilliant stuff?’
I’m trying very hard not to grimace yet convey my disapproval of this idea when she bursts forth with: “It can be your present to them. And anyway you’re not coming, na, so they’ll fee like a part of you is there.”
Shite! Now what do I do? So I think about it, for a whole 2 minutes and then decide, its not such a bad idea after all, its beginning to sound nice, infact its quite a brilliant plan, ma.. (Yea, I finally admit it, mother!!) So, I SMS Ymasi immediately. I get an enthu reply – ‘sounds lovely, will ask X and let you know’
(Which basically means I will tell X that you better do this cause I so so so so want to and will tell you when we can start)
A couple of days later, I get an SMS saying – ‘Yes lets do it. X has agreed.’ So I try to fix up a day/time to go for the first class. But they’re very very busy finishing off work and organizing the parties so they don’t meet me till about 10 days before the actual event. (Ofcourse, they’re leaving 2 days before that, so that means I have about 8 days totally to plan/work out a routine choose a song and teach them the basics of tango which took me 2 months to learn. I say no problem, we can do this, we’ll manage something, hopefully the people watching will be a little blindsided by the fact that it’s their anniversary. I’m hoping that this, coupled with their fondness for Xchacha and Ymasi , will rose-tint their eyes enough to not know if they mess up (or atleast not care if they do). Plus I don’t think anyone over there will know what proper authentic Argentine Tango is, so its good na?
I’m pretty enthu about this idea myself by now, so I manage to choose a short (2 mins 15 seconds) song, which they’ve heard before (from the movie “Scent Of A Woman”) and work out a basic idea of the steps I have to teach them. So I land up at their house the next day, after long SMS convos with Ymasi about not being able to make it at 7:00 p.m. so can she come at 7:30 p.m.? <“Suuuure, its your funeral…I mean anniversary.”>
Xchacha is watching TV when I get there and we start off the first class with a slightly embarrassing and uncomfortable conversation about tango, the trip and cricket. He’s embarrassed because he thinks he cant dance (which is true to a certain extent, he has a delightfully caveman-like gait to his steps, but the rhythm is in place), I’m embarrassed because after all, he is a famous actor, and even though he’s known me since birth, I haven’t really interacted with him individually. Much.
So, we start off and we’re just doing the basic steps facing each other so he gets an idea of the dance. (This is where I notice the caveman quality and grin silently to myself.) Soon we’re done with all the learning we can do in solo mode (i.e. individually, without holding your partner) and we need to try out the steps together. He’s a little uncomfortable at first; the tango is after all a very sensual dance and needs to have some kind of relationship between the dancers to happen. But I’m like a surrogate daughter to him so its kinda weird. Not a problem, we somehow manage to clumsily go over the steps.
After another excruciatingly long half hour of this, we stop –
1. Because he’s tired and there’s only so much one can digest at a time.
2. Because the cricket match is about to begin.
Oh but before we stop, Z (the son, who is my chaddi buddy) and a friend of his (A), turn up, waiting for the match to begin and insist that we try dancing in front of them. (argh, public humiliation) So we half-heartedly do the steps. Ofcourse they clap and say polite things.
Then the match starts and the three men are glued to the TV. I’m just about to lose my mind from boredom and Ymasi turns up. Now there’s no space to dance, since the living room is occupied by three currently dimwitted, hulking, overgrown schoolboys watching a number of men in white uniforms with long sleeves and full pants running around with a block of wood and a tiny little ball on a huge, “grass (i.e. dirt filled; did I mention the white uniforms?)” field.
So we shift to Z’s bedroom, which has enough free space as there is in my bathroom. Now when I’m alone in the bathroom showering, it doesn’t seem so small, so I can try out my steps, but add one more person and there is not much you can do by way of dancing; other stuff – hell yea [:-P], dancing – hell no.
So we try to dance and do the basic steps and somehow manage. Ofcourse Ymasi picks up faster, being that she’s a woman and that she is quite a graceful dancer. And ofcourse, the Bollywood-cum-Classical Indian dance ka jhatka is quite visible (and expected). (I’m feeling a little better now that I see her dance, thinking ‘this might just work out somewhat the way I want it to’)
Soon Xchacha comes in to ask her something and she, all excited, pulls him into the room to practice, which they manage to do quite well. At the end of the day, I hand over the cd with the song chosen and get them to practice to it. As I leave, I make sure they’ve gotten the steps and extract the promise to practice faithfully till the next class, which is the next day.
When we meet again the next day, they’ve somewhat forgotten the basics, but we get back on track pretty fast. This time we shift to Z’s bedroom almost immediately, since the connection to the ipod is there. Practice goes surprisingly well. Them being actors, they know how to bluff their way through an uncomfortable situation. So, when they mess up, they strike a flamboyant pose together and laugh. And it actually looks nice, even though it’s not a part of traditional Argentine tango.
So we’re more or less going along with the song now but the timing is still a little off. The thing is, in that any other dance, there are even spaced beats and a certain count, which you can follow, so you can pick up at the beginning of the bar at any time during the music. Tango, on the other hand, has music that flows and runs and dips and dances all over the place so it’s kinda difficult to follow. Plus the beat, i.e. the tempo keeps changing. The song I’ve chosen, even though it has a chorus type part, which is at one speed and the stanzas at another, making it pretty simple (comparatively) to follow. But without a proper understanding of music and musicality, you can’t really do much. All I can to is tell them to listen to the cd a couple more times and maybe the music will get into them. * Sigh *
At the end of this class, I walk out feeling a little confident that they will manage to fool the others and do a basic type performance with enough style that covers up their mistakes.
The next day, when I call to fix up the class, they aren’t able to make it. The day after that, I fall sick. The day after that, they’re not at home. The day after that, I get a call saying Xchacha is veryvery sick and therefore they will not be able to do the tango at all but they will definitely learn more when they come back from the trip.
* SIIIIGGGGHHH * Just when I thought it was going so well…
It was easier teaching these two, as compared to the other family/friend class I had. It might have something to do with teaching them as a couple. Its always easier when you have to teach a lady to respond to only her partners leads rather than get her used to dancing with a variety of people; it develops a kind of comfort level between the couple. The same is true vice versa. Also, when you have been ‘dancing’ together for 25 years (in a manner of speaking) then the other kind of dancing comes naturally.[]
However, I think it was easier, mainly because I’m not as close and as friendly with them as I am with the other biddies. Also they’re a little more professional, being actors. I hope we do continue the classes; it would be nice to see them dance together. It always gives me a little frisson of delight when I see students of mine dancing nicely. It must be the same feeling as watching your child learn to walk, eh? And when it’s someone you’re close to, (or you become friends with) the delight is even more.
I’ll keep y’all posted, there is another “Biddy” class that happened that I must chronicle. I will, very soon, I promise.
(Puts on fake, deep, TV announcers voice) “I hope you enjoyed this segment of our show, see you next time, same place, same webpage. Till then, it’s your favourite blogger, Natasha, and she’s bidding you a verrrry good night”
* Walks away, grinning widely and waving and nodding to the audience *
Saturday 21 April 2007
The Ranting Room
In my dream house, I have a soundproof room which has one padded wall which I can bang my head against when I'm angry.
It also has a lot of old furniture, made out of different kinds of woods, (some that break easily and others that dont) that I can throw around and stamp on.
It has a soft comfy bed, lots of fatty things to eat, a HUMONGOUS box of tissues, and tons of squashy pillows that I lay against and cry my heart out.
It has sheaves of paper and pen that I can scribble on and a big waste paper basket to throw my work in after I'm done ranting.
It has a huge fireplace in the middle so I can burn things to my hearts content and let out the pyromaniac in me to roast..err...i mean roost.
It has a bevy of excercise machines so that by working out I can let out my anger/frustration AND become thin and sexy.
It DEFINITELY has a computer with a fast internet speed and tons of space to store music, so that I can play it at full blast while ranting on my blog or to my friends.
Some days are beautiful. But there come some days in a persons life when they want a room like this one to let out their anger and disappointment at life.
It also has a lot of old furniture, made out of different kinds of woods, (some that break easily and others that dont) that I can throw around and stamp on.
It has a soft comfy bed, lots of fatty things to eat, a HUMONGOUS box of tissues, and tons of squashy pillows that I lay against and cry my heart out.
It has sheaves of paper and pen that I can scribble on and a big waste paper basket to throw my work in after I'm done ranting.
It has a huge fireplace in the middle so I can burn things to my hearts content and let out the pyromaniac in me to roast..err...i mean roost.
It has a bevy of excercise machines so that by working out I can let out my anger/frustration AND become thin and sexy.
It DEFINITELY has a computer with a fast internet speed and tons of space to store music, so that I can play it at full blast while ranting on my blog or to my friends.
Some days are beautiful. But there come some days in a persons life when they want a room like this one to let out their anger and disappointment at life.
Sunday 25 March 2007
Pretty Lyrics
These are the lyrics from a bunch of songs that I really like the tune and lyrics of. I'll try and get translations for the non-English ones and edit it in later.
*
Stones taught me to fly, Love taught me to lie, Life taught me to die, So its not hard to fall, When you float like a cannonball.
Cannonball - Damien Rice (The L Word soundtrack)
*
Ya vas a ver como van sanando, Poco a poco tus heridas, Ya vas a ver como va, La misma vida decantar la sal que sobra en mar...
Dia De Enero - Shakira
*
I cant do the talk like the talk on tv, But I can do a love song like the way its meant to be, I cant do everything but I'd do anything for you, Cant do anything except be in love with you, And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be, All I do is keep the beat and bad company, All I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme, (Julie)________, I'd do the stars with you, anytime.
Romeo And Juliet - Dire Straits
*
Y yo estoy aquí, borracho y loco, y mi corazón idiota siempre brillara, y yo te amare, te amare por siempre.
Lamento Boliviano (Bachata Remix)
*
Youve already won me over in spite of me
Dont be alarmed if I fall head over feet
Dont be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldnt help it
Its all your fault.
Head Over Feet - Alanis Morissette
*
Hay mi amor perdido dónde estarás
No puedo aguantar esta soledad
Qué será que de mi vida
Qué será si tú no estas amor
Día a día voy perdiendo el control
Tú no sabes cómo duele tu adiós
Tengo herida el alma y el corazón
Porque tú no estás.
Mi Amor Perdido - Andy Aguilera feat. Divino
*
Hoy recuerdo la niña aquella la que pasaba todas las materias
La que mitad de quinto se fue y nunca mas volvio
Yo te veo y no me lo creo mira que bien te ha tratado el tiempo
Y al mirate me dan deseos de hacerte reina de mi reino
Te ves perfecta me ha dejado alusionado tu belleza
Tu corazon no tiene dueño no me mientas no me quieras causar esa tristeza
Princesa dime si aun quieres ser mi reina
Princesa - Frank Reyes
*
And know that if I knew
All of the answers I would
Not hold them from you
Know all of the things that i'd know
We told each other, there is no other way
No Other Way - Jack Johnson
*
When the whole world fits inside of your arms
Don't really need to pay attention to the alarm
Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson
*
I'd have sworn
That with time
Thoughts of you
Would leave my head
I was wrong
And I find
Just one thing
Makes me forget
Red, red wine
Stay close to me
Dont let me be alone
Its tearing apart
My blue, blue heart
Red, Red Wine - Neil Diamond
*
Tere Khayaalon Mein Uljha Rahi Yoon Jaise Ki Maala Mein Dhaaga
Phoolon Ke Rang Se - Kishore Kumar(I think)
*
Missed the Saturday dance
Heard they crowded the floor
Couldn't bear it without you
Don't get around much anymore
Don't Get Around Much Anymore - Nat King Cole
*
Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, men have named you
Youre so like the lady with the mystic smile
Is it only cause youre lonely they have blamed you?
For that Mona Lisa strangeness in your smile?
Do you smile to tempt a lover, Mona Lisa?
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep
They just lie there and they die there
Are you warm, are you real, Mona Lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art?
Mona Lisa - Nat King Cole
*
Stones taught me to fly, Love taught me to lie, Life taught me to die, So its not hard to fall, When you float like a cannonball.
Cannonball - Damien Rice (The L Word soundtrack)
*
Ya vas a ver como van sanando, Poco a poco tus heridas, Ya vas a ver como va, La misma vida decantar la sal que sobra en mar...
Dia De Enero - Shakira
*
I cant do the talk like the talk on tv, But I can do a love song like the way its meant to be, I cant do everything but I'd do anything for you, Cant do anything except be in love with you, And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be, All I do is keep the beat and bad company, All I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme, (Julie)________, I'd do the stars with you, anytime.
Romeo And Juliet - Dire Straits
*
Y yo estoy aquí, borracho y loco, y mi corazón idiota siempre brillara, y yo te amare, te amare por siempre.
Lamento Boliviano (Bachata Remix)
*
Youve already won me over in spite of me
Dont be alarmed if I fall head over feet
Dont be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldnt help it
Its all your fault.
Head Over Feet - Alanis Morissette
*
Hay mi amor perdido dónde estarás
No puedo aguantar esta soledad
Qué será que de mi vida
Qué será si tú no estas amor
Día a día voy perdiendo el control
Tú no sabes cómo duele tu adiós
Tengo herida el alma y el corazón
Porque tú no estás.
Mi Amor Perdido - Andy Aguilera feat. Divino
*
Hoy recuerdo la niña aquella la que pasaba todas las materias
La que mitad de quinto se fue y nunca mas volvio
Yo te veo y no me lo creo mira que bien te ha tratado el tiempo
Y al mirate me dan deseos de hacerte reina de mi reino
Te ves perfecta me ha dejado alusionado tu belleza
Tu corazon no tiene dueño no me mientas no me quieras causar esa tristeza
Princesa dime si aun quieres ser mi reina
Princesa - Frank Reyes
*
And know that if I knew
All of the answers I would
Not hold them from you
Know all of the things that i'd know
We told each other, there is no other way
No Other Way - Jack Johnson
*
When the whole world fits inside of your arms
Don't really need to pay attention to the alarm
Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson
*
I'd have sworn
That with time
Thoughts of you
Would leave my head
I was wrong
And I find
Just one thing
Makes me forget
Red, red wine
Stay close to me
Dont let me be alone
Its tearing apart
My blue, blue heart
Red, Red Wine - Neil Diamond
*
Tere Khayaalon Mein Uljha Rahi Yoon Jaise Ki Maala Mein Dhaaga
Phoolon Ke Rang Se - Kishore Kumar(I think)
*
Missed the Saturday dance
Heard they crowded the floor
Couldn't bear it without you
Don't get around much anymore
Don't Get Around Much Anymore - Nat King Cole
*
Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, men have named you
Youre so like the lady with the mystic smile
Is it only cause youre lonely they have blamed you?
For that Mona Lisa strangeness in your smile?
Do you smile to tempt a lover, Mona Lisa?
Or is this your way to hide a broken heart?
Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep
They just lie there and they die there
Are you warm, are you real, Mona Lisa?
Or just a cold and lonely lovely work of art?
Mona Lisa - Nat King Cole
Monday 12 March 2007
The Tag Game
Damn. I'm so bad at these. Anyhoo.
Three things that scare me:
1. Snakes
2. The dark
3. Horror movies
Three people who make me laugh.
1. The Mother
2. The Bratty Sister.
3. The Ben
Three things i love:
1. Dancing
2. Painting
3. Talking
Three things i hate:
1. Brinjals
2. My looks
3. My voice
Three things i dont understand:
1. Cricket
2. Boys/Men
3. Computers
Three things i'm doing right now:
1. Filling up this silly thing
2. Singing along with Jack Johnson
3. Yawning. (Sleep is came)
Three things I want to do before i die:
1. Visit Cuba (samba/rumba), Argentina (tango), France (food/art), Venice (architecture), Italy (men/wine/food), Puerto Rico (Salsa), Chennai (my 'B' boys), Calcutta (my Rimi-girl)
2. Write a novel (or 2 or 3..)
3. Sing in front of a huge crowd and get a standing ovation (but no one will ever let me. Sing, that is.)
Three things i can do:
1. Dance (latin american style)
2. Paint (abstracts/motifs/murals)
3. Cook (throw random things into a pan and produce something edible)
Three things you should listen to:
1. Jazz and Blues
2. My advice
3. Your primary group. Seriously. They affect you more than you will ever know.
Three things you should never listen to:
1. Heavy Metal/Grunge/Trance
2. Fashion advising type people thingies. Basically people who tell you what you should be waering 'this' season just cause its the 'in' thing to do. Twits.
3. Me singing
Three things i'd like to learn:
1. Guitar/saxophone/drums/jazz piano
2. Standard Ballroom dances (waltz/foxtrot/quickstep/etc)
3. How to sing such that people dont run away from you when you open your mouth and belt it out.
Three TVshows/books i watched/read as a kid:
I read too much. I'm gonna make this authors.
1. Roald Dahl
2. Enid Blyton
3. Ogden Nash
Three people i'd like to tag:
Do i have to? I dont think anyone i know would actually sit and fill all this out. No one i know is as unemployed as me.
Three things that scare me:
1. Snakes
2. The dark
3. Horror movies
Three people who make me laugh.
1. The Mother
2. The Bratty Sister.
3. The Ben
Three things i love:
1. Dancing
2. Painting
3. Talking
Three things i hate:
1. Brinjals
2. My looks
3. My voice
Three things i dont understand:
1. Cricket
2. Boys/Men
3. Computers
Three things i'm doing right now:
1. Filling up this silly thing
2. Singing along with Jack Johnson
3. Yawning. (Sleep is came)
Three things I want to do before i die:
1. Visit Cuba (samba/rumba), Argentina (tango), France (food/art), Venice (architecture), Italy (men/wine/food), Puerto Rico (Salsa), Chennai (my 'B' boys), Calcutta (my Rimi-girl)
2. Write a novel (or 2 or 3..)
3. Sing in front of a huge crowd and get a standing ovation (but no one will ever let me. Sing, that is.)
Three things i can do:
1. Dance (latin american style)
2. Paint (abstracts/motifs/murals)
3. Cook (throw random things into a pan and produce something edible)
Three things you should listen to:
1. Jazz and Blues
2. My advice
3. Your primary group. Seriously. They affect you more than you will ever know.
Three things you should never listen to:
1. Heavy Metal/Grunge/Trance
2. Fashion advising type people thingies. Basically people who tell you what you should be waering 'this' season just cause its the 'in' thing to do. Twits.
3. Me singing
Three things i'd like to learn:
1. Guitar/saxophone/drums/jazz piano
2. Standard Ballroom dances (waltz/foxtrot/quickstep/etc)
3. How to sing such that people dont run away from you when you open your mouth and belt it out.
Three TVshows/books i watched/read as a kid:
I read too much. I'm gonna make this authors.
1. Roald Dahl
2. Enid Blyton
3. Ogden Nash
Three people i'd like to tag:
Do i have to? I dont think anyone i know would actually sit and fill all this out. No one i know is as unemployed as me.
Unfortunately, Me
What would i give for bee-stung lips and tear-filled doe eyes.
a save-me look and a miniscule size
of dress hanging in my cupboard, along with others
just as pretty. and for some brothers
who'd beat up a boy for me, and punch
him across the face. a bunch
of lovely flowers and some elegant, tiny earrings,
long fingers and silver rings,
that adorn and enhance their beauty, a shape
thats slim and sexy, a nape
thats beatifully curved, tiny perky breasts
and a pendant that nests,
amongst them like it belongs, a voice that's clear
and that all want to hear,
lovely long wavy tresses, smooth and silky,
and skin thats pale and milky
slender ankles with slim golden chains,
frail wrists and the main
thing is, i'd rather that, a man would sit and stare
at me, and maybe dare,
to ask me out, fervently hoping that i would agree.
But unfortunately, thats just not me.
I slip, i trip, i fall down and do stupid things,
I cannot sing
a true-blue note, i'm extremely wide-hipped,
and unfairly thin-lipped
and i chew those damn nails, and my eyes,
are small and beady, guys
dont ever want to lift my bags or hold my books,
I never get lingering looks,
unless they're directed at my "weird" fashion sense,
long earrings and my size ten,
skirts that cling to each and every curve, the staring
of men at my shirts, baring
and exposing my ample chest, the graceless walk
and the incessant talk.
the short stubby fingers, a nose thats uneven
tangled messy hair, my heathen
-like demeanor, my wide strong capable shoulders,
which should be lifting boulders,
a hearty shrug, a wicked grin, salsa-thighs
that wobble and a size
that isnt 'conducive to dancing'. i'm plain, as plain as could be.
That, unfortunately, is definitely me.
a save-me look and a miniscule size
of dress hanging in my cupboard, along with others
just as pretty. and for some brothers
who'd beat up a boy for me, and punch
him across the face. a bunch
of lovely flowers and some elegant, tiny earrings,
long fingers and silver rings,
that adorn and enhance their beauty, a shape
thats slim and sexy, a nape
thats beatifully curved, tiny perky breasts
and a pendant that nests,
amongst them like it belongs, a voice that's clear
and that all want to hear,
lovely long wavy tresses, smooth and silky,
and skin thats pale and milky
slender ankles with slim golden chains,
frail wrists and the main
thing is, i'd rather that, a man would sit and stare
at me, and maybe dare,
to ask me out, fervently hoping that i would agree.
But unfortunately, thats just not me.
I slip, i trip, i fall down and do stupid things,
I cannot sing
a true-blue note, i'm extremely wide-hipped,
and unfairly thin-lipped
and i chew those damn nails, and my eyes,
are small and beady, guys
dont ever want to lift my bags or hold my books,
I never get lingering looks,
unless they're directed at my "weird" fashion sense,
long earrings and my size ten,
skirts that cling to each and every curve, the staring
of men at my shirts, baring
and exposing my ample chest, the graceless walk
and the incessant talk.
the short stubby fingers, a nose thats uneven
tangled messy hair, my heathen
-like demeanor, my wide strong capable shoulders,
which should be lifting boulders,
a hearty shrug, a wicked grin, salsa-thighs
that wobble and a size
that isnt 'conducive to dancing'. i'm plain, as plain as could be.
That, unfortunately, is definitely me.
Saturday 10 March 2007
The Bhangra-Tango Chronicles
This is the first in the series(hopefully, there will be a series)
The reason for this post:
Ever since i started dancing, (learning/teaching), The Mother and her bunch of friends (here forth called the 'Abacus Biddies', but that's another story) decided that they also want to learn to salsa. Salsa, mind you. Salsa. Fast, spinning type dance. Biddies + Salsa = Broken bones = Hospital bills and Bed rest = monetary trouble for Old fogey husband men and mommy sitting duties for dutiful daughters/sons (collectively known as the AB babies, no connection to the Bachchans whatsoever).
So, after a lot of procrastinating and persuading them to start with a slower dance like the rumba or with a dance like the cha-cha which is danced to songs that they would appreciate, i.e. music which is a part of their generation. But no, NOW they want to learn the tango. The Argentine Tango, no less. Which, like Pierre Dulaine (played by Antonio Banderas in the movie 'Take The lead') says, 'needs to be earned'. Heck, I didn't have the guts to learn it until i finished almost 2 years of dancing.
So, one day, The Mother and The Father are both at home one evening (which is a rare occurrence) and they started harassing me to teach them the tango. So, bracing myself, muttering curses under my breath and platitudes to Terpsichore to save me from These Two, I reluctantly agree.
Shift the furniture around, put the dog out into the balcony and close the door(she is very jumpy and tends to dance along with you) and put on some music.
I explain the basic 8 steps, and The Mother interrupts with a "I don't get it". To which i reply, "Ma, can I please finish my sentence?"
They dutifully follow my movements and directions for the next 2 minutes, then The Father asks me whether he needs to place his foot where he is currently placing it or a centimetre to the right. The tango is precise, my friends, but not THAT precise.
After they practise a bit more, I explain some more to them(not going into the details here, not worth my time and your lack of attention/interest), and The Mother goes, "See if you explain it this way, then I understand. Say it like this"
Who is the teacher here?! She doesn't even know the 'T' of tango!
I tell you, these parents!
BUT this is not the worst bit. And this is just the much-needed background for my topic.
The next day, The Mother, during one of her interminably long phone conversations, proudly announces to one of The Biddies, "Yesterday, my daughter taught me tango"
"Yea of course she'll teach you also"
"Why don't you and D and R and S(various other Biddies) come over on such-and-such day at such-and-such time....(to me: "baby, you don't have class then na?" i shake my head).. haan, she's free."
:O (In my head: HELP! MOTHER, WHAT IN HEAVENS NAME ARE YOU GETTING ME INTO NOW?)
so she looks elsewhere and keeps talking.
Darn it.
I manage to convince her and them, along the line, somewhere that it would be much better to start with a dance like the rumba.
D-day arrives and I come home to find a gaggle of middle aged women in my living room along The Sister(who claims to have two left feet and hates dancing) and one of the AB babies, P, who I know for a fact, cannot dance.
So, all professional, I go and put on my shoes and start setting up the music.
The Mother: "Baby, we're all very hungry, why don't you order bhel for us from around the corner?"
After half an hour, when all the plates have been put away and people are fed-up and full-filled (;)), I say, "Shall we sta..."
only to be interrupted by Biddy N: " haha, I'm so full now, I cant even move"
Me: "umm...."
Others: " yea OK, come on, lets get up"
So we start doing the basic step and everybody is going out of time. I say follow my counts "one, two, three, four", but nobody follows except for Miss Two-Left-Feet (The Sister) and The Mother who has had a secret private class in the rumba before.
Every time someone messes up, they all stop and giggle, P abuses and shakes his head, The Sister stays mum. And I try to restore order, without much success.
NO ONE follows my count, or the timing of the music. The Biddies have a Bollywood jhatka way of moving their hips, P moves like a caveman and The Sister is the only one who seems to show some semblance of the Latin hip movement required for the rumba. *SIGH*
I've been teaching the rumba for 1.5 years, I've taught old and young alike, I've taught people who cannot move and people who you have to only demonstrate a move for and they copy it perfectly, I've taught one-on-one and a class of 30, BUT I've never had so much problem as I did with this bunch.
Honestly, the only saving grace was The Sister, who listened to every word I said and managed to execute the steps well. This from a girl who doesn't like dancing, and who claims not to be able to dance! Sheesh.
Later that night, i tried to figure out why this was so difficult and I realised that, these women, can never look at me as being "superior" to them in any respect. They cannot see me as their 'teacher'; for them I will always be a child in their eyes, especially since I am, in effect, their (this refers to ALL of them) child.
Thus they could not give me the respect they would give a teacher/professor type of person.
I'm not saying that they're incapable of it, just that they didn't
then.You never know, tomorrow is another day and I might just have a better class with them sometime in the near future(hopefully).
*Keeping fingers crossed*
That's all for now, I shall keep y'all updated as and when the next class happens. Over and Out.
The reason for this post:
Ever since i started dancing, (learning/teaching), The Mother and her bunch of friends (here forth called the 'Abacus Biddies', but that's another story) decided that they also want to learn to salsa. Salsa, mind you. Salsa. Fast, spinning type dance. Biddies + Salsa = Broken bones = Hospital bills and Bed rest = monetary trouble for Old fogey husband men and mommy sitting duties for dutiful daughters/sons (collectively known as the AB babies, no connection to the Bachchans whatsoever).
So, after a lot of procrastinating and persuading them to start with a slower dance like the rumba or with a dance like the cha-cha which is danced to songs that they would appreciate, i.e. music which is a part of their generation. But no, NOW they want to learn the tango. The Argentine Tango, no less. Which, like Pierre Dulaine (played by Antonio Banderas in the movie 'Take The lead') says, 'needs to be earned'. Heck, I didn't have the guts to learn it until i finished almost 2 years of dancing.
So, one day, The Mother and The Father are both at home one evening (which is a rare occurrence) and they started harassing me to teach them the tango. So, bracing myself, muttering curses under my breath and platitudes to Terpsichore to save me from These Two, I reluctantly agree.
Shift the furniture around, put the dog out into the balcony and close the door(she is very jumpy and tends to dance along with you) and put on some music.
I explain the basic 8 steps, and The Mother interrupts with a "I don't get it". To which i reply, "Ma, can I please finish my sentence?"
They dutifully follow my movements and directions for the next 2 minutes, then The Father asks me whether he needs to place his foot where he is currently placing it or a centimetre to the right. The tango is precise, my friends, but not THAT precise.
After they practise a bit more, I explain some more to them(not going into the details here, not worth my time and your lack of attention/interest), and The Mother goes, "See if you explain it this way, then I understand. Say it like this"
Who is the teacher here?! She doesn't even know the 'T' of tango!
I tell you, these parents!
BUT this is not the worst bit. And this is just the much-needed background for my topic.
The next day, The Mother, during one of her interminably long phone conversations, proudly announces to one of The Biddies, "Yesterday, my daughter taught me tango"
"Yea of course she'll teach you also"
"Why don't you and D and R and S(various other Biddies) come over on such-and-such day at such-and-such time....(to me: "baby, you don't have class then na?" i shake my head).. haan, she's free."
:O (In my head: HELP! MOTHER, WHAT IN HEAVENS NAME ARE YOU GETTING ME INTO NOW?)
so she looks elsewhere and keeps talking.
Darn it.
I manage to convince her and them, along the line, somewhere that it would be much better to start with a dance like the rumba.
D-day arrives and I come home to find a gaggle of middle aged women in my living room along The Sister(who claims to have two left feet and hates dancing) and one of the AB babies, P, who I know for a fact, cannot dance.
So, all professional, I go and put on my shoes and start setting up the music.
The Mother: "Baby, we're all very hungry, why don't you order bhel for us from around the corner?"
After half an hour, when all the plates have been put away and people are fed-up and full-filled (;)), I say, "Shall we sta..."
only to be interrupted by Biddy N: " haha, I'm so full now, I cant even move"
Me: "umm...."
Others: " yea OK, come on, lets get up"
So we start doing the basic step and everybody is going out of time. I say follow my counts "one, two, three, four", but nobody follows except for Miss Two-Left-Feet (The Sister) and The Mother who has had a secret private class in the rumba before.
Every time someone messes up, they all stop and giggle, P abuses and shakes his head, The Sister stays mum. And I try to restore order, without much success.
NO ONE follows my count, or the timing of the music. The Biddies have a Bollywood jhatka way of moving their hips, P moves like a caveman and The Sister is the only one who seems to show some semblance of the Latin hip movement required for the rumba. *SIGH*
I've been teaching the rumba for 1.5 years, I've taught old and young alike, I've taught people who cannot move and people who you have to only demonstrate a move for and they copy it perfectly, I've taught one-on-one and a class of 30, BUT I've never had so much problem as I did with this bunch.
Honestly, the only saving grace was The Sister, who listened to every word I said and managed to execute the steps well. This from a girl who doesn't like dancing, and who claims not to be able to dance! Sheesh.
Later that night, i tried to figure out why this was so difficult and I realised that, these women, can never look at me as being "superior" to them in any respect. They cannot see me as their 'teacher'; for them I will always be a child in their eyes, especially since I am, in effect, their (this refers to ALL of them) child.
Thus they could not give me the respect they would give a teacher/professor type of person.
I'm not saying that they're incapable of it, just that they didn't
then.You never know, tomorrow is another day and I might just have a better class with them sometime in the near future(hopefully).
*Keeping fingers crossed*
That's all for now, I shall keep y'all updated as and when the next class happens. Over and Out.
Tuesday 20 February 2007
The Good Side of Feminism
for once i was up early this morning, fresh, bathed, clean, slightly damp and veryveryveryvery tired.
Sitting at the dining table with the mother and she decides to read out a poem, at which proclamation, i usually groan inwardly and switch off the brain. this time i decided not to. glad i didnt.
she was reading a book of poems by Maya Angelou, who is quite an amazing writer, btw. so she read this one out.. and i wanted to share it with the world (even though nobody reads my blog regularly, yet)
Phenomenal Woman -- Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when i start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
Its the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they cant touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I dont shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
(i like to think i'm that confident.....)
Sitting at the dining table with the mother and she decides to read out a poem, at which proclamation, i usually groan inwardly and switch off the brain. this time i decided not to. glad i didnt.
she was reading a book of poems by Maya Angelou, who is quite an amazing writer, btw. so she read this one out.. and i wanted to share it with the world (even though nobody reads my blog regularly, yet)
Phenomenal Woman -- Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when i start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
Its the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they cant touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I dont shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
(i like to think i'm that confident.....)
Music and its Moods
I used to think there was a song for every feeling in the world.. everytime i am strongly under the influence of an emotion i find a song that suits my mood.
somehow, i cant find a song that i can identify with at the moment. Is it because i dont listen to a particular genre? Or is it that there isnt a song written yet for this kinda mood? Or is it that maybe i am meant to write the song for this mood? (but the words wont come, i tried)
wah!
somehow, i cant find a song that i can identify with at the moment. Is it because i dont listen to a particular genre? Or is it that there isnt a song written yet for this kinda mood? Or is it that maybe i am meant to write the song for this mood? (but the words wont come, i tried)
wah!
Monday 5 February 2007
Buddy Guy *sigh*
so i went for the Buddy Guy concert! :D
C got me tickets to the concert, which was organised by the One Tree Music festival.. and i totally had to go..
My aunt's come down from New York, and she's quite a partay annimull, so i decided to take her along.. so about 5 of us ended up going there together.. and oh mah gawd!
OHHH MAAAH GAAAWWD!!
i know this sounds kinda crazy but he's brilliant that man, i could fall in love with him.. really.
before the concert there were a bunch of singers from bombay who just got onto the stage and performed a bit.. really good stuff.. there was this acapella band called Conchorde who were absofuckinglutely brilliant. http://smileyourbluesaway.blogspot.com/2006/08/best-bathroom-singers-youve-ever-heard.html
how can you not like these boys?
apparently they aint together no more, what a shame! :(
i'd love to get my hands on some of their music...
getting back to Buddy Guy, i'd only heard a few songs by him, and i liked them but i'd been in a Michael Buble mood for a very long while and i hadnt heard his (BG's) songs too often..
so i was with C buying a bottle of water and when we heard them start the concert, i almost ran toward the stage, luckily we'd reached a bit early and found a place somewhere in front, so we got there and i put my stuff down, he started singing, strumming and i was a goner.. just stood there and swayed and 'wiggled my butt' and had a blast..
dressed in a simple khaki shirt and pants with this cute little hat on his head (i think its called a fedora, without the feather) and this pale yellow guitar, he just moved his fingers and mouth in such a way that i'm sure got the ladies (and gentlemen) in the audience feeling the same way a female rock fan feels, just before she takes off her underwear and flings it on stage.
he's probably around 60 but man that guys got a powerful voice, he could be heard over the electronics even when he whispered, geeez and what clarity! most singers, even if theyre that talented, mumble into the mike. and whatttta performer, crowd pleaser, babeh..
there was this ramp going up sideways the front of the stage and at one point he walked down in and came into the crowd and walked through, happily playing his guitar all along and singing.. then he went back otward the stage and ran up the ramp..
then walter trout came out and they performed together and there was this other guy on the keyboard who was brill-fuckin'-iant and another fellow on the guitar who was amazing..
there was a point when the three of them were just jamming together, walter trout, BG and the keyboardist and i just closed my eyes and let my body sway to the music until the lady behind me, who was this 'larger than average' woman in a horrible black and white lycra tshirt clinging to her 'curves' and shaking her thang, started singing on the top of her voice.. and that killed the mood for me..
at the end of the concert he came and threw a few of his picks into the crowd and i've never seen people jump like that to get them... then out came the famous polka dotted guitar and 'Mustang Sally', baby... which has got to be the sexiest song in the world, whatta hip-thrusting beat!
i loved loved loved loved being there, and to think that i was going to leave early and go dancing at Bohemia which i do almost every weekend, jeeeeez (silly Nat)
inspite of fat singing lady and other idiots who thought they could sing along with the man, and the whole crowd thing, whatta concert...
THIS was real singing, a real performance, a real live kick ass concert...
and worth way waay waaay more than the six hundred bucks it cost.
(oh for all you BG fans, my friend has taken a video of a part of the concert and i shall post the link here as soon as i can)
C got me tickets to the concert, which was organised by the One Tree Music festival.. and i totally had to go..
My aunt's come down from New York, and she's quite a partay annimull, so i decided to take her along.. so about 5 of us ended up going there together.. and oh mah gawd!
OHHH MAAAH GAAAWWD!!
i know this sounds kinda crazy but he's brilliant that man, i could fall in love with him.. really.
before the concert there were a bunch of singers from bombay who just got onto the stage and performed a bit.. really good stuff.. there was this acapella band called Conchorde who were absofuckinglutely brilliant. http://smileyourbluesaway.blogspot.com/2006/08/best-bathroom-singers-youve-ever-heard.html
how can you not like these boys?
apparently they aint together no more, what a shame! :(
i'd love to get my hands on some of their music...
getting back to Buddy Guy, i'd only heard a few songs by him, and i liked them but i'd been in a Michael Buble mood for a very long while and i hadnt heard his (BG's) songs too often..
so i was with C buying a bottle of water and when we heard them start the concert, i almost ran toward the stage, luckily we'd reached a bit early and found a place somewhere in front, so we got there and i put my stuff down, he started singing, strumming and i was a goner.. just stood there and swayed and 'wiggled my butt' and had a blast..
dressed in a simple khaki shirt and pants with this cute little hat on his head (i think its called a fedora, without the feather) and this pale yellow guitar, he just moved his fingers and mouth in such a way that i'm sure got the ladies (and gentlemen) in the audience feeling the same way a female rock fan feels, just before she takes off her underwear and flings it on stage.
he's probably around 60 but man that guys got a powerful voice, he could be heard over the electronics even when he whispered, geeez and what clarity! most singers, even if theyre that talented, mumble into the mike. and whatttta performer, crowd pleaser, babeh..
there was this ramp going up sideways the front of the stage and at one point he walked down in and came into the crowd and walked through, happily playing his guitar all along and singing.. then he went back otward the stage and ran up the ramp..
then walter trout came out and they performed together and there was this other guy on the keyboard who was brill-fuckin'-iant and another fellow on the guitar who was amazing..
there was a point when the three of them were just jamming together, walter trout, BG and the keyboardist and i just closed my eyes and let my body sway to the music until the lady behind me, who was this 'larger than average' woman in a horrible black and white lycra tshirt clinging to her 'curves' and shaking her thang, started singing on the top of her voice.. and that killed the mood for me..
at the end of the concert he came and threw a few of his picks into the crowd and i've never seen people jump like that to get them... then out came the famous polka dotted guitar and 'Mustang Sally', baby... which has got to be the sexiest song in the world, whatta hip-thrusting beat!
i loved loved loved loved being there, and to think that i was going to leave early and go dancing at Bohemia which i do almost every weekend, jeeeeez (silly Nat)
inspite of fat singing lady and other idiots who thought they could sing along with the man, and the whole crowd thing, whatta concert...
THIS was real singing, a real performance, a real live kick ass concert...
and worth way waay waaay more than the six hundred bucks it cost.
(oh for all you BG fans, my friend has taken a video of a part of the concert and i shall post the link here as soon as i can)
Sunday 4 February 2007
a new beginning, a new friendship and a bitchy rant
i've been meaning to post for a while now.. but somehow i've never gotten round to doing it..
someone commented the other day that this is more like a diary than a blog.. and now i'm confused.. isnt a blog supposed to be like an online diary/journal?!
do let me know if i'm wrong.. very new to the blogging scene and all..
i SO didnt want to start off the new year/this blog with a whole bunch of new years resolutions/rant about some seriously annoying people but thats what is uppermost on my mind right now so i'm gonna have to..
first the new years resolutions.. yes i know its february and not technically the new year.. and that i've wasted a whole month sitting on my ass not doing anything about my "resolutions" so i'm gonna post them here, so that if any of you catch me sitting around not sticking to these resolutions, you can whup my pretty little butt back into shape...
(1) lose weight: very very very important, i need to fit to be a dancer and i am [i]anything[/i] but fit right now.. so that basically means gym, proper diet and no eating outside food.. at all!!
(2) become more proactive about my career/interests
(3) get my hurt hand fixed properly, its been screwed up for about 4 months now and again for dancing it needs to be completely normal.. also for painting
(4) write to my friends out of town more often
(5) generally write more often, i'm getting sick of people tellin me that i can write but i aint doing anything about it, so i will faithfully try to put up atleast one post in 2 days
(6) i need to take of my skin and all, generally beautify.. i've never been a big one for doing that kinda stuff, but the little effort put into making yourself look nice, (not one of those 'glamdoll' madeup model types) is totally worth the effort.
(7) work on learning how to sketch, ye ai know its sounds odd that a 'painter' cant draw, but i am a painter after all not an artist and that too a self taught painter.. so i must learn how to draw with pencil/chracoal/ink etc..
should finish one sketch/painting/drawing a day
i should stop there, anymore and i wont have a life, not that i have much of one nowadays but yea..
and now we come to the rant: *evil grin*
have you ever met someone who, initially seems nice, but kinda over-enthusiastic.. and once you kinda get to know them, seriously starts to annoy the hell outta you? this is happening to me right now..
say about a couple months ago i met a girl (lets call her X) through some common friends and we hung out a bit, she also dances so we used to go out dancing and stuff, did a bit of shopping and hung around at coffee shops.. 'sipping overpriced espressos' (as my friend B so eloquently puts it)
she seemed nice, we had fun hanging around, it always feels good to get to know someone new..though she seemed a tad bit overexcited about everything in life..
now that i look back, i think the problem started when X was introduced to a couple of my friends and she started hanging with them too..and suddenly she was pushing herself into every aspect of my life, calling me all the time, saying stuff about how much the 2 of us had in common, (which, btw, wasnt much at all) and i started feeling a bit suffocated.. and slowly slowly i started getting veryvery annoyed with her.. the woman (actually she's a child, no matter how mature she claims to be) actually started telling me what my friends were upto! i mean, seriously, the gall of this girl knows no bounds.
i even tried to hint in some very obvious ways that i dont much care for her, but it doesnt have seemed to have worked, can a person be really that thick-skinned? or is it that she's just that desperate to be friends with me?
*snort* (yea riiiight, dont kid yourself, Nat)
the thing is, she's rude, obnoxious, hypocritical, overobsessive, childish, thick-skinned, opinionated and extremely clingy..
EVERYTHING about her has started pissing me off.. and now i cant stand to be around her...
BUT the problem is that for some reason i keep calling her up, and we keep meeting... is it because i'm masochistic, as another friend pointed out (hmph!), or is it just that we have a lot in common, interest-wise and we end up doing fun things together?
*sigh*
oh and i made a new friend... finally found someone with whom i can watch old movies, attend blues concerts and listen to old music.. :D... good feeling!
someone commented the other day that this is more like a diary than a blog.. and now i'm confused.. isnt a blog supposed to be like an online diary/journal?!
do let me know if i'm wrong.. very new to the blogging scene and all..
i SO didnt want to start off the new year/this blog with a whole bunch of new years resolutions/rant about some seriously annoying people but thats what is uppermost on my mind right now so i'm gonna have to..
first the new years resolutions.. yes i know its february and not technically the new year.. and that i've wasted a whole month sitting on my ass not doing anything about my "resolutions" so i'm gonna post them here, so that if any of you catch me sitting around not sticking to these resolutions, you can whup my pretty little butt back into shape...
(1) lose weight: very very very important, i need to fit to be a dancer and i am [i]anything[/i] but fit right now.. so that basically means gym, proper diet and no eating outside food.. at all!!
(2) become more proactive about my career/interests
(3) get my hurt hand fixed properly, its been screwed up for about 4 months now and again for dancing it needs to be completely normal.. also for painting
(4) write to my friends out of town more often
(5) generally write more often, i'm getting sick of people tellin me that i can write but i aint doing anything about it, so i will faithfully try to put up atleast one post in 2 days
(6) i need to take of my skin and all, generally beautify.. i've never been a big one for doing that kinda stuff, but the little effort put into making yourself look nice, (not one of those 'glamdoll' madeup model types) is totally worth the effort.
(7) work on learning how to sketch, ye ai know its sounds odd that a 'painter' cant draw, but i am a painter after all not an artist and that too a self taught painter.. so i must learn how to draw with pencil/chracoal/ink etc..
should finish one sketch/painting/drawing a day
i should stop there, anymore and i wont have a life, not that i have much of one nowadays but yea..
and now we come to the rant: *evil grin*
have you ever met someone who, initially seems nice, but kinda over-enthusiastic.. and once you kinda get to know them, seriously starts to annoy the hell outta you? this is happening to me right now..
say about a couple months ago i met a girl (lets call her X) through some common friends and we hung out a bit, she also dances so we used to go out dancing and stuff, did a bit of shopping and hung around at coffee shops.. 'sipping overpriced espressos' (as my friend B so eloquently puts it)
she seemed nice, we had fun hanging around, it always feels good to get to know someone new..though she seemed a tad bit overexcited about everything in life..
now that i look back, i think the problem started when X was introduced to a couple of my friends and she started hanging with them too..and suddenly she was pushing herself into every aspect of my life, calling me all the time, saying stuff about how much the 2 of us had in common, (which, btw, wasnt much at all) and i started feeling a bit suffocated.. and slowly slowly i started getting veryvery annoyed with her.. the woman (actually she's a child, no matter how mature she claims to be) actually started telling me what my friends were upto! i mean, seriously, the gall of this girl knows no bounds.
i even tried to hint in some very obvious ways that i dont much care for her, but it doesnt have seemed to have worked, can a person be really that thick-skinned? or is it that she's just that desperate to be friends with me?
*snort* (yea riiiight, dont kid yourself, Nat)
the thing is, she's rude, obnoxious, hypocritical, overobsessive, childish, thick-skinned, opinionated and extremely clingy..
EVERYTHING about her has started pissing me off.. and now i cant stand to be around her...
BUT the problem is that for some reason i keep calling her up, and we keep meeting... is it because i'm masochistic, as another friend pointed out (hmph!), or is it just that we have a lot in common, interest-wise and we end up doing fun things together?
*sigh*
oh and i made a new friend... finally found someone with whom i can watch old movies, attend blues concerts and listen to old music.. :D... good feeling!
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