When the feet finally found the beat

Over time, my feet continued getting sorer, showing no signs of familiarity with the music.

I have always questioned if I have two left feet. The suspicion often grows to a valid concern whenever I step on a dance floor.

An opportunity to ascertain my belief started with an innocuous call from a cousin to partake in a dance routine for her daughter’s wedding sangeet. While this didn’t get me to fall off the chair I was perched on, it was what followed after. The dance, a medley of Hindi, Gujarati, Kannada and English tunes, was to be performed by a few invited friends and family members. Sixteen to be exact—all legally eligible to be categorised as seniors and geographically located in several time zones and countries. And me, with my two left feet.

While the proposal was accepted by all – reluctantly by some – a question on the modes to actually accomplish this feat loomed large. After much deliberation, our host convinced us that the only feasible way was to have someone record the choreographed dance to practise.

The package, video and audio, perfectly choreographed and compiled, arrived promptly in my inbox – all six minutes of it. I watched the video, again and again. I could not get past the first few steps, my mind befuddled even more with the unfamiliar lyrics and the rhythm. I egged on, with courage and faith following loyally by me, towards my new adventure. Following a few initial tardy starts with sorting technical and user errors, group practice began on video meetings, with my two left feet devotedly joining in every time.

Shortly, I noticed, the number in the dance troupe dwindled. The dance routines are now altered to adjust to the odd number of dancers that fit no more as planned, in two neat rows. Spouses that were planned to join at the end were dismissed to my spouse’s utter joy. Our banter of collective commiseration of anxiety and ineptitude also thankfully became our buttress of amusement.

Days quickly trundled by, my calendar punctuated with practice times. Over time, my two feet continued getting sorer, showing no signs of familiarity with the music routine.

The wedding day finally arrived. Minutes before the performance, the dance troupe practised. In person. For the first time. As the lights dimmed in the audience, my heart thumping in anxiety, my feet stepped onto the dance floor, fully flooded with lights.

As the music started, my feet woke up. Rightfully, as the right foot and the left foot. This time, they looked at each other. They stepped to the right, left, front and back. With the lyrics and the rhythm. Completely in harmony. As I take the bow with the troupe to applause, I smile in silent content and thank my two feet. They smile back at me, promising a repeat performance. Do I look forward to the next sangeet? Perhaps.