One of my goals this year is to learn to dance.

I haven’t done much about it, but I did snatch one opportunity. At VizChitra, Ashok Kumar led an Afternoon Rhythm “where the drum sets a beat and you find your place within it.” He invited volunteers on stage.

I usually volunteer for uncomfortable things (a habit from school days), so I briskly walked to the stage, waited for a few others to join, then started dancing to the beat.

I’ve been told (as a kid) that I was graceful. I haven’t danced in decades. I tried a few tentative moves.

Then my mind voice went, “Screw this. Just f***ing dance. Don’t worry about looking good.”

I closed my eyes. I danced to the beat.

This is the part where I’m supposed to say something poetic about how I felt. But it wasn’t like that.

Some parts looked awkward. Felt awkward.

Some parts flowed. At least to me.

But for a few minutes, I was back at hostel, dancing to Ilayaraja’s beats in my room, all by myself.

One of my goals this year is to learn to dance. Even more so, now.