Dancing To The Tune

This is in response to Esther’s Weekly Word Prompt.

This week’s prompt is Dance

Dancing To The Tune

Dancing doesn’t come naturally to me. In our culture it is customary for small children to participate in dance dramas during Durga Puja Festival. However, for me it was an ordeal as I was never sure of my steps.

When posted in Kolkata, my Anglo Indian colleague invited me to her house party. For a Bengali party means adda  that is a  robust exchange of views on any subject ranging from the political situation in Peru to the latest scandal in the neighborhood and everything in between. 

As the evening wore on couples got up and started dancing. It was not only unexpected but scary – if someone asked me to dance!

One of our big guns in the office loved dancing. In get togethers organised in his honour he insisted every one should dance with him. I always excused myself from these events.

I love to watch others dance as long as I am not asked to. But who can escape the calamitous  dance of Nature? Back in Kolkata waiting at the bus stop I witnessed the electrifying dance of a purple shaft of  lightning striking the asphalt with an unbelievable speed. I was saved. It could have fallen on me.

When in 1978, a tornado hit the North Delhi University Campus, my elder sister was right there inside a waiting bus. Seeing another one plying first she switched over to it to reach home fast. Both the buses started moving one after the other. Midway she looked back to find the bus she had just left tumble over as wind at the speed of  80-90 Km. per hour hit it.

Our old newspaper seller once told us how he had a narrow escape. Caught in  a torrential downpour he had taken shelter under a shady tree. On an impulse he thought of taking to the road. As soon as he moved out of the shade lightning struck and the tree rose in flames. Ram Ram, as we knew him, got his name from his habit of constantly reciting the name of Lord Rama all the time.

As I recall these instances, I get the feeling more than ever that we are  all dancing to the tune of an invisible player – steps unknown. Only He knows when we are to take a turn or skip a beat or do a pirouette or break into a jig.