Dirty Dancing

Only a muted alarm bell sounds as I enter the room for my first ballroom dancing class. I8217;ve made sure I8217;m 20 minutes early, givin...

Only a muted alarm bell sounds as I enter the room for my first ballroom dancing class. I8217;ve made sure I8217;m 20 minutes early, giving myself a few moments to prepare for the anxious transition between my lazy street-gait and the Foxtrot. The hall is located on the periphery of a shabby suburban college campus, but it8217;s large and airy. Welcoming me at the entrance is the spiffy, tall instructor Sandip, 27, who8217;s dressed in a dark shirt, tailored brown slacks, and shiny black Pradas.

8220;Where8217;s your partner?8221; asks a smiling Sandip. It8217;s a valid question and I shrug awkwardly. Before coming to the class I asked three female colleagues if they were interested in learning to Ballroom dance. All of them, usually so willing to hang out, thought about it for a moment, smiled nervously and then proceeded to come up with some lame excuse.

8220;Never mind8212;there are plenty of pretty girls here,8221; says Sandip, 8220;but till they come why don8217;t you dance with me?8221; I agree and the Afro-Cuban beats start resounding in the background. My first lesson is in the Cha Cha, that naughty Latin dance. 8220;Please don8217;t count one-two cha cha cha, or I8217;ll be forced to call you Aruna Irani,8221; says Sandip who received his training at the Ballroom Dance Teachers Training School in Bonn. 8220;The correct beat is 2-3 cha cha-1.8221;

I lumber along trying to keep step with Sandip, who8217;s so graceful that I just want to quit and leave. At first we do the Cha Cha standing next to each other, trying to keep symmetry but after a while he gets bored, turns towards me and rests his arm on my shoulder. I respond positively. He8217;s the woman and I8217;m the male, which is perfect, except that he8217;s about 4 inches taller.

Since the Cha Cha doesn8217;t come naturally to me, I usually fall out of sync after eight steps and trample all over Sandip8217;s shoes. He seems annoyed but doesn8217;t say anything. 8220;Look up at my face8212;stop gazing at my feet,8221; he booms, adding, 8220;Do you want the lady to think you8217;re staring at her legs?8221;

8220;Never hold a lady by her waist,8221; he goes on, shifting my hand to his shoulder blade. 8220;If you draw attention to that area, other men will start noticing her and you don8217;t want any trouble8212;the technical reason is it8217;s easier to turn her if she8217;s being held by the shoulder.8221;

The class starts filtering in and I8217;m pleasantly surprised to see a largely youthful group of about 20. 8220;People associate ballroom dancing with being old and stuffy but seven out of the ten dances are done at a frenetic pace,8221; says Sandip, pointing to the mix of college-going students and young married couples. He then introduces me to Meghna, my partner for the evening.

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Her face is familiar and we figure we went to the same college at around the same time. Meghna8217;s wearing a pastel orange blouse, knee length black skirt, thick black heels, and is looking very Latin. 8220;I insist that men wear formal trousers and shoes with leather soles8212;how you look determines how you feel and how you dance,8221; barks Sandip. I8217;m in loose jeans, a faded T-shirt and clunky Doc Maartens.

It8217;s the class8217; second-last session and they8217;ve nearly perfected 50 dance steps. We start with the Foxtrot, and Meghna leads the way. I learn a few moves but goof up regularly. My partner, on the other hand, moves with panache and purpose. I throw my hands up after a few attempts and start talking to her. 8220;Ah, you8217;re chatting with your partner8212;this dance is perfect for that,8221; chimes Sandip, adding, 8220;since the music is soft for the Foxtrot, this is when you ask a girl where she stays and for her number; you can interact but still feel like you8217;re dancing.8221;

We move on to the Samba, a festive dance of celebration from Brazil. 8220;I love the Samba because it8217;s fast and peppy; most of our film songs follow a Samba beat,8221; says Sandip. The temperature in the room is rising and Meghna gathers her shoulder length hair into a tiny bun, revealing a slender neck. I8217;m awful at the Samba and she puts me out of my pain and begins dancing

on her own.

I just watch. 8220;Maybe you8217;ll like the Jive,8221; says Sandip who notices I8217;ve slunk into a

corner. 8220;You can spin the lady from here to

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there and she8217;ll be impressed.8221; I8217;m a little better at jiving and Meghna decides to keep me for the time being.

Just when I8217;m getting comfortable, Sandip announces that we8217;re shifting to the Rhumba, the Cuban dance of love. 8220;It8217;s very sexy, dark and full of lust,8221; he says, 8220;it8217;s bursting with passion.8221; I take to the Rhumba instantly, the slow, deliberate pelvic movements flowing with ease. My partner seems to be enjoying herself too. 8220;The beauty of the Rhumba is that you can express yourself without saying a word,8221; says Sandip. 8220;The chemistry is in the dance and you can convey any message through your movements. All will be understood.8221;

The next time my relationship turns sour, I know where to head for therapy.