Student struggles to find Bollywood glory

As my high school career hits its twilight days, I’ve decided to finally attempt all the things I had been too timid or complacent for in the past. On this bucket-list are formidable activities like surviving the three-day long hiking trail Skyline-to-the-Sea, reversing gender roles at a school dance and forging a friendship with Jeanine, the mysterious campus supervisor who I’m convinced has a thrilling life story. 

Though not as outlandish, my bucket list also includes learning Bollywood dance, which I’ve come to realize (though perhaps a little too late) affords certain men at our school celebrity of lofty heights. At our school, dancing on Bombay in the Bay is basically the social equivalent of playing football at Los Gatos High School. 

Yet I’ve always been wary of attempting this exotic demonstration of masculinity and physical prowess simply because I have little to no experience with dance. I’ve been to school dances, but they don’t necessarily require much hand-eye coordination, talent or self-respect. 

To help me accomplish my goal, I enlisted the help of senior Sanjna Verma, who serves as one of the choreographers of Bombay in the Bay. She offered to give me a quick and dirty tutorial of this year’s Bombay in the Bay senior dance. 

We agreed to meet each other outside of the Journalism Room on a Friday tutorial for the lesson. I soon realized that suggesting a public location for my lesson was incredibly foolish. With my dancing skill set, I should have suggested a windowless basement. 

She began the lesson with slow run-throughs of dance moves. I internally scoffed at the simplicity of the moves when she demonstrated them to me, but when I attempted them myself, the moves inexplicably became physically impossible. For the 

We shuffled laboriously through a series of moves that ranged from turning and twirling to pointing at the sky. After 20 minutes or so, I ashamedly demanded respite. While panting, I asked her how much of the dance we had covered; my heart sank when she told me it was only 30 seconds. 

After a couple minutes of break, I decided to give up learning new dance moves and pair the moves I had already learned to the dance number’s song, “Banjaara”, from the 2012 Bollywood action film, “Ek Tha Tiger”. Such a step sounds pleasant in theory, but the song reflected the real pacing of the dance, which was sadly much faster than I was prepared for. 

As I clumsily struggled to keep up with the song, I noticed that students passing by would emit understandably malicious giggles and initiate condescending eye contact. One of these unwanted bystanders, senior Christine Xue, later confided to me with barely restrained glee that I looked like Mitt Romney playing invisible volleyball.

      The attention, in turn, flustered me even more and my dancing further degenerated. This was far from what I had envisioned for my big debut. 

After a couple more feeble attempts to dance alongside the music, I decided I had had enough, and Verma happily obliged to end our lesson. I was both physically and mentally wiped out. To add to my distress, the oddly catchy tune of Banjaara cycled through my head for the remainder of the day, reminding me repeatedly of my abject failure.

Verma told me after our lesson concluded that while my hand to leg coordination “seemed to not be there,” my energy and smiles made up for it. Verma, I learned, is not only suited for dance but also politics. 

Nevertheless, I’m still happy that I went outside of my comfort zone and tried something I had previously always admired from the sidelines. Though I learned dancing isn’t my forte, I’m ready to move on to the next thing on my checklist. Jeanine, here I come!