RIP : MJ

Most people find exercise to be a big stress buster. That's true for me, too. But I don't believe you'll find many people who love exercising in a long, black full-length tiered skirt. The elastic at the waist has become loose with the passage of time, which actually helps to not hinder my movements when doing free-hand workouts at home. In fact, it even gives me a high when I feel the skirt whirl during the twists and turns that form my regime. I think my feeling of fun and frolic while wearing it during exercise stems from the fact that it's the closest approximation to dance I'll ever be able to make in this lifetime. I'm one of the unfortunate few born with two left feet. My ultimate nightmare is being pushed onto a stage before the scrutiny of a huge number of spectators and being coerced into dancing. I don't think I'd emerge from such a situation alive, so great is my self-consciousness when it comes to making even the minimal dance moves that even the dance-ignorant valiantly try out during the bhashaner naach that accompanies our protima bishorjon on bijoya dashami. I'm totally in awe of those who can dance and happen to watch every reality dance show with a veneration for dancers that rivals the devotee's reverence for the godly ; but at the end of the day, I've reconciled myself to the fact that this talent has somehow been denied to me by the powers-that-be. In short, I just can't dance.





And even as I sit here typing these words, 17,500 people are gathered at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, shrouded in silence, to pay their last respects to the man who moonwalked across their dark skies. To celebrate the life and legacy of he who displayed the triumph that the human body can be disciplined to become in engineering, art and beauty. Who united the black and the white, music and dance, entertainment and ethics. Whose every living step was dogged by controversy, but who survives, in the love and respect of all who knew him , directly or through his performances. Where a $25,000 worth, 14 carat plated regal gold casket contains the focus of the concentrated sorrow of all those who loved him for the difference his very existence made to their lives. Who confessed shyly during an awards speech that it felt good "to be thought of as a person, not a personality". Who makes me feel that maybe, just maybe, I too shall be able to dance some day. If not in reality, then at least in my dreams.

RIP, MJ.