Invasion of the Dhokla Culture

Sometimes I feel pretty smug about not being born a Gujju. No eating Dhoklas and patras everyday. No referring to snacks as 'snakes'. No living in joint families full of aunties who talk to each other in a pitch so high you'd think they were trying to communicate with people of the neighbouring building. No having relatives with names like 'Jeeee-tes" and 'Meee-tes'.

And while, I was riding on this high horse of mine, Destiny intervened to play dirty games with me. My building organised a Dandiya event . To my dismay I was not just forced, but threatened to attend it.

The only thing that kept me going was that I was going to get to wear my extra blingy bright pink churidar kurta, embellished with mirrors and sequins, with a crush dupatta to go with it. And of course wear dramatic Indian make up which I don't get to on a daily basis.

Now lets be honest, dandiya and garba are both beautiful dance forms, but do people living in this city really know them. As far as I have seen, people doing garba just jump in and out of a circle while moving their head simultaneously with the many tiers in their bodies. Dandiya is another monotonous process. Hitting the same sticks again and again in the same damn way. Yet it find so many takers.

Again if the guys at dandiya events are good looking, it is a good enough reason to go. but the place is usually filled with chashma-wearing, mamma's boys type Gujju boys. Or else there are no guys at all. Only shapeless uncles playing a version of Dandiya I wouldn't even call dandiya. Infact, a lot of them look like they're actually playing some sort of sword fight in order to get rid of their pent- up frustration.

Under these circumstances, I was forced to play with the aunties of the building. Mind you a lot of them were also indulging in the whole I-need-to-get-rid of my frustration game. Clearly not the best attitude to play with. I fad put on my best plastic smile and pretended like I was having sooo much fun, while I was secretly wishing I had worn an armour of some sort because I was so terrified someone would knock me right off.

I was trying to be positive by telling myself that this was a brilliant opportunity to exercise and tone my arms which I otherwise never do, among the various Tulsi-bens and Mani-bens, while I silently watched the values and principles I had embraced all my life slowly and steadily flow down the drain. Such is the tragedy of life!