The heart may beat within your own body, but it certainly dances to another’s tunes, sometimes explicitly so. In a city where the neighbourhood doesn’t just end at the apartment next door but can spill over to the roadside or the even the pavement outside the housing premises, one man’s party can be another’s celebration. After all, sound waves don’t remain confined within a particular carpet area.
When your socio-economic status limits your entertainment options, it perhaps makes ample economic sense to jive to the tunes emanating from your more affluent neighbour’s party, as these youngsters in the photographs (yes, badly shot, I agree) are doing. It doesn’t matter to them that the music they jive to isn’t theirs, it doesn’t matter to them that they can’t afford their own DJ, they were exhilarated by their own groovy steps, unmindful of the vehicles zipping past on the road as they danced with gay abandon on the foot-path adjoining an apartment complex where obviously some marital event was taking place, judging by the deafening music being played.
The music might have been borrowed, but the happiness was certainly theirs, and it could not be usurped by the Rs 21,000 per square foot rates prevalent in that locality. Come to think of it, these kids appeared far happier than most of us who dragged ourselves daily to and from the house to work and back in search for the bottom of the bottomless pit, in a bid to shore up our retirement benefits while enslaving our present. Not the kids though – not for them the worry about tomorrow and its attendant pressures. here and now was what thrilled them most – tomorrow will be another day, to be tackled when it arose.
Till then, the night was just warming up, and it was time to keep boogeying away to glory, oblivious to all else, even hunger.