MS had always been a dancer. The music never mattered; it could be rock n' roll, blues, pop, bollywood peppy numbers, she loved them all. She would close her eyes and with a blissful smile begin to move to her own sense of rhythm. Her smile so fresh as if she's just heard the first joke of her life. It was always pretty to see her sway to her own mental notes. She never worried about a partner, MS danced by herself. As if her soul and her body were the two partners, dancing in sync with each other.
We went to a discotheque once. They had flashing lights, booming speakers, crowd comprising of mostly students and loud music. Whatever music was playing, MS moved effortlessly on the floor. Her smooth twists and twirls would have made any good gymnast admire and envy her at the same time. On another occasion she played some number on youtube over the laptop speakers and danced in the room. She commanded the whole floor, moving back and forth like a Gopika in her bhakti trance; until sweat was dripping down the middle of her back. I was lost in the moment and took a while to applaud her when she finished.
Dancing with MS was a challenge. It was a communication class. There were no exams or grades but you were supposed to answer the questions raised in her movements and also expected to pose your own. There were no books, yet many topics were covered, including faith, trust, work, family, aging, love, forgiveness and even death. She taught the meaning of life, the final bridge between life and death being narrated in her moves. She was a research if only one could study her dancing and learn. The last lecture was very brief though. It felt like a funeral procession instead of a graduation ceremony. The dancing stopped.
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