My wife, Nirmala, and I have just returned from a two day-long wedding. We celebrated the marriage of one of my son's best friends, Sandeep Nair, to Smriti Pandya. Sandeep, like a good deal of my son's friends and acquaintances, are Malayalees, that is, from the southern Indian state of Kerala. Smriti is from the state of Gujarat, in northern India. The food was a combination of Kerala and Gujarati cuisine, but the dancing was very much Gujarati. I had a profound experience during one of the dances; I am writing about it so that you, too, might experience life in a new light. I'm not sure I'm up to the task, but it's worth a try.
The dance in question is called the Garba Dance. As is usual in Indian culture, there is no touching among participants. Most Western dancing involves couples; the gender roles (at least on the dance floor!) between the man and the woman are fixed. (Recall the old joke that Ginger Rogers had to be better than Fred Astaire because she had to do what he did backwards while wearing high heels.)
In the Garba Dance, the steps are exactly the same for men, women, as well as for the young and the old. Scores of us danced around the room, repeating the same rhythmic steps, 180 degrees to the right, 180 degrees to the left, followed by a clap before the steps are repeated. It is a long dance; during which the meter is increased several times. I will tell you why it became the dance of life for me in a moment; first let me contrast it to its somber distant cousin, the Dance of Death, the medieval Totentanz.
THE DANCE OF DEATH
The Dance of Death was a popular icon from the Middle Ages until the dawn of the modern era. It was usually presented as a series of tableaux, the theme of which is Death as the great equalizer, coming, eventually, to emperor and peasant alike. The purpose of such memento mori is to remind one of the brevity of life and the importance of eschewing vanity during one's brief period on earth. (One of my favorite tableaux is of a young vain woman gazing admiringly at herself in a mirror. She is so absorbed in herself that she doesn't notice Death sneaking up from behind--according to the angle of Death's position, the reflection of the bony apparition must have begun to be reflected in the mirror. Her narcissism, to put it mildly, is about to be finally challenged.)
Although many being taken by Death in our era are old due to improvements in health and sanitation, the Dance of Death--at least for now--continues unabated. It's as if all humanity is moving in a circle; dancers eventually disappear, being replaced by new ones. Death dances on.
The Dance of Death-paintings strike many moderns as morbid. But if reminders of our demise can help curtail vanity--and there is arguably even more vanity today then there was in the fifteenth century--they should be (occasionally) welcomed. The purpose of this somber dance is to drive one to become more involved with the Dance of Life, a discussion of which now follows.
THE DANCE OF LIFE
The Garba Dance, at least temporarily, danced the egotism out of me. My experience was a subjective one, yet it proved to be an objective one as well.
The Garba Dance lasts a long time. When I first entered the circle of the dance, I didn't know what I was doing. I must have looked like an idiot, doing moves that were not part of the dance. I failed to observe the dance carefully before attempting it. I stopped after a few minutes. I felt bad; Nirmala and I dance a lot and I didn't do well. Then I observed the dance closely. I dragged my rather reluctant wife onto the dance floor; we both started dancing. The steps are not difficult; I was soon doing all the right moves. Someone who practiced a lot before the wedding, informed me later that he admired "how I really got into it."
At first, as I swirled around, I observed the other dancers, noticing who was doing well and who was doing poorly. I remember feeling slightly envious of the good dancers, along with an inner smirk for the ones who were clumsy. As I swirled around faster and faster, however, I began to forget about myself and my opinions entirely. After about fifteen or twenty minutes, I had a sort of an epiphany. All the dancers, separate and yet together, became, well, everything, life itself. . It didn't matter that some danced better than others. Everyone was equally essential. The dance needed every participant to keep the circle of life moving.
Suddenly I understood how insane it is to think that you are better--or worse--than somebody else. It is a major source of both cruelty to others and of self-hate. Important to note is that I didn't think it, I danced it. It was as if the centripetal force of the dance hurled ignorance to the walls.
What many people need to know--especially those of European descent--is that thinking isn't everything. Dancing and singing are just as essential! I would like here to recount one of my favorite anecdotes. A brilliant health worker traveled to Lesotho, in order to improve the conditions of the people of that very poor enclave of South Africa. The Africans mistrusted him at first--they thought he was merely another example of someone telling them that their way of life was wrong while his way of life was better. But this tireless worker was different. After things began to improve, the Africans realized that he was a good man. They wanted to honor him; he was invited to sing and dance with them in an important ceremony. He went into a panic. "I can't sing, I can't dance," he exclaimed. The Africans were astounded. They had only one word for singing and dancing; in their culture, both always went together. They couldn't imagine that a human being could say something so absurd; for them, dancing and singing are essential human activities. Their dance was not the Garba Dance, but I am positive it served the same purpose: to join in an ecstatic dance of life, during which discursive thought recedes to feelings of wonder and unity.
I felt like I entered the Garba Dance as a man feeling somewhat out of place in a group of people, most of whom I didn't know. I began as an outsider, I finished as an insider. I entered the dance as a selfie; I left the dance as a Sufi.
I did some research about the dance, I was delighted to find out that its origin lies in Sufi tradition. That's why the dances are so long; that's why the meter gradually increases. Sometimes you need to get out of breath to find rest; sometimes you need time to leave time behind.
I would imagine that many thought the dance was merely fun; it was, however, more than fun for me. I was pleased to discover that an ancient tradition validated what I felt; the dance was designed to enlighten. And indeed it did.
I'm still dancing!
I would like to close with a little poem, perhaps not a very good one, but what it relates is very good, very good indeed.
The Dance of Life
THE DANCE OF DEATH
The Dance of Death was a popular icon from the Middle Ages until the dawn of the modern era. It was usually presented as a series of tableaux, the theme of which is Death as the great equalizer, coming, eventually, to emperor and peasant alike. The purpose of such memento mori is to remind one of the brevity of life and the importance of eschewing vanity during one's brief period on earth. (One of my favorite tableaux is of a young vain woman gazing admiringly at herself in a mirror. She is so absorbed in herself that she doesn't notice Death sneaking up from behind--according to the angle of Death's position, the reflection of the bony apparition must have begun to be reflected in the mirror. Her narcissism, to put it mildly, is about to be finally challenged.)
Although many being taken by Death in our era are old due to improvements in health and sanitation, the Dance of Death--at least for now--continues unabated. It's as if all humanity is moving in a circle; dancers eventually disappear, being replaced by new ones. Death dances on.
The Dance of Death-paintings strike many moderns as morbid. But if reminders of our demise can help curtail vanity--and there is arguably even more vanity today then there was in the fifteenth century--they should be (occasionally) welcomed. The purpose of this somber dance is to drive one to become more involved with the Dance of Life, a discussion of which now follows.
THE DANCE OF LIFE
The Garba Dance, at least temporarily, danced the egotism out of me. My experience was a subjective one, yet it proved to be an objective one as well.
The Garba Dance lasts a long time. When I first entered the circle of the dance, I didn't know what I was doing. I must have looked like an idiot, doing moves that were not part of the dance. I failed to observe the dance carefully before attempting it. I stopped after a few minutes. I felt bad; Nirmala and I dance a lot and I didn't do well. Then I observed the dance closely. I dragged my rather reluctant wife onto the dance floor; we both started dancing. The steps are not difficult; I was soon doing all the right moves. Someone who practiced a lot before the wedding, informed me later that he admired "how I really got into it."
At first, as I swirled around, I observed the other dancers, noticing who was doing well and who was doing poorly. I remember feeling slightly envious of the good dancers, along with an inner smirk for the ones who were clumsy. As I swirled around faster and faster, however, I began to forget about myself and my opinions entirely. After about fifteen or twenty minutes, I had a sort of an epiphany. All the dancers, separate and yet together, became, well, everything, life itself. . It didn't matter that some danced better than others. Everyone was equally essential. The dance needed every participant to keep the circle of life moving.
Suddenly I understood how insane it is to think that you are better--or worse--than somebody else. It is a major source of both cruelty to others and of self-hate. Important to note is that I didn't think it, I danced it. It was as if the centripetal force of the dance hurled ignorance to the walls.
What many people need to know--especially those of European descent--is that thinking isn't everything. Dancing and singing are just as essential! I would like here to recount one of my favorite anecdotes. A brilliant health worker traveled to Lesotho, in order to improve the conditions of the people of that very poor enclave of South Africa. The Africans mistrusted him at first--they thought he was merely another example of someone telling them that their way of life was wrong while his way of life was better. But this tireless worker was different. After things began to improve, the Africans realized that he was a good man. They wanted to honor him; he was invited to sing and dance with them in an important ceremony. He went into a panic. "I can't sing, I can't dance," he exclaimed. The Africans were astounded. They had only one word for singing and dancing; in their culture, both always went together. They couldn't imagine that a human being could say something so absurd; for them, dancing and singing are essential human activities. Their dance was not the Garba Dance, but I am positive it served the same purpose: to join in an ecstatic dance of life, during which discursive thought recedes to feelings of wonder and unity.
I felt like I entered the Garba Dance as a man feeling somewhat out of place in a group of people, most of whom I didn't know. I began as an outsider, I finished as an insider. I entered the dance as a selfie; I left the dance as a Sufi.
I did some research about the dance, I was delighted to find out that its origin lies in Sufi tradition. That's why the dances are so long; that's why the meter gradually increases. Sometimes you need to get out of breath to find rest; sometimes you need time to leave time behind.
I would imagine that many thought the dance was merely fun; it was, however, more than fun for me. I was pleased to discover that an ancient tradition validated what I felt; the dance was designed to enlighten. And indeed it did.
I'm still dancing!
I would like to close with a little poem, perhaps not a very good one, but what it relates is very good, very good indeed.
The Dance of Life
We're dancing something big,
we're dancing something small;
though some of us are short
while others are quite tall,
we're dancing It together! and
nothing else matters at all.
Hello sir whatever you have written that is half right because it is not death dance it is dance of full enjoyment with the worship of ambaji mata and else you have written right and this blog is right to share and communicate with others.
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