I was being a happy burrito on a Saturday evening when it hit me. It hit me that there is no milk in the fridge. Milk for the Sunday morning tea ritual. I had even exhausted the big pack of milk powder my mom left for days like these. Rather reluctantly, I morphed back into my human form and dragged myself downstairs to walk to the supermarket.
It was then that I heard the rumbling distant sound of Bollywood songs. The society tennis court was crowded, and there seems to be a party I lost my invitation to. Just then I remembered, the poster declaring the Dadinya night, about last month. I didn’t check the dates, taking it to be obviously sometime during the 9 marked days. But lo behold, it was today.
Ignoring the wrong-outfit-alerts blaring in my head, I walked in with much curiosity, feeling every bit of a wedding crasher. And there it was. I had complained incessantly about missing the dandiya night in Banglore.
Back at home, I have very fond memories of attending these better cousins of marriages. People dress up, there is good food and great music but no nosy relatives.
There amongst the wrong beats, almost wrong outfits, and definitely wrong dates, a bunch of happy people, including those lost on their way to buy milk, were dancing their hearts out. Recreating the real human version of Sanjay Leela Bansali’s Nagada Sang Dhol songs.
The presenter for the night announced there will be bumper prizes for the best dancers and the best dressed and we should continue focusing on our goal for the night. Wait, what? Why was I here again.
Managing to fulfil my goal for the day. I even got a free jar with it! Oh the joys of being an adult.
Back to burrito-ing,